Fable Hill

by Christopher Uremovich

  For several seconds, Frank knelt in the sand and waited until regaining more strength. The world around him spun in circles. Streaks and tiny specks of light danced and crisscrossed, distorting his vision, the telltale signs of concussion.

  Frank conjured what strength he had and stood upright, albeit very slowly, careful not to fall over from vertigo. As his vision returned to him, Frank could see his crew huddled around Keiko’s lifeless body.

  •••

  Research equipment, white sample bags, and the crew’s personal luggage lay strewn across the Martian landscape. Mia located the medical bag. A minimalist red cross was centered on the bag, still inside the mangled, chain-linked luggage compartment.

  Mia plopped the bag before Keiko’s body and tore through its contents. She had always been confident that Renee would accompany them wherever they went and none of the crew were adequately prepared for such a situation.

  “Oh my God, what do we do?!” Mia screeched to the others, panicking as her hands continued to rummage through the bag.

  Alexei knelt at Mia’s side and grabbed a gray bag of quick-clot powder and a second bag of insulating gel to re-pressurize the suit. He shoved it into Mia’s hands and motioned to pour its contents after he had pulled the beam from her leg. Mia gave a nervous nod that she was tracking on what to do. Alexei grabbed onto the sharp rod of aluminum. Keiko stirred a bit, slowly coming back to consciousness.

  “STOP!” came a terrifyingly loud voice, so loud it crackled on all radio transceivers, even Alexei’s. Everyone turned to see Frank in the near distance, the shrouded wall of dust behind him, unmoving and flickering as heat lightning had begun again inside its tumultuous core.

  Frank moved closer. He pushed Alexei back and ripped the quick-clot and gel packets from Mia’s hand. “If you pull the rod out, she will die,” he said sternly.

  “But . . .” Mia began, but stopped to think.

  “That rod could be the only thing keeping her from bleeding out,” Frank continued.

  With Roland reserved from his shoulder injury and Alexei’s communications malfunctioning, Frank took over the situation. He radioed Amirah and confirmed that a Sakura capsule was on its way, ETA seventeen minutes as it was presently circling the planet.

  Frank communicated with Renee and explained the situation over video feed. She prepared her medical pod for immediate surgery.

  With the situation now under control, Mia wandered off to mark where the Sakura would land with green smoke. To her surprise, the area was filled with interesting, black, metallic-looking rocks. She threw the smoke canister, and with a pop and some sparks, green smoke billowed from its chamber.

  “Where are we?” Mia asked out of curiosity. She grabbed a few rocks and put them close to her visor.

  “Not far from where we started,” Roland answered her. “Why?”

  “There’s black rock over here that isn’t basalt. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” she replied.

  Mia scanned her surroundings. They were on uneven terrain, the steep walls of a mountain range nearby. Mia was unsure if they were in the mountains or if they were at the base of another graben. It was hard to tell from the ground.

  Mounds of lustrous, submetallic rocks littered the area. They came in a variety of dark colors, jet black and a plethora of grays. Mia picked the best ones she could find and filled her satchel.

  The Sakura capsule came into view. It hailed the astronauts on the ground in Japanese. Normally, Keiko would translate for them, but without the benefit of translation the crew assumed they needed to keep their distance from the landing site.

  Just before touchdown, the Sakura’s four rear thrusters ignited in a furious blaze of chemical reaction. To the surprise of the crew, the ground below the Sakura caught fire and spread. It was unlike normal fire and burned a brilliant blue, even in near vacuum.

  The door of the Sakura capsule opened wide. Alexei and Frank hauled Keiko inside on a plastic stretcher. Roland went inside next and scolded Mia to hurry. She was preoccupied, hunched over the blue flames, snapping pictures and recording video.

  Roland ran from inside the Sakura and forcibly removed Mia from her research. Frank took over the controls and closed the main hatch. He gave a thumbs-up once normal pressure and breathable air stabilized. Wasting no time, the crew removed their helmets and carefully strapped Keiko into her seat. Keiko opened her eyes and mumbled something indiscernible. Everyone was just relieved that Keiko was responsive at all.

  “Prop up her leg and tie it so it’s rigid,” Frank ordered. His lip had a giant gash and dried blood covered his face.

  “We won’t have enough fuel to land again. I’ll have to use the parachute,” Frank said aloud.

  The Sakura capsule started its launch sequence. Bright light appeared from deep within all four thrusters as burning propellant engulfed the ground like a blast furnace. Again it ignited the field of mystery rocks. The capsule achieved lift and reached supersonic speed, traversing the Martian sky.

  “Reaching a sub-orbital altitude of ninety-eight kilometers, speed is two thousand kilometers, initiate main engine shut off. Primary fuel levels are depleted, initiate secondary hydrazine thrusters, levels at nine-zero percent,” Frank said.

  Weightlessness took over as the crew unbuckled their restraints and gazed at the view of Mars from the viewports. Alexei administered morphine to Keiko and checked her leg for bleeding. She had come round and engaged in small bits of conversation. Mia accessed a geology app on her tablet and submitted her research for empirical analysis.

  The application ran through thousands of lines of code and displayed a loading screen. In the mean time, Mia’s gaze settled on Frank, who remained at the flight controls, meticulously hard at work. He looked rugged and fearless, his face dirty and bloodied. Mia couldn’t help but feel a burning sense of affection towards his strong character. She felt a strange tingle run down the back of her neck. Frank’s voice triggered an auditory synesthesia as Mia felt her head buzz with euphoria.

  “No way, that’s impossible!” Mia shrieked as the application finished its analysis of the data.

  “So . . . what is it?” Alexei asked with interest, scouring Keiko’s wound with an astringent.

  “Anthracite,” Mia muttered. “Ultra high-grade anthracite.”

  “Coal?” Roland asked.

  Mia caught a glimpse of Frank’s face from the side. He manned his post, keeping a stiff eye on the flight controls. A satisfying smirk from ear to ear appeared on his weathered face.

  “Yes,” Mia replied.

  Chapter 26

  0937 hours, Sol 304

  Ōme Station

  Earth Date: March 4, 2046

  Winter had come at last, with little fanfare from the crew. It had been a rough past ninety sols as they finished preparing Ōme Station for winterization. Nagoya engineers knew full well the technical implications settling north of the 45th parallel would have. They deduced the easier access to water reserves would trump the more Earth-like temperatures of the equator.

  To make matters particularly dire, communique with Nagoya Mission Control had ceased several weeks prior. Alexei attributed the blackout to faulty station keeping of an areosynchronous telecommunications satellite, moving away from visible range.

  Luckily, the Ogaki V mission had landed successfully on sol 299, bringing with it over seven thousand kilograms of supplies. Even with the advancements made in technology, Mars would remain a vassal of Earth, dependent on imports for generations to come.

  With the start of the winter season came some interesting changes to Lyot Crater. Water and carbon dioxide ice had accumulated around the station in the form of frost. It covered the entire crater in a blanket of white, several millimeters deep. With the southern latitudes experiencing summer, the planet’s tilt created low luminal conditions in the north. The sols in Lyot Crater resembled the morning hours of the past summer, with the sun never rising above a certain point in the sky.

  As
less light reached the northern half of the planet, temperatures began plummeting lower and lower. On sol 303, Ōme Station recorded its lowest ground temperature ever at a sultry -76°C during the Martian afternoon and -102°C during the dark, inhospitable night.

  The low temperatures had done little to halt Alexei’s mysterious research. Throughout the year he had become increasingly isolated and elusive. As more and more strange events happened around the station, other astronauts started to bicker and complain. They grew frustrated with Roland and his lack of restraint, his lack of disclosure when it came to the Russian scientist.

  Inside Ōme's cavernous atrium, Keiko used her crutches to limp across the main floor. She had gotten proficient walking with crutches after months of practice.

  The atrium had become overgrown with flora. Crops, flowers, and other plants now dominated the halls of the once-empty dome. A lack of floor space prompted Keiko to get creative, her garden doing so well she devised an overhead suspended growth system.

  Keiko crutched past her tomatoes. They were large, bulbous, and ready for harvesting. Their cherry red color contrasted nicely with the bright green leaves of the tomato plant. Keiko took her seat amongst the lush greenery and propped up her last remaining intact leg. She pushed on her temples in a wave-like motion—a possible migraine headache, the third one this week.

  “How's the leg doing, sweetheart?” asked the familiar voice of Alexei from across the way.

  Keiko let out a forced smile but did not make eye contact and remained seated. “It's doing fine. Can you call Renee for me?” she asked, her face displaying obvious pain.

  Renee gently laid her medical bag at Keiko's feet and began an examination of her left leg stump. It had been nine Mars months since that fateful day, but for Keiko it felt like an eternity. Renee had been forced to amputate her shredded leg as a deadly infection took hold. If not for the medical officer’s quick thinking, Keiko would have died. After months of physical therapy, several rounds of antibiotics, and a steady stream of painkillers, here she was—breathing and alive.

  “It's not my leg, Renee, it's my damn head! These cursed migraines!” Keiko lashed out.

  Renee reached into her pocket and grabbed a prescription bottle of tramadol. She was wary not to issue too much as she suspected Keiko was developing a dependency.

  “No tramadol. It doesn't work, Renee! I need oxys, please . . .” Keiko begged her.

  “There is no more oxycodone, Keiko,” Renee replied timidly. Of course she was fibbing. A fresh shipment of narcotics and medicines had arrived with the Ogaki mission, but Keiko didn't need to know that.

  The two continued to argue over Keiko's care with Alexei looking on. Their voices echoed across the habitat.

  Inside the control room, Roland and Frank, with the help of Amirah, tried their best to troubleshoot at the communications station. The Martian internet had ceased updating its cache since the blackout.

  “Done,” Frank said, getting up from under one of the desks and wiping the sweat from his brow, his dark beard full and unkempt. “All systems have either been replaced or reinstalled.”

  Roland nodded with approval. “Alright, let’s fire it up,” he said, switching over the breaker. The room lit up with white-blue light as a dozen computer screens rebooted at once.

  “Captain, the Shintaro has entered into a 25,000 kilometer areosynchronous orbit,” Amirah notified.

  “Thank you, Amirah. Frank, let’s start by running a system diagnostic and then—”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Amirah interrupted.

  “What is it, Amirah?”

  “The Shintaro AI is requesting to dock with the Yamada for routine diagnostics.”

  “Granted,” Roland said. An idea crossed his mind. “Wait . . . Amirah?”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Have the Shintaro attempt to contact mission control, see if they are receiving transmissions,” he ordered.

  As Frank began running his system scan, Amirah brought back the disappointing news from the Shintaro. They had not received any incoming transmissions from mission control in some time and were unable to transmit back to Earth.

  “If that’s the case, then it's not us that’s the problem. It's gotta be the satellite relay at the

  Lagrange points . . . an optic out of place or a broken mirror . . . something,” Roland proposed.

  Frank chuckled. “Or all of them. Our telecommunications satellites and the relay are two separate entities, and we have lost both.”

  The sounds of metal clinking and clanking together rang out from the station’s fitness room. Mia was enthralled by her workout routine, music blaring from her headphones as she benched four hundred pounds with ease. Lack of gravity was a dream come true for egotistic weightlifters and Mia wasted no time putting the new gym equipment to use.

  Dressed in tight-fitting thermal wear, Mia could see her breath with every exhalation. Her body heat radiated steam. Cold outdoor temperatures had put a strain on the central heating system of Ōme Station. Only rooms that had priority were heated to a certain livable temperature. The fitness center was well below freezing.

  Finished with her workout, Mia peered outside the fitness room window at the desolate winter landscape. She attempted to drink from her water bottle but it had frozen solid during her hour-long workout.

  “Isn't that peachy?” she said as she exited the room, leaving in her wake a trail of water vapor.

  Inside the atrium were two massive potable and non-potable water holding tanks. Roland had them 3D printed during the autumn season to help track and conserve water. The main water pump and pipes would frequently freeze solid, prompting repair missions to inject the pipes with anti-freeze. This method was temporary as the anti-freeze chemicals would themselves freeze after prolonged exposure to cryogenic temperatures.

  Mia filled her glass full of potable water and gulped the cold, crisp liquid vigorously. A sharp pain caught the center of her forehead just behind the eyes and she hollered loudly.

  “Ahh! Brain freeze!” Mia pounded her forehead with a balled up fist, praying that the pain would subside. “Charlie horse for the brain,” she said to herself as the pain vanished just as quickly as it started.

  She continued her usual post-workout regimen through the atrium, sipping instead of gulping her water. Mia enjoyed the solitude and tranquility of the green room. It was vexing to her how peaceful and relaxed it made her feel.

  Mia walked past bushels of vegetables, lush and overgrown, harvested just days prior. Vinyl stalks of planted zucchini acted as a forest. Carrots dangled in rows of orange, their roots exposed from hanging rafters. Aisles of dark purple radishes, sweet corn, green beans, and beets took up most of the square footage. Taking up a ground level stack of plastic grow beds were giant butternut squash and leafy lettuce heads.

  Nagoya's plan for the atrium had always been to test future aeroponic systems on Mars. Different structural setups were tested at Ōme Station, with the end result to find out what works and what doesn't. Each plant was carefully chosen by scientists, all with one thing in common: their ability to grow in poor soil, an important feature that may prove useful in future colonization of the planet.

  Mia continued on until she reached her special spot, a chair hidden amongst sweet clover and leopard’s bane, with an unadulterated view of the outside. The heavy scent of decaying plant matter was thick in the air. Someone had carelessly left the door to the composter open and ammonia fumes wafted out. Mia shut the metal door with a loud bang, prompting a small, golden, speckled quail to fly furiously out of the adjacent algae pond.

  “Whaa!” Mia jumped backwards, startled.

  Frank emerged from behind a wall of vined fruit, laughing hysterically at Mia’s misfortune. “You frightened it!” he exclaimed.

  “I thought these things were still caged!” Mia said, regaining her composure.

  “Renee released them all this morning, thought it would add aesthetic,” Frank said.

&nb
sp; “Well, I don’t know what the point was incubating twelve quail eggs anyways. We’re here to discover viable resources, not be animal caretakers,” she said.

  “Occupation: Martian animal caretaker. I like the sound of that,” Frank joked. “You in a bad mood?”

  Mia let out a sigh of relief and gave Frank a much needed smile of affection. “I’m not anymore,” she huffed.

  “The compost heap was left open,” she stated, changing the subject.

  Frank walked over to the bin’s crude, digital control panel. “Yeah, I know. Roland wanted to add more nitrogen to our station’s atmosphere,” he said.

  The control pad displayed percentages of each naturally-produced chemical within the composter. Frank had helped build it out of spare scrap left over from Ōme’s construction. The keypad read:

  Green Waste Levels

  Water (H2O)

  66%

  Carbon Dioxide (CO2)

  17.5%

  Ammonium (NH4)

  9.3%

  Nitrates (NH3)

  4.2%

  Oxygen (O2)

  2.5%

  Humic Acid

  0.5%

  Frank switched the control pad into a low power state. “With enough biodegradable waste we can start producing cellulosic ethanol,” he said with an upbeat attitude.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Mia replied, staring outside across the bleak terrain.

  Later that sol, as darkness descended on Ōme Station, the crew scrambled to prepare for the coldest night yet. Areas of the habitat that were not necessary were cordoned off and sealed. Each living quarter were given a single space heater as the atrium was allocated priority one for heat.

  Frank moved silently through the dark main corridor, being careful not to trip over his titanium legs. Gahh . . . it's impossible to be quiet with these, he thought to himself, wincing at every subtle clank of metal.

  Once inside his living quarters, Frank spent some time setting up a devious contraption. He used a handheld vacuum and stuffed the motor inlets with fabric—this would muffle the noise some. Frank curled up in his fortress of fleece blankets and turned on a small LED reading light.