Beyond Asimios: Book One

by Martin Fossum

  For a moment, they found interplanetary fame. They were the first couple to marry on Asimios, but once the initial media buzz fizzled (they were the subject of a pair of EarthNet human interest stories), they eagerly got back to work. Things were getting busier on Asimios. More and more people were arriving with each transport ship, and more and more demands were being placed on the growing station and its resources.

  Graf considered himself an even-handed director. He never thought that his way was the high way. He welcomed opposing views and made it a point that everyone was heard. With Graf at the helm, this semi-democratic decision process served the station well, but after he and Singh were married, his leadership began to draw scrutiny.

  Singh had enjoyed operating in the semi-autonomous university environment on Earth. She had been the head of her botany department and she was used to calling the shots. At Asimios Station, however, there was little room for this kind of independence. Equality and consensus (especially in the station’s early years) were ruling precepts on Asimios, and if you started pushing others around, you got pushback. Singh was aware of this, of course, but her chief executive instinct was often stronger than her will to capitulate. She rubbed some people the wrong way. Her “coziness” with Graf drew suspicion. It wasn’t long before Graf started to hear rumors suggesting that Singh might be influencing his judgment, and Graf found this troubling.

  Over time, the pressure on Graf began to build. Resentment had percolated around the Graf/Singh “block,” and Julie Singh felt a sense of betrayal by what she saw as Graf’s unfair attempts at appearing neutral. Yes, she did press him to move in certain directions when she felt it was necessary, but only when the most important issues were at stake. For Graf, however, it was a no-win situation. Over time something had to give, and to everyone’s surprise it was Julie who pulled back. The battle over the vision for terraforming Asimios had taken its toll on her and she withdrew. To spare Graf, she retreated to her lab and began focusing on research. She’d consult when needed, but she felt that it was the station’s best interest that she step aside and let others make the decisions.

  After a period of mild depression, a routine blood test revealed that Singh was suffering from a rare blood mutation. It was something that the medical facilities on Asimios weren’t equipped to treat. Dr. Berdinka, a first-order physician, developed a therapy protocol, but the experimental treatments were ineffective. Julie Singh died four days before the supply ship arrived to bring her to Mars.

  After Julie’s death Graf wrapped her body in cotton cloth and drove her 128 miles by crawler to a remote valley near Orpheus’s Rift, where alone, with the help of a task bot, he constructed a cairn over her body on a small hill that overlooked the chasm. She wanted to be exposed, she had told him during one of their last conversations. She didn’t want to be cremated or buried in the cold. She wanted to decompose and contribute the organic building blocks of the new Asimios.

  Graf stood on the hill above the rift in his pressure skin and laid one final stone on the cairn while uttering a brief invocation to the universal ear…then he said his goodbyes, and wept. They had been married just nearly three years. He wept for a long time there at the cairn, the bulky task bot slouched a few meters away and gazing blankly into the abyss. Julie had lived, Graf muttered through his tears. He had loved her and now she was gone.

  When Graf heard Dr. Berdinka’s voice telling him that she was removing his suture skin, he was moderately relieved to be alive, and he cringed as she peeled away the bandage. The blurry light of the clinic room came into focus.

  —Your left eye has the device now, she said, her soft form floating before him. This is to reduce trauma to your right eye’s optic nerve. It will take some getting used to, but I don’t think that is your biggest problem right now.

  Graf grunted as he tested his vision. He blinked a few times and his tear ducts purged. Dr. Berdinka handed him some tissue as he sat upright on the table. When he swept his hand to actuate the VI, only his BIOmeter and a few lines of broken information came up.

  —You can’t interface with the station anymore.

  Graf squinted as he examined the fuzzy contours of her face.

  —You’re on your own, she said.

  Graf grumbled and slid off the table to his feet. He was slightly dizzy and his vision was coming in and out of focus.

  —Can I ask a favor of you, Susanna? he said as his head lolled about his shoulders. Can you help me get to my office, er, I mean Halpern’s office? I’m expected there in about…

  He tried to estimate what time it was—no time stamp appeared on his VI—and he searched the walls of the clinic for a clock. He found one and squinted his eye at it.

  —Well, he said. I’m expected there about ten minutes ago. Could you please help me get there?

  —Yes, Dr. Graf. I’d be glad to help you.

  She took hold of his arm.

  —I have the old device in my shoulder bag, she added. This might serve as a suitable diversion.

  As they walked, they spoke freely about their shared history on Asimios, about their successes and regrets and about what closing down the station would mean to the people who had invested their lives in the project.

  —It’s troubling to see such waste, Susanna said as they made their way to the central tower and main administrative offices. You wonder if anything is really worth it in the end, she said.

  Graf grumbled.

  —I’ll have a career when I get back to Earth, she went on. But it won’t be the same. This place has affected me deeply.

  She pulled a little tighter on Graf’s arm, though affectionately, and she cleared her throat.

  —There are two things I’ll miss about Earth, Graf said.

  —Yes?

  —Walking outside without a pressure skin…and seeing the ocean.

  —Ah, yes, both wonderful experiences, Susanna said.

  They rode the elevator to the fifth floor and before long they were in front of Halpern’s office. They stood for a moment without speaking. Susanna then turned to Graf and wrapped him in her arms.

  —I have always loved you, Dr. Graf, she said. You will always be in my heart.

  With that she stood on her toes and gave him a peck on the lips. Then she hugged him again, turned and left and Graf stood there, eyes swollen and in pain, and watched her go. He then turned to the door and punched an icon and the door slid open. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  —Dr. Graf! Halpern said as he saw Graf enter his office. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.

  Graf sat down in one of his old chairs and cocked his brow at Halpern where the overseer sat behind Graf’s old desk.

  —Appears one of our sentry bots has gone missing, Halpern said as he moved his hand around to manipulate his VI. He looked over at Graf and paused. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?

  Graf rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  —Is this important, Austin? Graf shouted impatiently. If it isn’t, I’ve got plenty of better things to do than sit here and watch you play with yourself.

  —What happened to you, Avery? Halpern said as he took a closer look at Graf. You’re injured? Something wrong with your eye?

  —Had a run-in with the door, Graf said. It didn’t want to open as quickly as I wanted it to.

  —Well, Halpern said. You haven’t lost your sense of humor.

  Graf growled at this and then heaved a long sigh.

  —Why didn’t you tell us that you were going to torch the whole station? Graf said. There was never any indication that ESCOM was up to this. Why, Austin?

  Graf had inched forward as he spoke, but not by much, and Austin stood up and rounded the desk and then leaned up against it.

  —To be honest, Avery, Halpern said, I didn’t know about ESCOM’s intentions. I was as surprised as you were to get the news. I had nothing to do with it—all higher-ups and a last minute directive. They wanted everything leveled. “Asser
tive Disengagement” is how they termed it.

  Graf leaned a little farther forward and raised his eyebrows.

  —You know, you might not have been able to do anything about it, but that doesn’t make it right. It’s just that I feel kind of fucked right now and I’m trying to wrap my mind around what is about to happen.

  Graf pinned Austin with his rheumy eyes and began to stand.

  —Do you realize, Austin, he went on, the extent of research and work that has been going on here? Do you realize just what kind of sacrifices were made, both personal and professional, to get this station on its feet…to make this place an alternative to the hell going on back on Earth? Do you realize the human capital that this station represents and the dreams and ambitions that have contributed to make this fucking place possible?

  At this point Graf was up and he had moved forward to square off with Halpern. Graf was still a little shaky, but he stood tall and all Halpern could do was stay put and avoid appearing intimidated.

  —Okay, off the record, Avery, Halpern said as he folded his arms over his chest. Here’s the deal: ESCOM’s concerned that Excelsior Capital will start nosing around up here if we pull out. It’s preventative action. Destroy everything and Excelsior Cap doesn’t get their fingers in the jar. The final contingency is that the wormhole goes with it. The Tacitus III has a device. A quantum disruptor. It’s supposed to kick the thing straight back to infinity. If that fails, though, we’ve still flattened Asimios Station and left them with nothing.

  —Why get rid of the wormhole? I mean, here is probably one of the most fascinating pieces of science since Hawking discovered the black hole, and you want to wipe it out like it’s some poor student physics experiment?

  —There’s more to it, actually.

  —Yes? Graf said sarcastically.

  —There’s been some political pressure to seal up the wormhole—pressure from outside interests.

  Graf threw his hands in the air.

  —There is concern that we—Earth—might be in danger, Halpern said.

  —Danger from what?

  —I can’t tell you exactly why, right now. You’ll have to trust me.

  Graf was rubbing his temples at this point.

  —Trust you? You must be kidding.

  —I’m sorry, Avery.

  Graf leaned back on his heels and wrung his hands.

  —We could have achieved self-sustainability, Graf muttered. We were close. It was only a matter of time.

  —Without our supply chain this station would have been dead in the water.

  —You’re an ignoramus, Austin. You know why you’re an ignoramus? You’re defending the indefensible. You’re just another ESCOM thug.

  —This conversation is over. Get your things and prepare your staff for evac in three hours. Goodbye, Dr. Graf.

  When Halpern had finished speaking, the door to the office opened and two guards came in.

  —You know, Austin, Graf said. I just don’t get it. Twenty years putting this thing together, and I would have thought that you could have included me in the discussion. What a waste. What an incomprehensible waste.

  Graf finished talking. Then he roared with laughter.

  —I think this meeting is over! Halpern shouted. I’m sorry you’re disappointed.

  The guards moved in and Graf obliged them and left of his own accord.

  As Stelos Proxima’s golden halo emerged above the shadowy rim of Asimios, the Tacitus III swallowed three landers in its belly and then fired its pulse engines and slowly pulled away from synchronous orbit 100 km above Asimios Station.

  The security certificate was issued: all hands (both ESCOM agents and Asimios Station staff) were on-board. Tacitus III Captain, Kwan Sung Puck, verified the certificate and Austin Halpern gave the order to detonate all surface charges. In front of a console on the bridge, Halpern watched as the ordnance bursts commenced and began to rake over the dark landscape below—a fan of white purifying fire swollowed everything in its path. The operation concluded in less than two minutes and a short time later a giant cloud of soot and particulates dispersed to reveal a hard black scar where the station once stood.

  Satisfied, Halpern turned his attention to his next goal: eliminating the wormhole. It was two hours and forty-five minutes and counting before the Tacitus III would drop a comsat on this end of the wormhole; then, once they were in position the disruptor charge would be deposited at the center of the portal.

  The charge was larger than anything ever used, but physicists under ESCOM employ, many of whom were eager to see it succeed (they were also eager to observe the blast from Earth), agreed that a massive and turbulent explosion was needed to bend this type of space-time anomaly. They incorporated applied magnetic-vortex physics to create a magnetic pulse powerful enough to disrupt the vortex. It was the astrophysical equivalent to swiping your hand through the whirlpool in your tub at the end of a bath. The theory was that once the whirlpool was swept away, it wouldn’t return. This was the theory, at least. It was held that the wormhole was an artifact of some cosmic event—some past eddy created in the space-time fabric—and that a huge explosion would snuff the vortex out of existence.

  As they approached the wormhole, the Tacitus III dropped the comsat, then it slowed and released the disruptor—a cube-like payload nearly the size of a small lander. Once the payload was released the Tacitus III would achieve a 5,000 km separation and then detonate the device.

  As the Tacitus drifted through the wormhole, all eyes were glued to the bay cams as the object separated from the ship. Then the Tacitus III moved gently away from the disruptor and into its home solar system.

  Halpern paced the bridge.

  Captain Puck, a gray-haired veteran of the supply routes between Asimios and Earth, was stone-faced as he surveyed the data cascading down his VI and the info streaming over his nav-board.

  As the Tacitus III approached its demarcation of 5,000 km, the captain looked at Halpern and Halpern nodded. A flash of white flooded the screens and it took a moment or two for the resolution to adjust for contrast. Everything was quiet. After a few minutes the communications deck attempted to link with the comsat, but the uplink was dead. The bridge conducted different scans: infrared, radio, quantum, visual light. All were negative. By all appearances, the wormhole had been destroyed. A moment of excitement broke through the bridge, then Captain Puck ordered the Tacitus III to point toward Phobos, the Martian moon, and the gigantic ship lumbered toward its new coordinates and its eventual trip home to Earth.

  Halpern called the Asimios Station crew in for a conference. Everyone came except for Dr. Graf, and when Halpern inquired about the doctor’s whereabouts, Dr. Berdinka told him that he was sleeping off a hangover in her quarters. This didn’t amuse Halpern and he directed Dr. Berdinka to administer a coherence drug and drag him up to the room. When Dr. Berdinka refused, Halpern grew flummoxed.

  —That’s an order, he said to Dr. Berdinka.

  —You won’t find Dr. Graf in my quarters, she said. He’s not on the ship.

  —Is this a joke? What are you up to? Our security scans confirm it. Graf is aboard this ship.

  —Your security scans are picking up the signal from his old VI, which is in a suitcase in my room.

  —You are joking.

  —Dr. Graf stayed behind, Dr. Berdinka said. He’s on Asimios.

  —Impossible.

  After a pair of security guards searched Dr. Berdinka’s quarters, they returned with a small box containing Graf’s old VI implant. It was wired to a power cell and active. Dr. Berdinka informed Halpern of Graf’s plot and Halpern had Dr. Berdinka and Paul arrested and confined to their quarters.

  Halpern didn’t feel vindictive. They wouldn’t be punished. After he was alone, Halpern stayed and mused over the dark space that had enveloped the wormhole. Graf, his friend and colleague, was gone forever. They would never speak again. A cold lump sat in Austin Halpern’s throat as he leaned back and closed his eyes. He broug
ht his fist down hard on the table so that it shook.

  As Avery Graf left Halpern’s office, he was red with rage. He wanted nothing to do with the old turncoat and he wanted nothing to do with ESCOM or any of the authoritarian mandates that oozed down from a soulless cult of ill-informed board members. As he got farther away from Halpern, Graf’s thoughts switched to existential matters.

  According to plan, Graf headed directly for the bio-dome. He thought of a few things he wanted to do before his last hours alive. He wished he had time for a tenderloin steak dinner with asparagus and a bottle of Pinot noir. He also craved one last viewing of an old Ubdel Perkovsky film…The Last Man on Mars, perhaps? But these were whims—loose diversions to steer his thoughts from reality.

  As he came to the bio-dome, he synchronized his VI clock with a clock on an entry panel, then he went through the doors and was met by a wall of hot, sticky air. He made his way down the central path, birds raising alarm and darting from tree to tree as he made his way. A little way down the path, he stepped off and cut over to the hot spring that gurgled up from a volcanic source hundreds of meters beneath the surface.

  He felt around on the ground, beneath the brush, until he found where he had stashed a pressure skin. He removed his clothes and threw them to the side. He pulled the pressure skin on, pulling the tight fabric over his thick legs and torso, and then up and over his arms and neck. He pulled the hood over his head and then he drew down his visor. He slipped into the hot water. He held his breath, although not required, until he was comfortably adjusted beneath the surface. He could disappear here, vanish undetected by infrared scanners and organic scanners (the entire dome was alive). He could also get a visual of lander liftoffs. It was just a matter of lying in this steaming water until the coast was clear.

  A little under three hours had passed when Graf saw the first lander’s pulse engines fire blue and light up the dome glass as it lifted off the surface of Asimios. Then the second lander took off, its engines glowing cobalt as the huge hunk of metal rose above the planet. Graf began breathing hard. His BIOmeter spiked. There were only three landers leaving the station tonight, he said to himself. When the third took off, that would be his cue to start moving. After what seemed like an eternity, Graf got a visual of the last lander as its massive bulk hurtled into the air on a line for the Tacitus III.