Kato's War

by Andrew C Broderick

  Kato took deep breaths. The elephant on his chest was gone. Lana, standing on Kato’s right, held a small device that projected a complex diagram of the project’s status into the air in front of her. Its contents mirrored those on a large midair display that was flat against the inside of the right wall of the clean room. Light from the data half a meter in front of her illuminated Lana’s face as she scanned it. She focused hard, her face betraying her anxiety. At the top of both Lana’s and the master display was a glowing display that counted down hours and minutes. It read 60:58.

  Goose bumps covered Kato’s skin. This is unreal, he thought. As one of the smartest engineers of the 21st century, he could never have imagined it. He turned to Lana. “Was IIX built here?” Lana nodded, without looking up.

  Martin, who stood on Kato’s left, elbowed him. “Don’t disturb the lady,” he snapped under his breath. Kato nodded. He looked up at the countdown clock, high above the floor of the clean room. Damn, he wished he could make his brain respond better. “Is that the time Zara’s got left?” he asked Martin.

  “She’s actually gotten hours more than that until she gets to Ceres. I’m guessing the timer is the deadline for them to get IIX ready. My buddy on the ETI’s keeping me appraised of Huo X-37-B’s progress. So far, she’s kept the same speed and course. She turned around yesterday to begin deceleration, right on schedule, four days into her eight-day flight. I’m sure these guys,” he looked up at the other facilities in the giant wheel, “are tracking the ship even more precisely.” Kato nodded. All of this activity was for Zara, and for him. His heart could have burst from his chest.

  As Kato and Martin looked up above the clean room, following the floor in its upward curve, a short man with brown hair, parted on the left and combed over, seemed to appear in front of them from nowhere. He wore a tweed jacket over a white t-shirt. “Arvid.” He extended a hand.

  “Kato.” Kato shook.

  “The man himself,” Arvid said, turning to Martin, and sounding almost reverent. “Inventor of the warp drive.”

  Martin smiled, and looked at Arvid. “Perfecter only.”

  “Follow me,” Arvid said.

  The trio walked away from the clean room, towards a two-story office structure. Its utilitarian appearance of bare metal, with several external floodlights shining over the area they had been standing on, reminded Kato of the temporary cabins erected at construction sites. Arvid led them down a corridor that led straight back from the work floor, into the bowels of the building, and then left into a small conference room. It had a long, polished, faux wood table along the center. He closed the door behind them. “What time is it here?” Kato asked.

  “11:30 AM on Sunday morning,” Arvid replied. The three men remained standing in a small huddle, despite the scattered black mesh office chairs. “Listen, guys,” Arvid said seriously, “the crew dispatched to get the ablator blocks hasn’t come back. We know they made it to the surface. It was night when they got there. Communications have been out because of the electrical activity in the atmosphere caused by a massive dust storm.” Arvid paused and looked down. “They were due back three hours ago.”

  “Oh God,” Kato said, as his stomach lurched. Suffocating despair once again.

  Martin shook his head. “We can only pray.”

  “If we don’t get the ablators in the next hour, all bets are off,” Arvid said. “They’ve got to be cleaned down to the last molecule before they can be fitted, and that’s the main job holding up the overhaul.”

  Martin nodded. Arvid looked harassed. He shuffled. “I’ve got a ton to do, as you can imagine. There’s coffee through there”—he indicated a door at the end of the room—“so make yourselves at home.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Kato asked.

  “I’m afraid not, except from staying out of the way. We’ll arrange digs for you over at the hab when somebody gets a minute.”

  Martin nodded. “Right on.”

  “Helen?” Arvid said, obviously answering a call. He strode out of the room, as fast as his short legs would carry him, and turned right, back towards IIX. The urgent tones of Arvid’s voice diminished as he got further away.

  Kato sighed and made for the coffee. “Want some?”

  “Gimme.”

  Several minutes passed in silence, as steam rose from Styrofoam cups. Both men were lost in their thoughts. Then, reality crashed into them headlong. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS GOING ON?” a female English accent boomed, echoing through the entire facility. Kato and Martin looked at each other with wide eyes and, without a word, hurried back up the corridor and into the open. Everybody had frozen in mid activity and were looking up. Three hundred meters above, in a glass observation pod on the outside of the giant cylindrical airlock, was a figure.

  “Oh, God.” Lana’s voice was heard, somewhere off to the right. “Kirsti,” she said, a quiet determination in her voice, “come down. Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” the God-like voice replied. “Stop work immediately, or I’ll fire every last one of you.”

  “Kirsti, please. Come down, and let’s talk,” Lana pleaded, with a note of sadness this time. All eyes followed a cylindrical glass elevator, as it descended a clear tube towards them. It opened, and a schoolmarm-ish woman exited, wearing a sharp black skirt suit, her hair done up in a bun. Her nose was slightly hook like. She strode angrily towards Lana. Crap, Kato thought, as his last meal threatened to make itself known again.

  “H… how did you know?” Lana asked.

  “Having Gansevoort docked here for one,” Kirsti snarled. She was now a meter from Lana, as Kato and Martin looked on from further away. “And then we get called by the police, reporting a theft from MX9!” Kato’s heart did a little jump at the thought that the ablators had been successfully taken.

  “Kirsti, someone’s life is at stake!” Lana said. “We’re her only hope!”

  “We don’t have the budget for this! And now we’re facing criminal charges! Or at least, whoever is flying our ship is. One hundred ninety million orbs worth of iridium blocks. I’m putting a stop to this right now. I’m going to disable everyone’s access badges.” At that, Kirsti turned and strode towards the office.

  “Oh no!” Martin said, turning white.

  “No, you’re not!” Lana yelled. At that, she sprang at Kirsti and tackled her to the ground. Kirsti managed to flip over, push Lana back, and knee her in the stomach. Lana bent double. “Aaaaarruuughh.” She clutched her midsection, unable to breathe. Two high-heeled shoes, one from each woman, arced through the air. Kirsti, with her back to the floor, pushed Lana up, so she floated momentarily in the low gravity. Kirsti then crashed her right fist into Lana’s face. Blood bubbled from her nose, the droplets forming slow arcs as they headed to the floor. Lana fell back onto Kirsti, who then pushed the injured, breathless woman off herself, and tottered unsteadily to her feet. Kato and Martin stared, dumbstruck, as the furious Kirsti made towards them. Kato realized she was heading not for them, but for the office door, five meters to his right. Kirsti stopped, pulled her remaining shoe from her right foot, and threw it angrily into the distance. Kato looked back at the other combatant, who was curled on the floor, motionless, in the fetal position. Lana… He started towards her, to help. A shape rushed in from his left, charging directly at Kirsti as she walked towards the office. It was Arvid. Kato was behind Kirsti, and she had no clue that he was coming. Kato, in mid-stride towards Lana, stopped just in time to avoid being knocked off his feet. The charging Arvid sprang from the floor, and locked his arms and legs around Kirsti’s upper body. Both of them flew through the air from his momentum, and slammed to the ground, sliding until they hit the office wall. Kirsti’s head took the impact. She was knocked unconscious.

  “Boris, throw me some damn duct tape!�
� Arvid yelled. Kirsti was still firmly in his grasp. A thick, silver roll shot toward him from somewhere near the clean room door. Arvid caught it easily in his right hand, while his legs and left arm restrained the now limp woman. Arvid freed his left arm, and proceeded to run the tape round and round Kirsti, binding her arms to her sides. Kato snapped out of his shock at the utterly surreal scene, and looked around. Gaping, stunned faces all around, especially the clean room. Lana! He resumed rushing to her aid. Two others had beaten him to it. They had sat her upright, to allow the blood to exit her nose instead of being inhaled. It cascaded over her mouth and chin, turning her white blouse bright red. Lana turned to her left, and looked at Kirsti. “Get her to the med bay now! But, keep her there. Block comms from that section so she can’t call out.”

  “Yes ma’am,” one other, somewhat gray haired tech said. He started towards Kirsti, as Arvid held her sitting upright. He supported Kirsti’s head.

  “We’d better get you there too,” Martin said to Lana. Someone arrived clutching paper towels, which they gently pressed up to Lana’s nose.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “Everybody back to work! The spit’s already hit the fan. We’re up to our necks in it. Nothing we can do about it now. Let’s get this thing done!”

  “Kato! How the hell are ya, buddy?” Allen, IIX’s pilot said, hugging Kato and slapping him on the back. The two men stood in the ship’s circular bridge. Kato merely sighed, and looked at Allen. The man’s gray hair and aging face exuded wisdom and peace. “I just wish it were under better circumstances,” Kato said. Allen nodded.

  “There isn’t time for chit chat,” Wilson, IIX’s engineer said gruffly, half facing the other two, as he rushed over to his station at the rear of the ship’s bridge. One button press brought up a midair display in front of him. Wilson scanned its glowing controls, charts, and other readouts, in a few seconds. “All okay,” he muttered. “Aux power… ignition pulse…” He pressed several buttons in rapid succession. Some readouts changed, over a period of half a minute. “ZP source is online,” he announced to the other crew.

  “Everyone okay?” Karla, IIX’s young, pretty, olive-skinned physician asked, as she too made quickly for her seat.

  “Never better,” Elias, the captain grunted. He was standing at the front of the bridge, and looking intently at a midair display in front of him.

  Martin walked in from the open door on the right side of the bridge. “Where do I sit?” he asked Elias. Without looking up, the captain pointed to a seat on the left side of the open area.

  “Lift hookup complete,” an unidentified voice said, over a speaker in the bridge.

  “Water tanks are full,” Elias muttered.

  “Beginning warp systems check,” Wilson announced. A glowing progress bar began to creep along the top of his display. He squinted, watching it intently. His eyes occasionally darted to other readouts for a couple of seconds. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A 3D model of the Solar System appeared in the center of the bridge. It was roughly two meters wide. Allen turned around, and focused on it intently. All the planets were shown, of course; Earth in blue, Mars in red, Venus in green. Jupiter was a small reddish orange orb, quite a bit further from the yellow, glowing Sun than the others. A quarter of the way around the Sun from Jupiter, and nearly halfway around from Mars, was a tiny sand-colored dot. Ceres. Right next to it, on the sunward side, was a tiny cone. Above it was a label. It showed: Huo X-37-B. Also on the label was shown; Distance from Ceres: 567,009km, ETA: 4h 11m. The distance figure was dropping, even as Allen watched.

  Kato also watched the numbers. He became quiet. Martin followed his gaze. He touched Kato’s right arm. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

  “God, I hope so.” Kato turned to Martin. Fear was in his eyes. “We’ve come so far, but we’re now only at the starting line. What if she’s not on that ship, Martin? Or she’s already dead?”

  Martin’s brow furrowed, as he looked into Kato’s eyes. “We’ll get her, Kato. I’m sure of it.” Other crewmembers read off status checks, but Kato didn’t hear them.

  Martin appeared to suddenly remember something. “I’m gonna take my leave,” he said to no-one in particular. “Just gotta make a quick call.” Elias’ head snapped around. “No. Sit down and strap in. There’s no time.”

  Martin nodded and did as instructed. Once the belt had fastened itself around him, he looked off into the distance, and said: “Message to Kyle Hasselbacher. This is it, dude. IIX is ready to go and I’m along for the ride. I had no idea I’d be flying in this thing, and definitely not this soon. We’ve got about four hours to rescue her, or die trying.” He sighed, and then continued. “Everything’s been checked as thoroughly as it can be, but if something goes wrong… give my love to everyone, and tell them it’s been one heck of a ride. We will be in the news, whatever happens. End call.”

  Three people that neither Kato nor Martin recognized were also on board, and taking seats on the bridge, to the rear of the solar system display. “Hatch is closed,” Elias said. “Airlock control, begin the lift.”

  Chapter 33

  Lana looked up in awe, as the pistons that been supporting IIX retracted into the floor. The suspension cables now bore her weight. The clean room had been emptied of equipment, parts, and people. Its roof had long since been retracted to allow the ship to be lifted. IIX now rose slowly, towards the giant airlock at the center of the Space Engineering Facility. Lana, Arvid, and the 150 mostly white-suited technicians around them, looked fit to drop. They had worked tirelessly for three days. “Guys,” Lana said loudly enough to be heard by the small crowd, “we pulled off the near-impossible. Our jobs are now done. We did them well; as best we can tell until she actually flies, anyway.” Lana turned her gaze from the ascending ship to the gathered knot of people. “I honestly don’t know what the future holds for us all; our jobs, etcetera. But, let’s not think about that right now. The rescue will be over in a few hours. Go back to your units in the hab, chill, and keep your eyes on the TV.”

  Lana looked up again. IIX was disappearing into the football field-sized double fold access door, high above. “Godspeed,” she said. Lana kissed the tips of her right fore and index fingers, and held them up towards the departing ship in a gesture of salute. One by one the others did the same, until they were united in a show of silent solidarity. The airlock doors closed, and the spacecraft’s silver hull was visible no more.

  “Vacuum achieved,” the disembodied voice announced on board IIX. Airlock doors opening.” With a wave of his hand, Elias commanded the front wall of the bridge to turn clear. At first, only darkness was visible outside. Then, a hexagon began to open, showing the reddish-brown surface of Mars, far below. It expanded, until a large swath of the planet was visible. With a small burst from her close maneuvering thrusters, IIX proceeded out of the vast maw of the airlock. Kato marveled at the spectacular scene: the beauty of Mars’ mottled surface, and the haze of the atmosphere at the limb of the planet. It was visible all around except for the easternmost edge, where the shadow of night spread slowly across its face. Looking to his left, the dark metal circle of the SEF was visible, spinning slowly. Above and to the right of it was the spaceport where Kato and Martin had arrived. Both contrasted with the light gray, rock-blasted surface of Phobos. Gansevoort was long gone.

  IIX turned so that Mars was to the starboard side instead of straight on, and then Kato felt the kick in his rear that had become so familiar. The ZPR engines kicked in, illuminating Phobos with their great light, and speeding the ship forward. For now, the bridge was almost completely quiet, as everybody was completely focused on their stations and displays. Kato turned to Martin, who was seated to his right. “Here we go.” Martin nodded.

  For the next ten minutes, nobody said a word. Then Allen grumbled: “I wish to God we could have gotten f
ar away from Mars, both for safety and to recalibrate the gravitometers. There’s no way to recal in this strong of a gravitational field, especially on the fine detectors.”

  “I hear ya,” Wilson said. “I didn’t even bother trying. They’re still using the same settings from the last time. This is not good, since we dewarped in the middle of nowhere. We’ve just gotta hope they’re still good, else we could end up anywhere in the Solar System. Or even dewarp inside Mars, in which case we’re dead.” He turned to Allen. “How far away can we get before warping?”

  “We’ll go for about an hour,” the pilot replied. “At our maximum half a G, that’s roughly thirty-two thousand kilometers.” Allen turned to face Wilson. “Not exactly the hundred million K we should be standing off before we do this.”

  Elias turned around, having listened to the conversation. “My biggest fear isn’t going into warp, it’s coming out. We need those fine gravitometers to be able to control where we dewarp with any precision. To rendezvous with the X-37-B, it’s like hitting a pinhead from ten thousand K away.”

  Wilson nodded gravely. “This was always going to be the longest of long shots, so to speak. I…” he looked over at Kato, who was barely three meters away, and cut his next sentence short. He looked back at Elias. The two exchanged looks loaded with meaning, and then turned back to their workstations.

  Elias looked at the Solar System display. The label above Huo X-37-B read ETA: 2h 54m. He then looked over at Allen. “You… are… aware of how little time we have, right?”