The Colonists

by Keith Fenwick

  Janice had shown a high tolerance for the chemical sedatives introduced to the food supply. She would be the most likely colonist to follow through with the bomb option and this could not be allowed to happen. It would require a substantial chunk of bandwidth to keep her under control given her natural tendency towards assertiveness, more than the rest of the crew combined, and Bert didn’t have much to spare.

  Bert and the MPU were confident they could save the colony if a bomb was detonated, but some scenarios had shown complete body loss and this they could not contemplate. Even with almost infinite processing capability, the establishment of the Mars colony had tested their capability to deploy instantaneously, and they had become extremely risk-averse, especially where the survival of the fleshies was concerned.

  It became clear I needed to interact with you and ensure we had you on side to prevent any action leading to injury or loss of life amongst your fellow colonists.

  “But why should I follow any instructions from you? How do I know I am really on Mars?”

  What would it take to convince you to assist us? The MPU was keen to keep Janice on side and bring her along on the journey, rather than force the issue.

  “Can you prove we are on Mars?”

  I think I can accommodate you if you go outside with adequate protection. You can leave the settlement and travel some distance across the planet, but you must promise to follow instructions which are aimed at keeping you safe.

  “Yeah right.” Setting rules before they even got started sounded a lot like Bert, and the people pulling the strings behind him, was trying to make sure she only got to see what they wanted her to see. “Typical,” she muttered under her breath.

  We have a duty to keep you and your fellow colonists at the settlement safe.

  “OK, I'll play your little game.” Janice snapped.

  Very well. Please enter the airlock and don the suit we will provide.

  “What about the others?” Janice asked looking over her shoulder, motioning to Bill, Robert, and the rest of the crew.

  They probably won’t even notice you’re gone.

  Janice looked at them. While she hated to admit it, the Bert thing was right.

  She walked through the door at the end of the communal area, and into the short corridor beyond the airlock. She pressed her palm against the access pad at the doorway and stepped through to the airlock chamber proper. If Bert (it made her feel better that the noise in her head had a name) was telling her the truth, a thin composite membrane was the only thing separating her from the cold hostile Martian environment. She shivered at the thought of what might happen if she was exposed to it without the protection of a space suit.

  Janice took a moment to consider her options. If she really was on Mars and had her very own super-computer for company then life might start to get interesting. If not.. well, she didn’t want to dwell on that option.

  The door slid shut behind her and she walked down the row of suits tethered against the wall. Her suit was the closest to the outside door. Her assigned role in the settlement was to be an operations manager who would be out on the surface most often, so it made sense for her suit to be closest to the door. She had used it in numerous simulations and was confident it was fit for purpose based on her training experience, despite not being able to test it on the surface of the planet.

  The suits were designed to be put on without any assistance. All one needed to do was carefully step backwards into the suit, thumb a small knob on the inside of each cuff and the suit would zip itself closed.

  Not that one. Bert said as she positioned herself in front of her suit. It is just for show and is far too primitive to be consistently reliable in the Martian environment.

  Another blow for cutting-edge human technology, Janice thought.

  The wall opposite the airlock retracted to reveal a shelf, which cantilevered outwards on slim metal rods. The shelf held a standard looking helmet with a fat rubbery collar attached to it, but there was no sign of a suit.

  Place the helmet over your head. When you are ready, the helmet will then interface with your new nodes and the collar will extrude over your body. Once you are ready press the stud on the chin of the helmet or use the vocal command 'Activate suit'.

  “I have nodes?”

  Haven’t you been listening to me? Once it is fully deployed all the icons across the bottom of the helmet’s faceplate will glow green. When you re-enter the airlock after being outside, the vocal command ‘Deactivate suit’ will initiate the removal of the suit. When you are fully conversant with your suite of apps, you can use them instead of voice commands. In the meantime, be careful when you are out on the surface that you do not inadvertently command the suit to deactivate. There are fail-safes in place to prevent this, but you can never be too sure.

  “Well that’s reassuring,” Janice muttered under her breath. The whole idea of this new space suit made her a little uneasy. “What’s wrong with my own suit? It got me here, didn’t it? And it won't open on a stray verbal command!”

  This model has enhanced protection from solar radiation and allows for much greater articulation and manoeuvrability. It is less bulky, and it will be much easier for you to move around.

  Janice wasn’t completely convinced but she realised Bert probably possessed many creative options to kill her off if it really wanted to.

  Now, place the helmet on your head and press the stud under the chin of the helmet.

  Janice did as she was told and for a second nothing happened. Then the rubbery collar that settled across her shoulders began to flow down her body like a viscous liquid. There was no other way to describe it. In a few seconds it fully enclosed her from head to foot like a second skin and the icons in her visor glowed a soft green colour.

  OK. All systems are optimal, we are good to go with your first extended walk on the surface of Mars. Please be extremely careful and follow my instructions. I don’t want to lose you now we’ve got this far.

  Janice was impressed with the suit. Whatever trickery the MFY people had used to generate it, this was a truly remarkable achievement.

  “How will I open the outside door to the airlock?” Janice asked, only half listening for a response while she tested the new suit, flexing her muscles and stretching her limbs to gauge her freedom of movement. It was a great piece of kit, as one of her old instructors liked to say when they had new toys to play with. It gave her complete articulation, unencumbered by the glitch-prone modules of her own suit. Neither was there a rather embarrassing set of nappies and a female condom to collect any waste. Janice wasn’t sure how she was supposed to relieve herself. She’d find out soon enough, though it did cross her mind she might not be outside long enough to find out.

  Unlike the suits she was used to, with various fluids in pipes attached to the outside, gurgling, and sloshing around, driven by whirring pumps, noisy cooling fans, and various other sounds, this suit was completely silent. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and the soft slap of her footsteps as she walked across the floor to the outer door, and the thump of her heart beating wildly in her ears. It couldn’t be real.

  An icon in the helmet display started to glow amber, and Janice was momentarily gripped by a sense of panic. A message popped into her mind, informing her that her heart rate and blood pressure were rising.

  She took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves and relax, and the amber icon gradually resolved back to green.

  I have just administered a mild sedative to help you relax. In future, you will be able to control the environmental management system and override the autonomous monitoring programs to administer medicines and stimulants when required.

  Janice decided that might be useful.

  For this expedition I have taken the liberty to override these systems. Now, are you ready to exit the settlement?

  Janice nodded, not trusting herself to reply without an embarrassing squeak as the outer door slid open, leaving a little rim to
step over into the outside world. There was the hint of a breeze as the pressure in the airlock equalised with the outside atmosphere, and immediately streams of reddish grit began to invade the airlock.

  She stepped over the rim and planted both feet on the ground. The first person in human history to stand on the surface of Mars. It was a huge personal achievement, even if nobody else would ever hear about it.

  Janice walked several paces and turned back to look at the settlement. It was much larger than she had imagined. Much bigger than the design had called for, from what she could recall from the plans and mock-ups they had pored over while they trained.

  The colony consisted of two identical structures several hundred metres apart, linked by an access tube. One building for the androids and one for the humans, she guessed.

  Correct. Now continue forward and prepare to veer around to your left.

  She followed the instruction and made her way along the edge of the building. Apart from the settlement itself and the landing craft dotted about, nothing else was visible in any direction except the lifeless, rocky, ochre-coloured landscape stretching to the horizon. Janice had never experienced anything so barren, so devoid of life. Not even a single tree or shrub was in evidence in the dim, dusk-like light. The MFY people really were excellent at this CGI stuff.

  Then an idea it struck her.

  “You’re real Martians, right, or what is left of them? There are real Martians after all.”

  No, you and your colleagues, and the plants and various organisms you have brought with you, are the only life forms on the planet. To our knowledge, I should add. This is an ancient planet, in an ancient universe, so anything is possible, however unlikely it might sound.

  “Well, who are the Skidians then?”

  All in good time. You really are on the surface of Mars, so you should take us and our project seriously when we reveal it in its entirety.

  “What would happen if I removed my helmet?”

  I won’t allow this to happen. However, if you somehow circumvented the systems designed to keep you safe, you would die. You would experience the excruciating pain of rapid decompression. I would be unlikely to get assistance to you in time. Do you want me to describe all the details?

  “No thanks.” Janice had been to enough briefings on the subject to have a rough idea what would happen to her if she was exposed to the Martian atmosphere without adequate protection.

  We have prepared a surface buggy for you to use. Look around. We suggest driving some distance from the settlement but be very careful because I have limited resources to provide relief if you get into trouble. Turn to your left at the end of the building.

  Janice followed the instructions and discovered a vehicle sitting on six large balloon tyres.

  “It looks a little different to what I expected?” It was at least three times the size of the open Martian rovers she had trained on and had a fully enclosed, environmentally controlled cab.

  She grabbed the handrail of the ladder leading to the cabin door, pulled on the latch, and climbed carefully into the cab. Once she had strapped herself in, she checked the controls. They were the identical to those on the rovers she had trained on. This was simply a much larger and far more comfortable vehicle, with an enclosed cabin so she would not be exposed to the elements when she drove around.

  Make sure you unhook the power cables before you leave and stand clear of them when they retract. A series of cables trailed from a socket underneath the cabin to the wall of the settlement. Janice clambered out of the cabin, tugged the plug from the socket and watched the cable recoil into the wall of the settlement like a piece of stretched elastic being released.

  “Why didn’t you mention this before I climbed inside?”

  OK, now power up the vehicle and move forward, away from the settlement. Bert continued as if it hadn’t heard. Experiment with the controls until you get used to them. Keep well away from the habitat buildings. We don’t want to risk the possibility of any damage to the structure.

  Janice thought this was more about keeping her out of sight while filming was going on in the settlement or preventing her from ramming the building to release her fellow crew.

  “Can I remove the helmet?”

  We suggest you leave it on for your first trip in case of emergency, but you may raise the visor if you find this more comfortable.

  Well that’s a neat trick. Another reason to allow them to continue the fiction. But her heart wasn’t in questioning where she was any more.

  “What time is it? I need a time check please.” The sunlight was dimmer than she thought it should be. She wondered if it was dawn or dusk, or the sun had dropped behind a cloud.

  It is almost midday Martian time.

  Seventeen

  Zarif had lost track of time since the trawler had foundered and they had been transferred to the transitional facility they were now housed in. He reckoned three or four days must have passed, but he wasn’t sure. His mobile had mysteriously disappeared, and the device he had been left with told him the time, but not the date or the day.

  Like his fellow passengers, he was becoming edgy. Nobody in authority had turned up to start processing them. They all knew their rights as refugees and expected to be processed quickly.

  Most of the survivors were rather indignant the Europeans had apparently changed the rules without telling them. Zarif realised his own escape plan had been hurried and he had been completely unprepared. This made him feel inadequate and depressed him, until he realised everyone else was in the same boat, whether they had planned their journey well or not.

  Most of the adult passengers decided their rescuers were Italian, and what was happening to them was entirely typical. All the European nations were beginning to loudly object to the tens of thousands of refugees who were heading for their shores, but Zarif had been told the Italians were the most xenophobic.

  He didn't care whether European nations had an obligation to take refugees. All he knew was life in Europe would be better than the one he had left behind, and he hoped he could get some form of official status and make a new life for himself. He knew that if he managed to find work, he would end up in a menial low paid role, but anything was preferable to staying in his war-torn home with no hope of a decent, secure future.

  However, many of his fellow passengers were adamant the Europeans should take them in and provide them with a secure environment and a standard of living at least the equal of their own population.

  Their reasoning was based on how the people of the Middle East and North Africa had been exploited for hundreds of years by their northern neighbours, who stole their land and grew rich on plunder and oil. Not only that, the foreigners had introduced all kinds of immorality and it was now payback time. The European nations were nothing but decadent cesspits, and all who lived in them should be consigned to hell. The migrants had also convinced themselves they were the rightful heirs to these lands and their bounty.

  Zarif didn’t share these sentiments. This outpouring of venom made him wonder why his fellow travellers, and the tens of thousands who had gone before them, bothered to attempt the uncertain and often dangerous crossing into Europe, given their distaste for the people who lived there, their cultures, and their religions. He suspected the lack of contact by the authorities, and a growing sense of unease that something was about to shatter their dreams of a better life, was driving these sentiments.

  He was careful not to say anything and share his thoughts on the matter with any of the various family groups or angry young men. He didn’t want to get involved with any rabble rousing and get offside with the camp administrators. Even if nobody was talking to them, they were surely being watched, their behaviour noted, and their conversations recorded.

  The other passengers were not so reticent, and rumblings of discontent were increasing. There was a general feeling these delays were intended to soften them up, the wait so interminable that they would eventually do anything to g
et out of there, including going home. Most of them were banking on having their request for asylum considered so that they were placed in a Protection System. The least preferred option was to be consigned to a detention centre from where they would be forcibly repatriated.

  After more time went by with no contact, talk of inciting a riot to get attention started to spread. Zarif had no intention of participating. No riots for him: no hunger strike or self-mutilation to get a bed in a hospital to generate sympathy for his plight or make it easier to escape. He wanted none of that. He planned to keep his nose clean and give the administrators no reason to send him back home.

  A group of the younger men attempted to goad others into action. The young stirrers had found unlikely allies in some of the older men, those with daughters of marriageable age and unattached women in tow. Protecting the virtue of these women was at the forefront of their minds, as they gathered in little intense huddles. They were worried about their daughters getting into trouble with one of the young men and bringing their family into disrepute.

  Only a few days ago, they ruled their extended family groups strictly and kept their women relatively safe behind the walls of their household compounds. But in this strange environment, in this form of limbo, they felt powerless, and they began to see their whole way of life threatened. This was beginning to impact on their sense of manhood and self-worth. They had all decided where they wanted to be settled, they all felt they deserved a choice, so the lack of communication was making them extremely anxious. Added to which many of them had made promises of a brighter future to their families, a commitment that looked more difficult to fulfil with each passing hour.

  Most of the men (the women didn’t get asked for an opinion) had convinced themselves the Crusaders owed them a livelihood, a decent home, an income and all the other trappings of western civilisation. They all to a man failed to see the irony of these ideals. They were also owed the freedom to pursue their religion, though none of them were interested in the radical forms of Islam aimed at spreading that faith in a new land.