by Read, John
“How’s it going, Jimmy?” I yelled above the hum of the machinery. Jimmy set down the tablet and worked a wrench on a milling machine dedicated to carving out the grid modules that could not be printed.
“Working on the holiday, too, eh? It’s Landing Day you know.”
Landing Day had been established to celebrate the anniversary of the arrival of the first colonists. Now a planetary holiday, it was celebrated on the Martian year, so it only happened every 668 sols.
Jimmy shook his head. “The unions would never allow this. Working on a holiday? No way, José. Stuff got done when it was done.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. Knowing what I did about H3, talking about a union sounded like a good way to get kicked off the planet.
“I’m going to take the Pelican. Gotta finish some survey work on the relays for the new residential sector. I want to make sure we’re in tip-top shape when we turn on the power.” It had been weeks since my last flight, and I really just wanted to get back in the air.
“She’s all yours,” Jimmy said, flipping his thumb to the hallway leading to the hangar.
I sprinted up the stairs to the pressurized chamber on the hangar deck. Pressure suits hung along one wall, and on the other, a jetway ran alongside the Martian aircraft.
I donned a pressure suit and strode down the jetway. I inspected the yellow Pelican from a picture window. A diagnostic projection on the glass indicated that the Pelican’s two lightweight electric turbofan engines were in optimal working condition. A minor defect was detected on the carbon fiber wing, and added to the repair log. But there was nothing that would prevent today’s flight.
I strapped in and hit the master-on. Increasing the throttle to full, I released the brake, launching the Pelican along the magnetic track and rocketing from the hangar like a bullet from a gun.
A 270-degree transparent display in the cockpit provided an x-ray view of the colony. It displayed important information like the energy output from each solar array. Most importantly, it monitored the electrolyzers and hydrogen fuel cells, the systems that kept the colony powered when the sun wasn’t shining.
We didn’t use much nuclear power on Mars. The main reason is that solar is cheaper per kilowatt, but besides that, United Nations Space Law frowned on launching nuclear reactors into space. In 2035, the European nations had successfully negotiated a bill banning reactor launches indefinitely. There was a loophole; if you built the nuclear reactor in deep space, the rule didn’t apply. To my knowledge, there was only one reactor kicking around Mars. H3 had had it built, at great expense, for his super-fast spaceship. He kept the reactor as a backup somewhere in the Alamo dome.
I flew north, tagging several unutilized southern-facing hillsides. This told the drones to add panel infrastructure in that area. Harmony Colony was located north of the Martian equator, and these sloping hills gave us optimal coverage.
Assembly drones milled about the front lines of the construction project. The drones looked like insects. Each had six large wheels and several mechanical arms. I tapped a few commands to optimize their routes.
I was about to head back when I noticed something out of the ordinary: a new dome out by the spaceport. It was small, maybe a third the size of the domes in the colony but had several modular buildings connected to it and even had an oversized airlock.
What the hell? I said to myself. How was there construction I don’t know about?
Curious, I piloted the craft toward the mysterious dome.
“MATC, this is Pelican Papa Delta Charley, you wouldn’t mind if I flew over the spaceport? I’d like to do a systems check on the infrastructure.”
“Roger that, Pelican, fly over approved. Residual turbulence from recent shuttle landings should be minimal,” the tower replied.
“Copy that.”
I flew low and slow over the canyon, parallel to Harmony’s two-kilometer suspension bridge. As I got closer, I noticed a canal connecting the spaceport’s main terminal to the new dome. Like most canals connecting the domes, it had a flexi-glass roof. Inside the canal, several tan trucks flowed toward the new dome.
I piloted the Pelican lower. A man at the end of the channel waved the trucks into a modular building. He wore a tan uniform and had something slung over his shoulder, which had to be a rifle of some kind. What the hell?
I banked lower still, passing within fifty feet of the canal. This time, I could see other people in the channel; some even looked up. These were soldiers! On their backs, they carried the first guns I’d seen since leaving Earth.
I entered the observation deck, still wearing my flight suit. The deck protruded from the south end of the six o’clock dome. Its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked our staging area and several control consoles enabled us to access the colony’s electrical systems. The observation deck was where we coordinated activities out on the surface. It was also our break room.
“Well, shit,” Jimmy said after I explained what I had seen. “Someone doesn’t watch the news!” he took a sip of coffee and brought up a news report on the HV.
The room’s holovision showed Robert Bowden, Harmony’s most trusted anchor. Actually, besides social media, he was the colony’s only source for news. “Last night, the Martian Transport Constellation II, arrived in orbit. Early this morning, a shuttle carrying one hundred and fifty members of the Multinational Defense Force arrived on Mars for two years of intensive training. Please welcome our guests to our fine colony!”
Kevin came around the corner, removing his work gloves and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He wore a t-shirt with the image of a LEGO moon rover that appeared to drive forward as he walked across the room.
“You working on the holiday, too?” Jimmy asked, scowling at the animation on Kevin’s shirt.
“What holiday is it?” Kevin took a sip of his coffee and made a face. He added four creamers and tried it again.
“Landing Day,” I said.
“Oh yeah, ah, right. What’s up?” Kevin asked, taking another sip and nodding at the coffee, satisfied with his concoction.
“I just got back from a survey flight. Did you know we now have a military base out by the spaceport?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Kevin responded. “I think it’s kind of cool. Maybe we can go watch the war games from the Look-Off.”
“Under what circumstances would you ever need to fight in conditions this harsh? Hell, there’s not even another colony to fight.”
“We could just ask them,” Kevin suggested. “There were quite a few military folks here when I arrived on the planet, mostly senior US military officers who lived with us in the circumferential domes. I asked them why they were here, and they said, ‘Space is the ultimate high ground.’ I guess the U.S. government found it important for them to be here.”
Jimmy was shaking his head. “I’ve been here since the beginning, and yeah, the military comes and goes. But don’t you go snooping around. You don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble? What does that mean?” I said. “I’m just upset they set up a base without even asking us. Now we have to power that thing!”
“Listen,” Jimmy said, pointing at me with his coffee. “The MDF is a private military force; they probably paid big money to be here. Who knows what other back room deals they have going on. Let’s stop pretending the corporation has our best interests in mind.”
“Listen, Jimbo,” I said. “We’re just workers on an oil rig in the middle of the ocean. That’s it. We do three things: research, mining, and construction so we can do more research and more mining.” I was getting worked up. “Do they realize what those weapons could do to a dome?”
“It’s flexi-glass, John, and it can take a few hits.” Kevin added.
“Uh huh,” I responded. “I wouldn’t want to risk it.”
“It sounds like a fun experiment, though,” Kevin said. “How many bullets does it take to breach a dome? You never know when that information will come in handy.”
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br /> Jimmy rolled his eyes. “C’mon, hippies, it’s not the first time we’ve had war games on Mars. When the Navy Seals were here in 2058, you could feel the concussions in the ground.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “On that note, let’s go for a beer.”
“At eleven in the morning?” I said.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere. And you said it was a holiday,” Kevin pointed out, knowing I’d cave. Jimmy just shook his head and walked away.
Kevin and I piled into my SUV and headed to the central dome. When we arrived I told the vehicle to go park itself and we entered the bar. The bar sat on top of Mars’s only shopping complex and overlooked the pavilion, a popular hangout for the colony’s residents.
“Hey, Power Team!” someone yelled from deep within the bar. I looked through the crowd of people and saw Leeth waving an empty pitcher of beer.
Kevin tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Forgot to tell you, Leeth got dumped again.”
“Really?” I said, but not entirely surprised. It happened enough that I didn’t keep track any more. “Maranda, the COTS shuttle agent?”
Kevin nodded.
“Welcome back to the Mars Bar,” Leeth said. “Where’ve you been? It’s almost noon!”
“You okay, Leeth?” I asked. “Kevin told me about Maranda.”
“They come and they go, mate.”
He seemed to be taking it well.
“What are we drinking?” Kevin asked. “Next round’s on me.”
“Keith’s for me,” I answered.
“Victoria Bitter,” Leeth said. Kevin nodded, turned and went over to the bar. The beer wasn’t imported from Earth, they brewed it here, but they did a fair job simulating the flavors of our favorite beers. The recipe for Alexander Keith’s IPA could be traced back almost three hundred years to Halifax, Nova Scotia.
I told Leeth about the new compound out by the spaceport.
“You’re not the only one they surprised,” Leeth said, taking the last sip from his glass. “That Defense Force requested use of my clinic.”
Kevin returned with the beers. “Look over there,” he said, motioning with his eyes.
We watched as four soldiers trickled into the establishment and headed for the bar. “Maybe we can ask them why they’re here,” Kevin suggested.
“We know why they’re here, Kevin,” I said.
“I want to know why they think they’re here,” Kevin countered. “You know, get the inside scoop. It’s not like they’re training to fight Martians!”
“You mean aliens,” Leeth clarified. “Technically, we’re the Martians.”
“You’re only a Martian if you’re born on Mars,” I countered.
“I’m going to find out!” Kevin said, setting his beer down on the table and walking up to a soldier twice his size. Based on his lapel, he was a sergeant. “Excuse me, sir,” Kevin said, his accent stronger than usual. He must have been nervous. “Excuse me, why are you here?”
“We’re here for the beer, kid,” the sergeant muttered. “Haven’t had a decent brew in months.”
Kevin came back to our table. “They’re here for the beer,” he reported.
“Yeah, we heard him,” I said.
Leeth started to get up. “I want to talk to them.”
“Oh, no, don’t you go over there.” I put out a hand to stop him, but Leeth shook it off and went over anyway.
Kevin looked at me. “I think Leeth’s already drunk.”
Leeth tapped the man on the shoulder. “Mind if I buy you guys a drink?” he asked. The sergeant shrugged.
Leeth got the bartender’s attention. We watched as he poured a line of shots. “This is going to get messy,” I muttered. I’d dragged Leeth from the colony’s drunk tank on several occasions. Enough times that I knew Captain Daniels, the colony’s chief of police.
Kevin’s watch vibrated and he looked at it and frowned. Lack of real time communication with Earth was difficult for all of us. Even when Earth and Mars were at their closest, a message traveling at the speed of light took almost four minutes to make the trip.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Message from home,” he replied. “My grandmother’s been sick. The doctors don’t think she’ll make it through the year.”
“Tell me about her,” I said, setting my beer aside for a moment. When bad things happened on far-away Earth, there wasn’t anything a colonist could do about it. People on Mars had learned to stop everything and listen when someone had a family emergency. It was considered incredibly rude if you didn’t.
“I called her Dadi, which means ‘Father’s mother.’ My dad worked for the ISRO, but Dadi got me excited about space. She’s why I became an engineer. We’d watch sci-fi shows and put together Lego spaceships. You know, the ones that actually hovered on a bed of magnets?” Kevin made a flying motion with his hand.
“I never had that set, always wanted it though.”
“It’s tough, being on Mars. Not being there for your friends and family back home.” Kevin took a sip of his beer. “I regret not seeing my sister’s graduation or being there for my dad when he was in the hospital. It’s times like this when a ten-minute comm delay seems like an eternity.”
I just nodded at this. I’d only sent a few messages back to Earth, and I didn’t care much for the replies. My mother kept asking me to come home, as if we’d suddenly become close if I did.
Leeth came back to the seat holding the soldiers’ berets. “Dude, what the hell,” Kevin said.
Leeth shrugged, giving Kevin a sideways smile. “They started imitating my accent, called me a ratbag. I thought it’d be funny!” Leeth said.
“Give’em back, Leeth,” I said, as the soldiers approached our table. “You’re outnumbered.”
Leeth got up and turned around, bumping into the stocky corporal as he did.
Kevin sighed. “Drinking brings out the worst in people,” he said.
“Careful, buddy!” Leeth yelled, slurring his speech.
“Ratbag,” the corporal said, shoving Leeth on the shoulder. Leeth turned and connected with an uppercut. We heard a loud “click” as teeth snapped together. For a moment, the soldier just stood there stunned.
The soldier came around, striking Leeth in the mouth. After spitting a glob of blood onto the floor, he hit back, chopping the young soldier in the neck. The corporal coughed and stepped back, his hands to his throat.
“Dude, what are you doing!” Kevin yelled.
Leeth spat again, picked up the hats and threw them at the soldiers. This time, two soldiers tackled him, taking Leeth’s arms and throwing him across the room. Leeth flew across the bar, tumbling awkwardly in the low gravity and knocking into several unoccupied tables.
Leeth hit a wall and slid to the floor. Someone whistled and the bar went silent. It was the sergeant; he stood there, removing his fingers from his mouth. I ran over to Leeth, who was borderline unconscious, and pulled him up into a seated position.
“What the hell?” Kevin said, facing the sergeant. The sergeant reached over and pinched Kevin’s collar, crushing the chip governing the animation on Kevin’s shirt. Kevin brushed him off, and stumbled back toward Leeth and me.
The bartender stepped between us. “Just get the hell out before I call the police,” he said, and then pointed at a seemingly unconscious Leeth. “And tell your friend not to come back.”
I dragged Leeth to his feet and carried him out of the bar. Kevin grabbed his other arm and we helped him down the stairs to the pavilion. Several soldiers milled about, apparently enjoying the open atmosphere after being cooped up in the transport. Two squad cars pulled into the pavilion and four cops began jogging toward the bar. I guess someone called them anyway. I pulled Leeth into an alley and out of sight.
Leeth opened his left eye. His right eye was swollen shut. “Applebee’s, anyone?” he asked.
Kevin gave him a dirty look. “Shut up, Leeth.”
After getting Leeth to his apartment and onto
his couch, I headed home for some rest. I looked out my living room window, taking in the intricacies of the Martian Landscape. Rock ledges jutted from distant ridges while the memories of ancient riverbeds etched in channels of polished stone. The sun shone on the solar arrays in the hills as drone trucks moved in and out of the mining bunkers. The view actually reminded me of Las Vegas.
I grabbed a slice of leftover pizza and a ginger ale from the fridge and sat down on a fiber-plastic couch. I just closed my eyes, happy to be home in the peace and quiet. After lunch, I planned to take a long nap before meeting Leeth and Kevin for the Landing Day festivities.
The main event was a movie projected on the roof of the central dome, a documentary of Mars’s colonization. The old hands said it was really cool and something not to miss. The central dome essentially became the solar system’s largest planetarium.
I’d seen the show before but not on the big screen. The documentary began sixty years ago, when most people believed a manned mission to Mars was impossible. There were some great quotes from people like Elon Musk, “Fortunately, the people who said it couldn’t be done didn’t impede the people doing it.”
It included the footage from 2031, when the first humans landed on Mars. The mission was short by our standards, the astronauts spending only forty days on the surface. After that, it documented the mission of 2035 where astronauts and cosmonauts spent a year on the surface. Their goal was to prepare Mars for colonization by learning to live off the land. The video ended with the launch of the first construction drones in 2040, when Harmony Colony began to take shape.
I opened my eyes and took a bite of the pizza. My watch buzzed, a text from the company: New PDC employee. Pick up at spaceport immediately.
A new employee? Between Kevin, Jimmy and me, we had power management down to a science.
Name? I texted back, not expecting an answer from whoever was in charge. I didn’t get a response. Most of our assignments didn’t come from any specific person; we just got instructions from “Corporate.” I had always been okay with ambiguity, but on Mars, it was a constant. As employees of Red Planet Mining, we just had to learn to roll with it.