by Read, John
And below that he wrote his call sign. Avro.
Amelia smiled and a single tear streamed down her face. Avro looked at me and handed me the Sharpie. I sat down at the table, leaned over and wrote, John.
Passing the pen to Kevin, he smiled, and wrote, Kevin, and drew a starfighter beside his name.
Amelia took her arm back and stared at the words. She hated wearing the awkwardly printed device and couldn’t even itch under the metal for fear of a signal getting out. But now, the thing became her most valuable possession in the whole world.
Kevin turned to the console and logged onto SpaceNET, accessing a recent briefing from NewsFlash. We needed to understand what the public knew. Did the colonists know that Project Bakersfield had caused the storm?
Bowden’s face appeared on the screen. He stood on the steps to the Central Control building. “Project Bakersfield was an abject failure. According to Central’s top man, Director Jackson Carver, the Alamo’s engineering team controlled the Anti-Storm System at the time the storm hit. The Alamo used over eighty percent of the colony’s reserve power before shutting it down.
“I asked Director Carver if the Alamo had permission to use the colony’s reserve, here was his response.”
The video switched to Jackson. “Two words: Hell. No.”
Bowden continued, “Central control, along with the colony’s engineering departments, will be conducting a thorough investigation of this incident.” The feed ended.
“Why is Jackson covering for the Alamo?” I asked.
“Perhaps he’s stalling or he doesn’t want the colonists freaking out,” Avro answered.
“The colonists should be freaking out,” I said. “We’ve got only a few weeks left of reserve.”
“They can freak out all they want,” Amelia said. “But they’re not going to actually do anything about it. Not yet, anyway. Most of these people have been through a storm but none lasting over a few days. They’re not ready for a fight. But when the dome blows, everything will change.”
At eight p.m. that evening, our alarms sang. As Kevin predicted, the MDF’s depressurizing airlock spiked the atmospheric pressure in the colony. Kevin set the song “Staying Alive” as the alert’s tone. We were resting on cots near the airlock when the alerts sounded.
“Get up, Kevin,” Avro yelled, poking him in the ribs. “We’ll radio you as soon as we know which dome you need to bust. And call Leeth. Tell him to prepare to receive casualties.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Kevin said. He leapt from the cot and bolted to his car. He would wait for our call on the western side of the circumferential.
“This is it, team. Good luck,” Amelia said, pulling the bulky spacesuit up over her shoulders. “Zip me up, Avro?”
Avro helped Amelia zip the large zipper up her front. We had modified Kevin’s spacesuit to fit Amelia. Earlier that day, she spent an hour scrubbing a chocolate stain out of the inside of the helmet. We also found it amusing seeing the name “Patel” embroidered on the front and back of her unit. The name patch was a hologram with fictional space fighter planes circling the letters.
I snapped my helmet into place and keyed several commands into my arm display, activating the suit and turning on the radios. Just like we had trained, I picked up a crossbow and followed Avro and Amelia into the airlock.
“Radio check,” Amelia said as she tapped her finger against her helmet.
“Avro here, I read you five by five over,” Avro said as he pushed the button to activate the airlock.
“John here, five by five,” I said over the sound of air rushing from the room.
“Kevin?” Amelia called. Kevin was supposed to be wearing his earpiece.
After a pause, Kevin’s voice rang through our spacesuit’s internal speakers. “I’m here. Would you guys hurry up already?”
“Activate visual overlay,” Avro instructed. We hit a command on our wrist controls as the helmet cameras fed visual information to our visors. The airlock door opened and a rush of filthy Martian atmosphere swept in.
We stepped out into the storm, leaning slightly forward against the winds. Mars’s atmosphere is thin, almost a vacuum, so the two hundred-knot winds were just an inconvenience. The dust was the issue. Fortunately, the drone Kevin had programmed to keep our staging area free of drifts had done its job.
Avro unlatched the garage door and opened it. Our visors illuminated the interior of the garage as we piled into the jeep. The vehicle had no roof, just like the Jeeps from World War II, except this jeep’s seats accommodated the backpacks attached to each spacesuit. Avro tossed his weapon in the rear and hopped into the driver’s seat. Amelia held a satchel of radio equipment in her lap and sat shotgun. I occupied the seat behind Amelia, setting my weapon beside Avro’s.
“Don’t forget to buckle your seatbelts,” I said.
“Roger that… Dad,” Amelia said, buckling herself in. Avro did the same. They probably didn’t need the reminder.
“Let’s do this,” Avro said as he hit the accelerator. The jeep burst from the garage and into the storm.
Visibility was worse than I expected, but Avro knew where he was going. In our visors, the blustering dust looked like a raging snowstorm. We drove south, reaching the edge of the area swept clean by Kevin’s drone. The jeep launched over several sand dunes. Avro yanked the steering column to the right, turning west toward the canyon. Martian dirt spewed from the wheels before being swept away in the violent winds.
We followed a service road that ran between the solar arrays. Our path curved up as we approached the ridge that overlooked the road from the spaceport. Behind our jeep, rushing winds filled our tracks with dust.
Avro slammed on the brakes. The jeep skidded to a stop, each wheel pushing up a pile of loose dirt. The vehicle came to rest behind a green electrical box, like the kind you find in neighborhoods with underground power. The box was large enough to hide the jeep from anyone approaching the colony.
We piled out, sneaking around the metallic structure. I looked back towards the circumferential and could barely see the nearest dome through the storm.
“Okay,” Avro said pointing into the abyss. “There’s the service road. We’ll take cover behind that bluff.” Avro motioned us toward a rock outcropping that would provide us a clear line of sight to the road and the colony but would hide our spacesuits from view.
“Roger that,” I said.
“Copy,” Amelia said.
We arrived at the bluff as an MFD jeep crested the canyon. The jeep’s two front tires left the ground for a second as it transitioned to level terrain. We lay prone with only the tops of our helmets peeking over the bluff. Avro propped up his crossbow like a sniper rifle.
“There they are,” Amelia said. “It looks like we’ve got four bogeys. Hang tight, Kevin. We’ll have a target dome for you in sixty seconds.”
The MDF vehicle worked its way towards the colony, stopping at the nine o’clock dome. The soldiers got out and pulled their equipment from the truck bed.
“Okay, Kevin, go to the nine o’clock dome. Get in position and wait for my signal,” Amelia instructed.
“Copy that,” Kevin replied. “Heading to the nine o’clock dome now.” It occurred to me that we were sending Kevin into the doomed dome. If we screwed this up, we’d never see him again.
“All right guys,” Amelia said. “Let’s hold here until we move in. No need to change positions and risk being spotted.”
We watched as the soldiers placed a dozen explosive charges along the perimeter of the dome. Each charge was the size of a lunchbox, just as Amelia had described.
“See that guy who stayed behind?” Amelia said. “He’s arming the detonator. As soon as they leave, we’ll run over and pull the plug. Avro, you’ve got the best aim. Stay here and cover us.”
The remaining soldier finished his work and trudged back to the jeep. Before getting in, he looked at the others, nodding. Had they contemplated the morality of what they were doing? They had
obviously bought into the idea that they were killing the colonists for the greater good, but I’m guessing that didn’t make the job any easier. The officer climbed into the jeep and they headed back toward the canyon.
“Okay, moving in,” Amelia announced. “Kevin, trigger the alarm and get those people out of there!”
Kevin waited in a quiet alley on the western side of the dome. He parked the car and retrieved the pickaxe from the passenger’s seat. He approached the glass and fastened the breacher. “This is it,” he said and swung the pickaxe at his target. The breacher made a brittle crack like a single round fired from a pistol.
Kevin’s hands ached from the reverberation. A small chip formed in the wall and a few tiny shards of flexi-glass fell to the ground. It didn’t work.
Amelia’s voice shouted over the radio, “Any time now, Kevin!”
We trudged down the ridge to the bomb’s trigger mechanism. Amelia yanked the bomb containing the MDF’s transmitter out of the circuit.
“Here, take this,” she said.
“What?” I yelled. “I thought you were going to disarm it!”
“This just became our decoy. Take it fifty paces from the dome and join Avro in the bluff. I’ll meet you there. Run!”
I realized what she was doing. When the soldiers hit the trigger, the bomb would detonate harmlessly, buying us some time. If they hit the trigger too early, I’d never know.
“Kevin, about that evacuation,” Amelia radioed.
“Just a minute!” Kevin said. She heard the pick hitting the glass.
“Shit,” Kevin said, looking around to see if anyone had spotted him.
“I heard that,” Amelia said “What’s going on? Why aren’t people evacuating?”
“Your stupid breacher was a dud. Any advice would be extremely helpful!”
I dropped the decoy fifty paces to the northwest and sprinted back up the ridge to join Avro in the bluff.
“Work the problem, Kevin,” Avro said.
Amelia finished her work and hurried back to our position. The three of us lay down in a row. Then it happened: the MDF soldiers hit their trigger and the decoy bomb detonated with a high-pitched crack. A plume of Martian grit sprayed into the air and we felt the concussion in the ground. In a split second, the plume dissipated in the wind as if it had never existed.
From our position on the buff, we could see the MDF jeep parked beyond the crest of the canyon. One of the men got out to inspect the blast. “Kevin, hurry up before they realize the dome is still intact!” I said in a loud whisper.
The man walked up to the edge of the canyon, giving him line of sight to the dome. Through the darkness, dust and wind, the colony had to be at the limits of his visor’s visual range. I watched as he trudged forward, leaning slightly into the low-pressure wind. When he noticed that the dome was still intact, we watched him hitting a trigger mechanism. He turned toward the MDF jeep and shrugged.
Kevin took one more swing with all his strength. The pickaxe buried itself into the flexi-glass. He yanked on the handle, trying to get it loose. It didn’t move.
“Ah, I have a problem,” he yelled.
“Just shut up and figure it out!” I said, watching as the soldier climbed back into the jeep with his friends.
Kevin looked at the axe then looked at his car, muttering, “Dammit, I like that car!”
He sat in the driver’s seat and reached for the dash, hitting two buttons: one to disengage the autopilot and another to deactivate the collision avoidance system. He threw the car into reverse, backing several feet into the alley. He shifted into drive and hit the accelerator, reaching fifteen kilometers per hour. He wanted to embed the axe, not bust out into the storm.
The car smashed into the dome wall, the front end crumpling as the axe embedded itself into the bumper. The airbags inflated, slapping Kevin’s face with fabric and peppering him with white powder.
Nearby, alarms raged and Kevin covered his ears. Two repair drones released from their caches and buzzed toward the small hole. People rushed into the streets in a panic, like airline passengers when the masks deploy.
Emergency power kicked on and all the streetlights illuminated, lighting the ill-fated dome for the last time.
Kevin contemplated his personal situation. What would happen if Central Control found out he had intentionally busted the dome? He worried that the blame would rest on him. This was Kevin’s lucky day. The pickaxe had punctured the car’s battery pack, creating a spark. The battery pack began to burn.
Kevin yanked the small Lego Starfighter hanging from his rearview mirror and fled the vehicle. Flames poured from the wheel wells and around the axe. He glanced back at his car, but within seconds, the flames were so bright he could hardly look at them. Drones arrived to patch the hole but were overwhelmed by the heat. They fell to the ground, robotic arms flailing about.
“Success! I’m getting the hell out of here!” Kevin yelled into his radio.
“Roger that,” Amelia said. “Let us know when it’s clear.”
Avro and I trained our weapons on the MDF jeep as it crested the canyon wall and made its way back towards the dome.
“Kevin, get those people out of there!” I said. “If those soldiers make it back to the bomb we’ll be screwed!”
Kevin ran onto the boulevard and towards the nearest tunnel. “The dome’s gonna blow!” he yelled as loud as he could. The people heard him and accelerated their sprint to the exits. Volunteer wardens in orange vests stood in the channels, encouraging people to “Move! Move! Move!”
The soldiers reached the dome wall and parked the jeep. The four of them left the vehicle and walked towards Amelia’s improvised trigger.
Avro looked over at me. “Are you ready for a firefight?” he asked.
“Hell no,” I responded, but cocked my crossbow just in case. The MDF wore their rifles on the thigh of their spacesuits. If it came to shooting, we’d better not miss.
Kevin reached the channel and watched as the last of the people ran through.
“All clear!” said one of the wardens.
“All clear!” the other wardens repeated. “Seal off the dome!” The two wardens ran into the tunnel as the barrier rose behind them.
“Almost there,” Kevin said. “Almost there,” he said again. “Barriers closed!”
“Roger that,” Amelia said. “Let the show begin.”
The MDF soldiers were beginning to realize that someone had tampered with their bomb. We could tell by their body language they were chattering in obvious confusion.
Amelia flipped open the cover of the trigger mechanism, hitting the red button within. One of the soldiers turned and looked right at us. A cold chill ran down my spine as I realized we’d been seen. There was a pause. For a moment nothing happened. Then, the soldier vaporized along with his three companions. A flash of orange-red light resonated through the storm as Avro, Amelia and I huddled behind the bluff.
The charges detonated in sequence along the dome’s foundation, each sounding like a thunder crack. The western edge of the dome lifted up off its foundation, exposing the structures within to the near vacuum of the Martian atmosphere.
The channels, usually filled with multiple lanes of traffic, were packed with survivors. The windows in the pressure barrier attracted a crowd, Kevin included, as people watched the events inside the affected dome.
“Oh fuck,” sounded on repeat as the crowd witnessed the destruction on the other side of the glass. The structures inside the dome exploded. The atmospheric pressure in the buildings released into the walls and the buildings tore from their foundations. Trees were stripped of their leaves and snapped in half by a rush of air. Parked cars rolled westward over the spot where multi-story buildings had stood seconds before. Debris spilled out onto the Martian surface. Vehicles, trees and household items littered the landscape.
The pressure inside the dome dropped by ninety-nine percent and the storm rushed in. The Martian wind filled the dome with red dust. A
few street lights remained intact, providing a dim glow in the now defunct habitat.
I looked over at Avro and Amelia and realized I couldn’t see them. My ears ached from the concussion. A moment later, a hand pressed against my visor and I could see again. Amelia wiped the dirt from the glass covering my face, and I realized we were buried in dust and debris.
“Well,” Avro spoke as if we’d just taken a stroll in the park. “That was dramatic. Let’s go home.”
We stepped out of the airlock to find Kevin standing there, a goofy grin on his face. “You certainly know how to mess up a neighborhood,” he declared.
“Why are you out of breath?” I asked, setting my helmet on a shelf.
“I ran here,” he replied, taking a weapon from Avro so he could concentrate on removing his suit.
“What happened to your car?” Avro asked.
Kevin just smiled.
“You used your car to crack the dome,” Amelia said. Kevin nodded the affirmative. “Kevin, you are brilliant!”
Kevin smiled at Amelia, saying, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Well, it’s not every day you save thousands of lives,” Amelia said. “Avro, would you?” Amelia motioned to her spacesuit’s zipper.
We gathered in the observation lounge and Avro made hot chocolate. I wanted something stronger, whiskey perhaps, having been mildly traumatized by what we had just witnessed.
“So what’s next for the colony?” I asked, “And what’s next for us? We didn’t really think past today.”
“Well,” began Amelia, “those guys we blew up? They were four of the nine remaining officers who knew about the contingencies. The remaining five will think twice about blowing another dome any time soon.”
“We still have a problem,” I said. “H3 could probably find more conspirators and that storm will eventually kill us.”
“You mean instead of blowing us up, they’ll starve us out,” Avro said.
“Exactly.”
“There’s only one thing to do,” Amelia said with a mischievous tone. “It’s time to storm the Alamo.”