The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative

by Mark Terence Chapman

  The city of Macapá is situated ninety-six kilometers upriver from the mouth of the majestic Amazon. Once a sleepy little city on the far northeastern coast of Brazil; Macapá had grown into a major metropolis. This was partly due to the population pressures across the country, but mainly because it was the prime jumping-off point for the Nautilus elevator. Originally, the city’s raison d’être was the handling of manganese ore mined inland for export abroad. Then the mines ran dry and the port languished.

  The inception of the giant space elevator reinvigorated the town. Now, as before, the port handled ore, but this time incoming from the elevator, with the added bonus of hundreds of thousands of passengers a year traveling between the airport and the elevator. Encompassing both a seaport and an airport, the modern city of Macapá was an exciting place to visit.

  Right now, however, James didn’t care about any of that. All he was interested in was getting to the seaport ASAP. But first he could anticipate spending a good thirty minutes inching his way through International Customs.

  Naturally, on this particular day even that estimate proved optimistic. The minutes on the wall chrono flew by so quickly that James actually compared the time to that of his wrist chrono to verify that the wall unit was working correctly.

  It took thirty-eight minutes just to reach the customs inspector.

  Come on, already! This is ridiculous!

  Just as in Winnipeg, the inspector appeared to go out of his way to be extra-thorough when it came to examining James’ possessions. It seemed to James that the inspector’s questions were designed to ferret out whether he was in fact an international fresh fruit smuggler. He looked skyward in supplication.

  Finally, the ordeal was over. He looked around for any indication of where to catch a bus or limo to the port. The area was alive with travelers, but no airport officials he could spot.

  Jeez, it’s just one thing after another! How am I supposed to get directions?

  He dropped his bag and slowly rotated, scanning all of the signs: this way to the hotel shuttles, that way to the rental cars.

  Which way to the damn port? This is ridiculous. I have to get going!

  James felt the first flush of alarm tighten his throat. Come on—get a grip! Thousands of people a day come and go between here and the port. It has to be plainly marked!

  He turned in one direction, stopped, then turned again. I must look like a fool. Just pick a direction and get going. You’ll find someone eventually to get directions from.

  After looking around indecisively for a few more seconds, he’d finally had enough. The hell with it! I’m just going to grab a cab and be done with it.

  A glance at his wrist chrono told him he didn’t have time to wait for the slow-moving slideway. Only fifty-one minutes to make it to the port. Damn! He took off once again at a run.

  It took nearly a minute to reach the exit and the curb outside the airport. He hurried over to the nearest taxi stand, ripped open the door and hopped in, tossing his duffel on the seat beside him. That took another minute. Now he was down to forty-nine minutes before the ferry left without him.

  He took a deep breath and announced his destination to the cab’s autopilot. “Port of Macapá. Step on it!”

  He knew the latter command wouldn’t make any difference—the taxi couldn’t go faster than the speed limit no matter how much James implored or demanded—but it made him feel minutely better to try. That feeling faded quickly, however.

  Once beyond the sheltering confines of the airport, the midday traffic gobbled up James’ vehicle as easily and quickly as a shark swallows a minnow. Within seconds he regretted his decision to go it alone. His feelings of frustration and helplessness grew exponentially when he spotted the port shuttle bus flying by in the express lane reserved for that purpose. A quick look at the cab’s chrono told him he had only forty-one minutes left.

  Now panic set in, causing his stomach to churn. Come on, come on. Let’s go! He winced and rubbed his belly. If I don’t get there soon, I’ll get an ulcer.

  Just when it seemed that he was destined to miss the ferry, a gap opened in the traffic. The cab shot through the opening, across two lanes and from there to the exit ramp. James let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding during the maneuver and loosened his death grip on the handle over the car door.

  He glanced at the chrono again. Fourteen minutes left. I might just make it!

  The cab pulled up to the curb. James jumped out and left the vehicle to fend for itself. He hefted his duffel and sprinted for the terminal. Thank goodness I bought all the tickets in advance!

  Once inside, he dropped the duffel at his feet while he scanned the multitude of signs. It seemed there were cargo ships and ferries departing in every direction from the port. James looked for the sign pointing the way to the space elevator ferry.

  Over there! He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Eleven minutes. I’m okay. I made it.

  Then the gods played their final practical joke on him. He reached down, grabbed the handles on his duffel and started to turn toward the appropriate sign, yanking the bag in the process. A ripping sound accompanied a tug on his hand. One of the handles had torn off, causing the bag to flop over on that side. Underwear and small toiletries spilled onto the floor.

  That did it. All the frustration of the morning boiled over. “Crap, crap, CRAP!”

  He glanced up in time to catch the eye of a tall, slender stranger standing nearby with a smirk plastered on his face. The man seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh—at James.

  James, hot, sweaty and on edge, wasn’t in the mood to be made fun of. When he spoke, his voice had a hard edge to it. “What the hell’s your problem?” His eyes flashed dangerously above flared nostrils.

  The stranger held out his palms in a placating manner. “Hey, no offense. You just look as lost as I felt the first time I was here. That whole deer-in-the-headlights thing.” The man spoke the obligatory Universal, but with an accent James couldn’t place.

  James felt heat spread across his neck and face. Despite his embarrassment, he didn’t sense that the other man was mocking him. In fact, the man’s easy grin was open, inviting. And he didn’t look much older than James.

  “Here. Let me give you a hand,” the man offered. He chased after the bottle of aftershave that was still rolling toward the middle of the baggage claim area.

  James began stuffing his things back into the duffel through the rip in the side. He accepted the bottle from the other man. “Thanks. Yeah,” he responded, finally. “I guess I am a bit overwhelmed.”

  “That’s only natural and this place is confusing under the best of circumstances. Look, that bag’s a goner. They sell luggage in some of the shops here. Let’s see if we can find you something that won’t give up the ghost before we reach Nautilus.”

  James looked down at the ruined bag at his feet and sighed. “This was my dad’s duffel, from when he was in the army. I guess it’s time it retired too.” He gathered the bag in his arms and stood. “Lead on. By the way, my name’s Jamie—James—McKie.”

  Jamie’s a kid’s name. I’m an adult now. I need to start acting and thinking like one.

  He tucked the duffel under his left arm and held out his right. The other shook his hand, his own bag at his feet.

  “A pleasure to meet you, James. My name’s Lim Chee, but I go by Daniel Lim when I’m in the West.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Daniel. Thanks again for your help.” He took a deep breath, letting his frustration melt away with his tension. “Now where’s that store? We don’t have much time left.”

  Daniel pointed and the two set off at a trot.

  * * * *

  Four minutes later, with new duffel in hand and only five minutes left in which to make the ferry, James was ready to go. The two men headed for the gate.

  “You seem to know your way around this place. You’ve been here before, I take it.” Stupid! He already said he had. Quit acting like a
n utter fool!

  Daniel nodded as if the implied question were perfectly normal. His almond-shaped brown eyes twinkled beneath straight black hair that was in dire need of trimming. “Last year, on an internship. I almost missed the elevator because I decided to take a cab to the port. Big mistake. The traffic in Macapá is horrible this time of day. I just did make it in time.”

  James grimaced. “Tell me about it. I made same mistake myself.”

  “Live and learn.” Daniel glanced up at the big wall chrono. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to miss the ferry.”

  James nodded his agreement and the two began jogging toward the gate to the Nautilus ferry.

  James had a sudden thought. “Hey, wait a minute. How’d you know I was going to the elevator?”

  Daniel pointed to James’ breast pocket, where a green-and-orange elevator brochure protruded.

  “Oh.” He flushed again. Jeez, can I be any lamer?

  He was saved from further embarrassment as they reached the ramp leading up to the ferry, just in time to hear the air horn sound the final boarding call.

  Daniel pointed to a pair of seats near the front of the cabin and they settled in for the sea leg of their trip. “Whew,” Daniel said, somewhat out of breath. He slumped into one of the seats. “I need to get more exercise!”

  James grinned in empathy, still tired from all the running he’d had to do earlier. He took the seat beside Daniel as he, too, caught his breath.

  “You might as well relax,” Daniel continued. “We’ve got a two-hour trip ahead of us before we reach the elevator.”

  “So what’s your final destination?” James asked as they waited for the remaining passengers to board.

  “ODF Barsoom. I’m presently on a cargo jockey rotation—I move the cargo containers between the elevator and the launch platform. Or I will, once I actually start working there. I just got my Masters from the University of Mexico City; the spatial engineering program.”

  “Good school. UMC had a great men’s fútbol team this year, too.”

  “Sure did. National champs!” Daniel’s chest swelled with pride.

  “So, if you’re an engineer why work as a cargo jockey?”

  “It’s part of the training program. We start out doing a number of rotations the first year to get a feel for how things work in ‘real life’ before we’re allowed to design or build anything that could get someone killed if we screw up. Sort of like doctors. Classroom training provides a great foundation, but it doesn’t quite prepare you for actually living and working in space. That’s why I was here last year. I interned on Nautilus for two semesters to learn the ropes of working on an ODF.”

  “That sounds exciting. What’s it like, living on a space station?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Not all that exciting once you get used to it. It’s about like living in a high-rise apartment, except you can’t go outdoors for a breath of fresh air—not that it’s all that fresh in most cities anyway. Too many people are stuffed into too little space, of course. But at least there tends to be a higher caliber of people up there. Everyone’s educated, and most have college degrees or better. No illiterate slum-bums in space. So how about you? Where are you headed?”

  “Just a bit past you—MMR Site 23, via Barsoom. I just finished my graduate degree in areology—Martian geology—at the U. of M. in Winnipeg. I’ve never been in space before, or even up one of the elevators.

  “The idea of flying to Mars in a ship doesn’t bother me—it’s not all that different from riding the suborb from Winnipeg. But I have to admit I’m a bit nervous about the elevator. The idea of riding a train car thousands of kilometers straight up on something as thin as a sheet of paper is a bit unsettling.”

  “Relax; that ribbon cable’s thin but it’s one of the strongest things ever made by man.”

  “That’s what I hear, but it still seems awfully delicate to hold all that weight.”

  Daniel smiled. “Well, you’re in luck: I minored in space elevator engineering, so I can probably answer most of your questions. Those tethers are made of a nanotube composite. Believe me; you have nothing to worry about. A thickness of a few hundred microns is more than strong enough.”

  James wasn’t ready to let go of his concerns. “That’s good to hear, but surely it’s not invulnerable. What about lightning, or meteors?”

  “I wouldn’t worry. Nautilus has been operating for over a century and not a single cable has failed for any reason—nor have any of the cables on the younger ODFs. I could go on all day about the defensive lasers and shuttle pods the ODFs use to fend off orbital debris and small meteoroids; or how the cables are constantly being monitored and repaired by robotic crawlers that patch up small tears; or how entire cables are routinely replaced every few years. But I won’t bore you with the details. All you really need to know is that elevator travel is much safer than travel by aircraft or groundcar.” He winked. “After all, there’s nothing to crash into en route.”

  James nodded his thanks. “True.” He still wasn’t completely mollified, but he bit his tongue. No sense annoying his companion with a ton of silly questions.

  After several minutes of silence between them, Daniel slouched down in his seat, closed his eyes and soon drifted off.

  The seas were calm and the large trimaran glided over the wave tops with ease, but James had always suffered from motion sickness. The medication he’d taken before boarding the suborbital was wearing off and his stomach was making a point of reminding him.

  Not now! James moved his bag next to Daniel’s and dashed for the men’s room. He barely made it in time. After rinsing his mouth out, followed by a cold splash on his face, he removed the old patch and replaced it with a fresh one. Then he was ready to return to his seat, if a bit unsteadily.

  Once his stomach had settled, James took the time to return to the restroom with his duffle and change out of his damp, smelly, heavy clothing into something more appropriate for the tropics.

  Whew! Much better.

  After a time, the elevator platform appeared to rise from the sea. At first only the immense argent tower was visible, followed minutes later by the sprawling base.

  That’s certainly not what I was expecting. It doesn’t look this bad in the remote aerial shots they always show in the holos.

  The elevator platform wasn’t especially wide—it didn’t need to be. All cargo was shipped in and out—it had to be, due to the forty kilometer no-fly zone surrounding the elevator. Because of this, a manmade harbor capable of servicing dozens of craft at a time, large and small encircled the platform. Food and other consumables were sent up the elevator, not only for the use of the people crewing ODF Nautilus, but also to be forwarded to the lunar bases and Martian ODFs. In return, ore containers received from mining sites around the solar system were sent down the elevator.

  Daniel opened his eyes and saw where James was gazing. “Ugly, isn’t it?” He seemed to be reading James’ mind. “You’d think one of the wonders of the modern world would be more attractive, wouldn’t you?”

  James nodded absently.

  “I guess it’s like harbors everywhere,” Daniel continued. “They’re all dirty and ugly and smell of dead fish and seaweed. But don’t worry; the elevator itself is much more impressive. Oh, look there!” He pointed to an elongated object that seemed to hover for a moment in the air above the elevator tower before shooting up at tremendous speed. Within seconds it had disappeared from sight.

  “Wow, that’s fast!” James didn’t realize he was gawking like a kid at the circus. “You can’t even see the cable from here.”

  Eleven minutes more and the ferry pulled into the designated slip. James and Daniel debarked and made their way into the elevator terminal. It was far smaller than the Macapá airport terminal, but then there were only twenty-four gates to contend with here: one for each elevator ribbon cable.

  “We still have twenty-three minutes until the next elevator departs,” Daniel said, consulting the wa
ll chrono. “That’s enough time for a quick meal, if you’re hungry. Or we can wait and eat on the elevator.”

  James nodded. “Now that we’re back on solid ground, yeah, my appetite’s waking up.” They made their way to the food court and ordered sandwiches and soft drinks.

  While they ate, James tried unsuccessfully to stifle a tremendous yawn. “Sorry. Jet lag. After the suborb, then the taxi ride, and then the ferry, I’m not really looking forward to a long elevator ride.”

  “I know what you mean, but it could be a worse.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, once we get past the atmosphere, there’s no more friction, so the maglev cars can really open it up. Plus, the thing’s an express train—no stops and no slowing down until we get near the other end.”

  James had to swallow a bite of his beef-flavored textured soy burger before he could answer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’m still not looking forward to it. I don’t sleep well on moving vehicles.”

  “I promise it won’t be a problem. Beyond the atmosphere, the ride’s completely silent, with nary a bump to give away the fact that we’re moving. Plus, the beds are nice and soft; it’s not like trying to sleep upright crammed into a coach seat of a suborb. Besides,” Daniel smirked, “the trip’s long enough that eventually you’ll conk out whether you want to or not.”

  “I hope you’re right about falling asleep not being a problem,” James said. “I could use a couple of good night’s rest before I report for duty.” He glanced at the red letters flashing on the wall. “It looks like the final boarding call for our car. We’d better get going.”

  Daniel nodded, and they tossed their trash into the appropriate recycling bins.

  It was a short walk to the elevator car where a smiling AI greeted them at the door. They presented their wrist implants to be scanned for paid passes. James caught a glimpse of the security console flashing green as his and Daniel’s faces and bios appeared.