The Attempt (The Martian Manifesto Book 1)

by Bob Lee

  Sergeant Wong Sheng was most annoyed. First, he has spent an hour with the five men and five women having them lie prone and shooting at stationary targets. Half of that time had been spent just getting them to assume a good position. Apparently, it was difficult for them to sight though their spacesuit helmets, and not a single one had hit the targets. It looked like they would have to modify the aiming mechanism of the rifles to enlarge them.

  He also had to answer many silly questions. One had asked, “How can a gun fire when there is no air?” He told them that the saltpeter in the ammunition contained oxygen and there was no need for air. A nervous worrier had asked, “I hear that if you miss a target, since there is no air to slow it down, the bullet will go right around the Moon and hit you in the back.” He had to explain that the bullet was not fast enough to go into orbit, but to never shoot straight up since it would come straight down and not be slowed by air friction, thus punching right through their helmets at the same speed as when it left the gun. The Koreans had all looked at each other with concern at that one.

  After that horrible start, NCO Wong had set up a small obstacle course to train them in the basic leapfrogging maneuver that all infantry learn for closing in on an objective. He placed five boulders like the five pips on a domino. There was one boulder in the middle of the field, two boulders nearby, and two boulders past the middle one. Further out from the boulders were two metal pipes set up like a cross, with a big target attached in the middle. He split the group into two teams. Team A would start behind the leftmost nearest boulder and provide covering fire while Team B ran from the nearby right boulder to the large rock in the center. At least they had managed to reach the boulder without falling or getting shot in the back by the other group, and had managed to lie down and start shooting at the target while Team A ran to join them.

  The problem occurred when Team A commenced firing again at the remote target, while Team B got up and started running for the far right boulder. Sgt. Wong had planned a little surprise. He had pressed a button and a pop-up of a tiger jumped up from behind the boulder that they were headed for.

  All five of the Koreans on Team B had reflexively fired, the recoil of the rifles sending them tumbling in all directions.

  “Always lie down immediately, find a rock to hide behind, clear your line of fire so that you don’t shoot each other, and only then start firing!” he yelled as the spacesuited Koreans made their way back to the starting boulders. “Now, again! This time, Team B you cover, and Team A you start for the center boulder. When you reach the last boulder, since none of you seem able to hit what you are shooting at, I want you to throw the grenades. Do NOT pull the pins. Just throw them. Perhaps you will be better off throwing rocks at your enemies!”

  # # #

  Sergeant Wong had kept the Koreans practicing until they could perform the leapfrogging maneuver without incident, and had then sent them back to the base. “I cannot understand why not a single one of them could hit the target,” he mumbled to himself. “At least they could throw with fair accuracy. And we had a big problem with the Moon dust clogging up the weapons as they lay down cover fire. Half of the guns were dead by the time the training was over. I will need to solve that also.”

  After the Koreans had left, the NCO had placed small targets at four hundred meters and at eight hundred meters so that he could practice with his own sniper rifle while in a spacesuit. He had done this on Earth to familiarize himself with the process, and as a result his suit had a programmable interface that would display on his faceplate. The sophisticated ballistics software that he used was standard issue for new sniper recruits, and calculated the distance that a bullet would drop on Earth for multiple distances under varying atmospheric conditions. These shooting distances were much longer than the standard target practice conditions, but were required for a sniper to be able to take out a target from long range. The bullet’s velocity and subsequent drop changed very dramatically on Earth from variations in the air resistance due to atmospheric pressure and moisture content, and the software provided exact guidance.

  Sgt. Wong had never relied on this type of software, using his own shorthand chart that he had built from his vast experience. However, since he had no practice under the conditions of the Moon and Mars, he would have to rely upon the software’s guidance. He pressed the controls on the stock of his rifle to select for the Moon and 400 meters, and opened the bipod legs of his rifle. He settled the gun onto the Moon’s surface, turned up the oxygen content of his suit so that he would have maximum performance, and laid down and looked through the scope. The side of his faceplate instantly displayed that his bullet would drop approximately two centimeters or three quarters of an inch at this distance, which was much less than it would have been on Earth.

  The NCO took a breath and then slowly let it out, watching the reticle of his scope rise slightly to two centimeters above the target center. As his exhale stopped on its own, he waited a second to still all movement, and then squeezed the trigger. A small flash exited the muzzle, and a half second later a hole appeared in the target. Sgt. Wong was not surprised at the gun’s muted flash, as he had noticed that the blaze from the muzzles of the Koreans’ rifles was not as large as it would be on Earth. There was still a flash from the explosive ignition of the bullet propellant, but without air on the Moon there was no further ignition of the spent gas exiting the front of the rifle. But he was shocked that he had missed the center of the target by over three inches! “Perhaps this sophisticated software is not as good as I thought,” he mused.

  After he had placed another five shots, he noticed that the spread of his impacts was quite large, and very few had hit the center of the target. The officer decided to attempt the 800 meter target. He thumbed in the distance on his rifle stock, which sent the request wirelessly to his suit’s ballistic software, and after a moment of calculation his faceplate displayed that his bullet would drop about three inches at that distance. Sgt. Wong went through his routine again, and placed six shots at the tiny distant target.

  He was shocked. This had never happened to him before; some of the shots had missed the target completely! All rifles have a natural spread due to imperfections, called the MOA or Minute of Angle, but his sniper rifle was machined to perfection. It should not exhibit such a large spread. He walked over to examine the nearest target.

  After he reached the 400 meter target, the NCO looked at it closely. It was obvious that the bullets had tumbled, as they had left large ragged holes. “Hmm, it looks like, with no air resistance, the aerodynamic shape of the bullet isn’t helping,” he thought. “Although the spin of the bullets imparted by the spiraling of the gun barrel should help keep it pointed straight ahead, air flowing around the pointed tip must also keep the bullet stabilized. No wonder the Koreans couldn’t hit anything.”

  After a few moments of wondering what to do, the Chinese soldier came to a decision. “Armies of old knew how to handle imprecise munitions. You line everybody up shoulder to shoulder and volley fire en masse. You don’t have to worry about precision. The wave of bullets is bound to hit something. I believe I will need to modify the Koreans’ training. And there is much dust here, which I assume will also be a problem on Mars. Standing still should alleviate that.” After a bit more thought, Sgt. Wong Sheng started to formulate a new training session for his small army.

  CHAPTER 25

  Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding.

  The soft bell was the daily mid-afternoon meditation notification for the Called. Brother Jacobs had kept this tradition from their earthbound days, and they now used the intercom bell aboard the asteroid cycler to summon everyone to the central module. As Bonnie and her girls took their places sitting on the floor at the back of the group, she could see Brother Jacobs standing at the front.

  “As most of you are probably already aware,” he started, “we had a wondrous event just take place. Our own Lotus has produced a baby goat.”

  Bonnie’s husband Jeff
appeared from the pen in the corner of the module, carrying the small kid who was struggling in his arms. He handed it to Brother Jacobs, who held the small wiggling male billy goat in the air. “Behold, a miracle. It is our first birth in space, and marks the halfway point in our journey. A new life will bring us closer to the day we meet our destiny. And, in honor of the Great Consciousness, as they did in days of yore, where they called their brethren to bring hither the fatted calf, and eat and be merry, so shall we!”

  Little Julie grabbed Bonnie’s arm. “No,” she shrieked. “Not Buttercup! Do something, Mommy!”

  Bonnie jumped up. “Please, Brother Jacobs. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until we are closer to our destination? Wouldn’t that increase the odds of being heard by the Great Consciousness?”

  Celia, who was sitting near the front, turned around and hissed, “Quiet, Bonnie; know your place. Do not contradict Brother Jacobs. It’s about time we had something to celebrate.”

  “Wait, my sister,” said Brother Jacobs to Celia. “We actually have another miracle to announce. Come up here, Sister Bonnie,” he said waving her to come to the front of the group and handing the kid back to Jeff.

  Bonnie hesitantly walked forward. She knew what was coming, and dreaded it. She had told Brother Jacobs yesterday about her pregnancy, and he had seemed pleased at the time. She wasn’t quite sure what he would say though.

  “My children,” Brother Jacobs said. “I recently learned that we are about to increase our flock. Sister Bonnie is with child, and we shall have the first birth on Mars. This truly is cause for celebration!” He hugged the pregnant woman, and turned her around and lifted her shirt for all to see. “Behold, for unto us a child will be born, and we shall call him Wonderful, and he shall bring forth the Great Consciousness! We will arrive and merge,” he finished, chanting their new slogan.

  “We will arrive and merge!” the Called shouted. They all clapped and gave Bonnie well wishes. Bonnie could see Celia at the front of the group with her arms crossed and frowning. It was obvious that she was upset that someone else was receiving such attention. As the crowd settled down, Bonnie turned back to Brother Jacobs.

  “Yes, Brother Jacobs. A celebration with dancing and good food is called for. But please, not the baby goat. It takes five months for a goat to come to term, and we should wait to have more goats before we consume any of them. At least let us wait until we arrive at Mars, please.”

  Brother Jacobs thought for a moment. Then he said in a grave voice. “Perhaps I spoke in haste. In a land of old, they slaughtered all of the firstborns, yea even unto those of the beasts, and accomplished naught.” He took back the billy goat from Jeff and held it aloft. “No, this firstborn shall not be slaughtered. That privilege will go to the next, as we sacrifice it for the Great Consciousness. Tonight we revel within our hearts and give thanks to Sister Bonnie for leading the way.”

  As Bonnie walked back to her spot at the back of the Called, many that she passed smiled at her and patted her arm. She sat down and Julie hugged her with tears in her eyes saying, “Thank you, Mommy!”

  Old Sue, who was sitting in front of Bonnie, turned around. “See, Honey? Lotus had no problem successfully birthing. You should stop worrying. You’ll be fine too.” Bonnie ignored her, deep in thought. All of this talk about slaughter and ‘firstborns’ had sounded too ominous for her to ignore.

  # # #

  While the Called were finishing their daily session, Commander Olstein and Pilot Tuttle were having their own meeting in the Commander’s cabin.

  “Wow, I still can’t believe what I saw in that encrypted video we received from Mission Control,” Sam said. “Did you see the way Sergey’s suit exploded when that snake thing bit him? And you told me not to worry about these aptly named Hindenburg suits!”

  “That had to be a fluke,” Roy stated. “And anyway, now that we know, we’re not going to let those things get anywhere near us. You saw the orders. We have to make some launch tubes for bazookas and mortars. The guys at the Star-Kissed base will be making the rockets. Actually, the recommendation is pretty smart, as launch tubes are pretty simple for us to make and we have plenty of ore here on the asteroid. My uncle used to have a potato gun when we were kids, that we launched by igniting hairspray. We just need a plain tube and a firing mechanism. The tube doesn’t even have to be reinforced. The question is, how are we going to hide these big tubes from the others while we ‘re making them?”

  “I still don’t like hiding all this from them,” Sam said.

  “You’ve seen the way they act, especially that Brother Jacobs. With all that talk about the Great Consciousness, who knows what he would do if he knew that we had actually discovered some sort of alien life there. Remember how they locked us in our rooms over that recycling dispute? I don’t relish being hog tied on Mars while they go about who knows what business. No, we need to keep this secret.”

  “Well, okay, I can buy that. Since these are just tubes, what can we say that we are building with them that won’t arouse suspicion?”

  “I can only think of scaffolding, but I can’t think of anything we need to do inside or outside the habitat that would require them,” Roy said. “Have you gotten any requests from any of the group’s members for something that might fit?”

  “Hmm, they’re always complaining about not having enough activities to keep the children occupied,” Sam said as she tapped her fingers and looked up in the air thinking. “Wait, I know. My dad showed me something once when I was a kid that he called a Rube Goldberg machine. It had wheels and tubes that balls would roll down. The balls could go different routes, and when they reached the bottom, a small motor moved them back up to the top to start all over again. We could easily have a few tubes for the balls to roll through. And the slot for the handle and trigger mechanism could be where the balls can fall into the tubes.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea. How about you make it a contest? Have the children draw some ideas, and you help them by incorporating the tubes. Then we can make them without anyone knowing their real purpose. When it’s time to leave for Mars, we’ll pack it up in the resupply ship for the Star-Kissed base instead of the one going to the colonists’ home.”

  “Great. I’ll float it by Jean, since I could use a respite from her incessant questions. I’ll ask if I could come present the idea at their next meeting. Knowing her, she’ll have five plans completed by tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 26

  The few short days after the astronauts on Mars had received their instructions from Earth, each of them was struggling with his own issues. Sergey was at his work bench downstairs, building some bizarre mechanism. Brad was also downstairs, and still trying to rock the rover to free it from the pit that it had fallen into. And Charles was upstairs and arguing with Grant once more, pressing the case for trying to capture any future creature they might find instead of destroying it.

  “Look,” Charles said. “The AB Cycler has webbing over one whole side. How about we have the group on its way here cut some pieces of it? We can use it as a net to capture anything we find. I’m sure there’s room in the supply rocket.”

  “I told you that Mission Control does not want us communicating directly with them,” Grant stated emphatically. “Their situation is delicate. Apparently they are worried about what might happen if the colonists discover what is going on.”

  “I’m tired of this secrecy,” Charles reiterated. “The world should know. They should know that we’re trying to destroy exactly what we came looking for.”

  “You heard the transmission; the orders are directly from the President.”

  “He’s not here, and we are. Since we’re stuck on Mars for the duration, I think it’s time we started thinking for ourselves. We should think as Martians instead of as Earthmen,” the biologist insisted.

  “You were outvoted, Chuck, so it’s time to let it go. You have my word that violence is going to be our last resort,” he assured him. “Tell you what; I’ll go to
bat for you one more time. If you can create some carefully worded message for the astronauts on the cycler that won’t tip off the others, I’ll try to get it approved.”

  “All right, Grant. I’ll give it a shot,” Charles said with a sigh.

  “Good. You go work on that, while I go check on Serge’s progress. He came to me all excited this morning and said I had to see what he was working on.”

  Charles went to his room as Grant turned and descended the ladder. As the biologist entered his room, wondering what excuse he could give for wanting netting, he noticed that his computer had received a personal video message. He sat down in his chair, and pressed the screen to initiate the message.

  “I should have known,” the image of his fiancée Terri said, visibly angry. “I received your message, Mister Biologist Winston, and I was not pleased at all. How could you say that you’re not coming back for an additional three years? Don’t you realize what that does to my plans? Are you crazy suggesting that we have a video wedding!? It would be bad enough if it was live, but with the delay you would have to record everything ahead of time. I am emphatically NOT going to go through all this trouble for a stupid recorded image on a screen!” He saw Terri get up and wag her finger at him. “My mother was right! ‘Never marry an astronaut,’ she said. ‘They’re never around when you need them.’ How right she was. You only care about your stupid adventure. I’m through with you. The engagement is off. Goodbye!” The screen went blank.

  Charles went back to his bunk and lay down, totally depressed. Nothing seemed to be going right for him. He had no interest right now in composing a message to Mission Control about ideas for working with the AB Cycler astronauts. “Maybe tomorrow,” he sighed, closing his eyes.