by Corey Ostman
“Would it explain why Mazz didn’t up and walk out with the others?” Raj hoped that was a diplomatic question.
Richard didn’t seem to take offense. “No, but that’s easy. Mazz is off the grid. No shared data, unlike the rest.”
“Is that normal?” Grace asked. She’d already strapped herself into a seat. “I thought twofers were always connected.”
“Well,” Richard replied, “Mazz does share data with one other system. Different bandwidth. The Scout.”
“That would explain its capabilities,” Raj said. “Twofers are autonomous, but not problem solvers. I watched Mazz replace a section of conduit with one that didn’t quite match. It went back and forth to engineering, making minor changes until the repair was correct.”
Richard nodded.
“Mazz is a brute, too. I saw it lift cargo that would have put quite a strain on a dock loader,” Raj added.
“It’s nice talking to somebody with an appreciation of robots,” Richard said. “Unlike modern, specialized twofers, Mazz was built with multiplicity of use in mind,” Richard said.
“It’s an old style, then?” Raj asked. “How did you get Mazz? Did you build it yourself?”
Richard smiled. “Raj, Mazz is Robot Zero. The first near-AI sent to Mars. Solo mission. It arrived two years before the first colonists so that it would be ready to assist in building and repair. It wasn’t Mazz then, but it’s Mazz now. My grandfather salvaged it. Made alterations. And my father added his own improvements. I’ve modified Mazz quite a bit, myself.”
“You mean Mars Advance Humanoid Scout Zero? I learned about it in school!” Raj exclaimed. “M-A-H-S-Z. Huh. Mazz!”
“I guess if it weren’t for clever acronyms and jargon, science and technology would be a little dull,” Grace quipped.
“Facilitating the important things we need to do is never dull—” Richard began.
“Time to head out,” Wragg said, forestalling any argument. “Everyone strap in.”
There was a brief scramble for seats. Richard helped Yvette and secured himself up front, next to Wragg. Raj sat down beside Yvette, with Grace on the other side. Tim was in the back.
“For those who are new to this, we’ll first make our way down the tube to Lock Two,” Wragg said. He pointed to a dark gray slab a few kilometers ahead. “Then to the southern fossae that lead away from Elysium.”
“Fossae?” Grace asked from behind him.
“Trenches. The canyons on Mars,” Richard said. “We use them to funnel traffic entering or leaving the major domes.”
“Why not just increase altitude immediately and get out of the way?” Raj asked.
“The trenches offer excellent shelter from the sandstorms,” Richard said, “And we’re still not good at predicting them.”
“Starting engines now,” said Wragg.
Raj felt his body press into the seat as the cruiser lifted off the ground. They approached a massive airlock. What had appeared as a featureless gray slab was actually two thick metarm doors that rode on a track into deep pockets in the exit tube. The doors remained closed as they approached.
“They’ll open soon.” Wragg must have sensed Raj’s trepidation. “Just need final clearance for us to enter the lock. We should be outside in twenty minutes.”
Wragg pressed a comm switch.
“Control, this is the Scout. Waiting for clearance.”
There was a pause and a hesitant voice sounded through the bridge.
“Uh, ok. Right. You’re cleared for the lock,” the voice said. “When we send the code and you detach, get in the clear as quickly and as safely as you can. Not everyone is on their best behavior today.”
Raj swallowed.
The airlock doors began to open. Wragg navigated the Scout gently into the lock.
“It looks like only a few meters of clearance,” Grace said.
Wragg said nothing, too busy piloting the cruiser and watching the displays. He brought the Scout to a halt inside the lock.
Raj glanced at a nearby sensor. The pressure of the air outside the ship read 99.0 KPa.
A thunderous sound echoed around them.
“The lock is closed,” Richard said.
The forward viewport showed them entombed in the gray, red-streaked walls of the lock. As Raj looked back at the sensor, its reading dropped rapidly. The hull intermittently popped, and Raj flinched every time. The sensor finally slowed at 0.7 KPa.
“Should be free soon,” said Wragg.
With a flash of green lights and the groan of metal, the exterior airlock doors yawned open. Raj saw the orange landscape of Mars beyond: a flat plateau, transitioning into a long, narrow canyon. In the distance, the engines of two cruisers could be seen against a speckled cinnamon sky.
Wragg nudged the controls and the Scout was free.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a sky like that,” said Grace.
“The sky is redder than usual,” Yvette said. “Because of that dust storm we had.”
“What color is it usually?” Raj asked.
Yvette thought for a moment. “Less red.”
They flew in silence, crossing the plateau and entering the canyon. Raj watched as tendrils of sand slid down the canyon walls, their tips dissipating into small orange cyclones.
“A lot of sand,” Raj murmured.
“You won’t see much more than that for the next few days,” Richard said.
Much more than this? Raj thought. This is like staring at an hourglass. I could watch this forever.
Not everyone agreed with him, though. After a few minutes, he heard Yvette shuffling at his side.
“After we leave this fossa, I’m going to my cabin,” Yvette said. “Want to come? We can sort wires based on their copper content.”
I can’t decide which toy she likes better—me, Quint, or the PodPooch. “Sure, sweetie. When will that be?”
“We have to stay strapped in for about an hour. I remember the last time we went through.”
“Why are we strapped in now, and not later? Is it more dangerous in a fossa?”
“Not really, no, but a lot of ships use it. See those?”
Yvette pointed up, where the sky was visible beyond the ridge. Higher in the sky, a group of ships glinted in the sun.
“Weren’t there only two ships when we launched?” Raj asked.
“Ships where?” Wragg snapped.
“Up ahead. See? The third one? I think it’s coming in.”
Wragg looked and immediately burst into action. “TZ-422, adjust your course zee plus one hundred meters, repeat zee plus one hundred meters,” Wragg said into the comm. He sounded calm, but his fingers flew over his console.
They continued ahead, Wragg pitching the Scout higher to slow its velocity.
“Dammit,” Wragg said. “That stupid craft doesn’t see us!”
Raj felt detached, unable to help, watching everything as though it were happening to someone else. The small cruiser continued coming toward them. Wragg was swearing and trying to gain altitude, but the low forward velocity of the Scout meant that rapid changes were difficult. Maneuvering thrusters worked well in zero grav, but had a noticeable lag in the gravity well of a planet.
Richard shouted. “Wragg, the ship is going to—!”
The craft hit the hull of the Scout, somewhere below on the starboard side. Instantly, the cruiser pitched to port. Within seconds it was at a forty-five degree angle and spinning. Raj pressed against his restraining straps.
“Poppy! That ship hit us! Poppy!”
Raj turned toward Yvette just as the child’s buckle clicked free. Her fear overruled her limited knowledge of physics as she tried to scramble toward her father.
“Yvette!” Richard yelled, reaching for his belt. Raj flung out his metarm hand to keep Richard in his seat. If he unbuckled himself, he’d be another flying object.
Beginning to realize her danger, Yvette turned back to grab her belt strap, but the buckle hit her hand and she lost he
r grip. She grabbed at the arm of the seat, but her small fingers flew off. Her body pivoted and she accelerated toward port.
The cruiser pitched further, and that was when Raj saw Grace. Like a phasewave shot, she was out of her seat, her academy training keen in her balance. She reached out a hand, barely catching the girl by the wrist. Grace was moving back to her seat when the Scout impacted the wall of the fossa, and they were plunged into darkness.
The ship shuddered as it settled: scraping metal and the hiss of sand. Raj shifted, his body straining against the straps. They were sideways, or nearly so. He felt the beginnings of bruises in his chest and arms.
“Tim?” He sent the message through his gray grafty.
“We crashed,” said Tim.
“And you’re alive. Thank you.”
Raj batted on his darkvision lids and strained to look around. Where was Grace?
“Tim? Can you see Grace?”
“Over here. I’ve got her,” Grace announced in the darkness.
“Yvette? Are you ok?” Richard’s voice.
“I’m ok,” came a tremulous reply.
“Hang on, everybody,” Wragg said.
The cruiser went still. Moments later, the lights returned. Raj looked around. They remained at an awkward angle. Grace was atop the side of a seat, holding Yvette in her arms. Yvette’s eyes were wide with shock, and she clung to Grace with whitened knuckles.
“The sensors show the hull is intact, but we’ll need to visually check the exterior before we continue,” Wragg said. He glanced quickly around the cabin. “Prepare for a lurch.”
Wragg moved the controls, leveling the ship with less of a lurch than a tumble and skid, bringing the Scout down to the bottom of the fossa.
As soon as they touched down, Richard sprang from his seat and scooped Yvette into his arms. The girl wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. Grace stood, carefully stretching, testing for injuries.
“Fast, Grace—and daring,” Raj said, with a smile. “As usual.”
“Thank you, Grace,” Richard said, then turned a stern look to his daughter. “Yvette, don’t you ever remove your belt again.”
Yvette looked away from her father and rubbed her wrist.
“Is that bothering you?” Raj asked, unbuckling his belt.
She nodded feebly.
Raj gently took Yvette’s hand. He felt her wrist, bending it slowly. Yvette, to her credit, said little. She just watched him work with large blue eyes.
Raj smiled, standing back. “No fractures, Yvette. But you should rest your hand for a day or two. I can wrap the wrist.”
“Ok,” she said in a small voice.
“Now to see if the Scout is sound, as well,” Wragg said, unbuckling his belt and heading off the bridge.
Richard swiveled his display to face the others. With a few swipes of his hand, six exterior views of the Scout materialized.
“Where were we hit?” asked Grace, walking up to Richard.
“Not sure,” said Richard, peering from one hull image to another. “The sand makes everything difficult to see. Wragg will find it.”
Raj pulled a medical kit out from under his seat and began to wrap Yvette’s wrist. They watched as a pressure-suited Wragg emerged from the airlock, his tether oscillating in the wind. Wragg walked along the starboard side, pausing and wiping his hand across the hull. At one point he stopped, bringing his helmet in close.
“That must be where we were hit,” Richard murmured.
“Strange. I expected it to be bigger,” said Grace. “More obvious.”
Richard turned to look at her. “If it were, we’d be sealed in the bridge and everyone in the engine room would be dead.”
Raj blinked. “So that’s why Yvette stays on the bridge.”
“That’s right.” Richard said. “You can’t breathe out there. Never forget that.”
They watched the rest of the inspection in silence. Wragg appeared in another view as he doubled back along the bow. Then the port side. Finally he disappeared, and the airlock warning sounded.
When Wragg returned to the bridge, Raj had finished Yvette’s wrap and she was sitting in Richard’s lap. Grace sat by Tim, her hand lost in his fur. Wragg still wore his pressure suit, which was now covered in a patina of dust. He sat and removed his helmet.
“We were lucky,” Wragg said. “Everyone in the engine room is all right. Outside, superficial scratches. I was worried we’d have to head back to Elysium.”
“And the ship that hit us?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know. They kept going.” He shook his head with a bitter expression. “I think humankind has devolved. The twofers did everything for us for too long.”
Wragg turned to Richard and Yvette.
“And how’s the little lady?” Wragg said, touching the child’s head with a gloved hand.
“I’ll never remove my belt again,” Yvette said.
“Good girl.”
“Will we need any repairs?” asked Richard.
“Minimal, as far as I can tell. We can re-evaluate later, when we’re out of the fossa.”
“Wait, you mean we can just fly away?” Raj asked.
“Absolutely,” said Wragg. “This isn’t the first time someone has grazed the Scout. She’s a tough old girl.” A fond pat for the console. “Once Hobbs gives us the green light, we’ll be off.”
“And God grant that’s the last of these incidents.” Richard shuddered. “When we’re ready, Wragg, get us out and away from the main channels. I’ll adjust the navigation.”
“Will do.”
Wragg turned from Yvette to Grace. He considered her for a moment. Grace gazed back. She was never one to look away.
“We run two watches on the Scout,” said Wragg. “I’ve got the first. Usually Mazz has the second. But I’d like to give you that duty. If you’d accept.”
Raj raised his eyebrows. There was a thread of respect emanating from Wragg to Grace. Her quick reflexes had gained her an ally.
“Why not Hobbs or one of the techs?” Grace asked.
“Normally, I would. But I have a feeling that you’d move and think faster than all my crew put together.”
“She does,” Raj smiled.
“I’d be happy to, Captain,” said Grace. She was grinning.
“Once Richard adjusts the navigation,” Wragg said, “you’ll just need to keep an eye on the tactical. Report for duty in ten hours.”
“Aye, sir.”
Chapter 9
“Umm, Protector Donner?”
It was two hours into her watch. Grace pulled her gaze away from the main viewport and the vast expanse of the Elysium plains, swiveling her seat to face the bulkhead. The orange of the planet still tugged in her peripheral vision.
Alan Nutter hesitated at the door. He was painfully thin and slightly shorter than Grace. He ran fingers through his greasy brown hair, his eyes scanning the bridge.
“What is it, Nutter?”
The assistant engineer took a step forward.
“Mr. Hobbs thought it would be best not to disturb Captain Wragg on his watch. He suggested that we, umm—”
“Complete our comm checklist while you were on duty instead.” Quint poked his head through the entrance, grinning.
Grace shrugged. “Sure, no problem. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Nutter motioned for Quint to follow. They passed Grace and stopped before a panel to the left of the viewport.
“Help me with this, Brown,” Nutter said, grabbing two handholds at the top of the panel. “You pull the lower ones. On three, ok? One, two, three!”
The two men tugged. The panel whined, popped, and finally broke free.
“Turn the panel on its side and stow it beneath the viewport.”
Grace rose and stretched—it felt wonderful after two hours—and walked over to the boys.
“What do you have to do?”
“Um—” Nutter began.
“It’s fairly easy,” Quint interjected. “We
just have to make sure we’re in contact with the one-fifty-east station. They broadcast a diagnostic. If we receive it and it checks out, we can sign off on the comm checklist.”
“Ah, I see.”
Grace watched them work for a bit, then stepped to the right and resumed staring out the viewport. They were some thirty meters above the surface. High enough to avoid any wayward escarpments, low enough to see all the details. She noted a small crater to port and glanced at the nav display. It was unnamed, just a notation: 159E-442. How many places are unnamed on Earth? she mused.
“Jeez,” Quint said. “There’s too many points.”
Grace looked back at the techs. Nutter was fingering a keypad while Quint entered notes on his ptenda.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to have Mazz do this?” Grace asked, mildly irritated at the interruption in her shift.
“New world,” Quint said. “The tin man may be the last working twofer. Folks better get used to doing this for themselves.”
Nutter glared at Quint. “Quit the sermon, Brown. Keep up.”
She caught Quint’s fleeting smirk as he returned to the task. “Sorry,” he said.
So Nutter wasn’t as keen as Quint on the capabilities of humanity. She wondered if that was because he was Martian, unlike his junior tech.
“Where you from, Nutter?” Grace said.
“My family’s originally from Albor Dome.”
“All Martian?”
“Five generations! My family was one of the original founders of Albor,” said Nutter proudly, his shyness forgotten. “But I had a tough time finding work there last year, so I moved to Elysium.” He laughed. “Tough finding work there, too, until all the twofers left. Now I’ve been in demand the past three weeks.”
Nutter chattered on about his various jobs as he worked. Grace returned to her seat, her gaze wandering to the flat, orange plain outside.
“It didn’t take long to crack that nut.” Tim’s voice in her dermal dot.
She looked at the portside seat. Tim Trouncer lay curled on his cushion. He sent her a grin and a wink. A disconcerting look for a PodPooch, or any dog. She turned to make sure the techs hadn’t seen, but they were deep into their twofer discussion again.
“Look at all the jobs you’d have gotten back at Albor. It’s a good thing, I tell you,” said Quint.