by Corey Ostman
“Right shoulder was busted by the damn PodPooch,” Quint said. “He got my leg, too.”
“You will receive medical attention later. Move away from the squirt.”
The metal contraption was nothing if not polite, Quint thought. Men needed one less polite robot.
“How did you defeat Nutter’s tasker?” Quint asked.
“I did not. The tasker told me to stay here.”
Quint’s right hand moved slowly toward the phasewave in his belt. His fingers wrapped around the grip while his thumb disabled the safety and increased power.
The ship lurched to the right. Quint shifted his weight, keeping himself vertical. A loud squeal and shudder from far forward hit the ship. A klaxon sprang to life. The ion engines had reached their limit and were shutting down. An avalanche of sound roared toward the engine room as the belly of the Scout dove into escarpment.
Quint felt his feet slide as the ship fell. He didn’t mind if he fell forward or back. Either would give him a clear shot at Mazz.
Quint squeezed off a shot just as he landed on his right side. He saw the air distort around Mazz and small electrical arcs wink in and out around its head.
Mazz toppled over.
Quint laughed, shaking with adrenaline and pain. Then he turned to the squirt and opened the hatch. In the red light of the interior, he saw the handholds on either side. He pulled himself forward, biting his tongue as his leg banged against the edge. A few more grips brought his face in front of the command screen.
He blinked through the menus and sealed the squirt. As the countdown chime began, Quint released the worm.
• • •
Grace watched Jameson and Jackson lean in close to the aft display. The bridge of the Scout filled the entire viewscreen. It looked empty.
“She’s stopped,” Jackson said. She glanced at tactical. “And her engines have scrammed—you’ll need a cold start. She won’t be going anywhere. I’ll bring us up and attach to the upper airlock.”
Finally, Grace thought. She unsnapped her belt.
“Wait for us to dock, Protector Donner,” said Jameson without turning around. “When the umbilicals connect, you’ll see position data for everyone aboard—as long as they’re wearing their ptendas.”
Grace liked the sound of that. They needed that tech back in Port Casper. All the positioning data, going into a blind bang? It would triple protector effectiveness.
Captain Jackson brought the ship directly on top of the Scout. A loud click sounded, followed by a low hum as the umbilicals attached. Wragg got out of his seat and opened an airlock in the floor behind them.
The Scout’s ptendas sprang to life on Grace’s ptenda screen. Nutter was on the bridge—hiding? Raj and Hobbs in a locker. Anna and Yvette in Grace’s cabin, the door locked from within. Good. And there was Quint in the engine room.
Grace walked over to Wragg and the airlock. “Quint’s in the engine room.”
Wragg shrugged. “With the engines offline, I guess he could vandalize equipment, but—”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. I’m off,” she said, dropping into the airlock.
“Grace!”
She climbed down to the Scout. The hatch on the other side was too cold to touch. Grace pulled her sleeve over her right hand and spun the wheel, her fingers complaining. The hatch opened and the central ladder loomed directly beneath her. She proceeded to the deck below. Clanging on the rungs above told her that the others had followed.
Nutter was unconscious on the bridge. She cuffed him to a chair and left, following the klaxon down the ladder to the engine room.
The engine room’s door was unsealed. Grace scanned the room, Marty ready in her hand. Even in shutdown, the ion drives were wreaking havoc with Marty’s infrared scanner. But she was seeing some spurious activity by the engines.
She stepped inside and sealed the bulkhead behind her. Quint was isolated now—he couldn’t hurt the crew. Grace followed the infrared ping deeper into the room. A cold shape lay on the deck. Grace knelt beside it. Mazz. Mazz is down.
She looked up, at the wall ahead of her. It was a line of squirts—Martian-style escape pods.
The center unit was in countdown.
Five.
Quint!
Four.
He must have found his ptenda.
Three.
Grace’s fingers flew to her ptenda.
Two.
Damn. Can’t override. I’m not the captain.
One.
One choice.
Grace raised Marty and fired. She hit the squirt’s hatch and it cracked. Air screeched as it whipped through the fissures, peeling off small and then large chunks of the hatch. Grace felt the pressure in her ears as the air left the engine room.
There was a brilliant white light that pierced through the cracks. As the hatch dissolved and was pulled into the launch tube, Grace saw the squirt exit the Scout.
She fired Marty a second time.
Her lungs burned, her ears ached, and she realized that she could hear very little. Actually, nothing at all. The alarm lamps winked at her, but the klaxon had cried its last.
This, she thought, might be bad.
Dust swirled around her and she brought her hands up to her face.
Chapter 22
Richard tugged gently on Yvette’s arm. His child was centimeters from Grace Donner’s face. He pulled her away and whispered into her ear.
“Quiet. She needs her sleep.”
Yvette waved him off. She climbed back into the bed. The PodPooch at Grace’s feet shifted, but didn’t wake. The little girl laid her small hand on Grace’s chest and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Richard had thought the bruised, mottled skin would have frightened her. But as always, Yvette proved herself stronger than his expectations. His bold child, who had climbed the ventilation shafts and brought Nutter down. Who had sent the help message. He smiled at her, blinking tears from his eyes.
“Please wake up,” Yvette whispered.
Richard looked at Grace, her rescue replaying in his mind. They had detected the breach while still aboard the Gusev interceptor. The safeties activated immediately, sealing the bulkhead of the engine room, but Grace had been in Mars atmosphere for seventy seconds. She looked horrific when Wragg carried her out. Unconscious. Bruises across her face and arms. A swollen tongue. One open, bloodshot eye.
“Nnnnn.”
“What did she say, Poppy?”
“What?”
Richard shook himself back to the present. He saw Grace toss her head from side to side. Her lips worked hard, first a pucker and then a circle. Not enough breath to articulate words.
Yvette crawled closer and put her ear near Grace’s lips.
“Quint Brown,” Yvette said, sitting back. “She said ‘Quint Brown.’”
“His squirt exploded, Grace,” Richard said.
Grace tossed her head. She’s dreaming, Richard thought.
“Don’t worry, Grace. I’ll protect you,” Yvette said.
Richard stroked Yvette’s hair. “Do you want to stay with Grace?” he asked, changing his mind.
Yvette’s smile was answer enough.
“Ok. I’ll be next door in our cabin,” he said. “Don’t wake her up. Please try to be quiet.”
“Promise,” she said.
Richard kissed his daughter on the top of her head before leaving. He was heading to his cabin when Wragg approached from the bridge.
“How’s Protector Donner?” Wragg asked.
“Resting. Dreaming, actually.”
“Good,” Wragg said, his eyes lingering on Grace’s door. The captain had soundly cursed her folly in running ahead to capture Quint, but Richard knew his friend admired her all the same.
“I’ve just finished with Hobbs,” continued Wragg. “He thinks we can be underway at first light tomorrow. The team from Gusev just finished the exterior work.”
“Excellent, Captain,” Richard said, then noticed the deep frown in Wragg’
s face. “What is it?”
“Well, we’ll make good time in the Ma’adim Vallis. That’s for sure. But what’s after that?” Wragg said.
“What do you mean? You’ve got the nav.”
Wragg shook his head. “No, sir. Nav has been wiped clean. Something’s trampled on our systems.”
Richard opened the door to his cabin. “Show me.”
They stepped into the cabin and Wragg sat down at the table, calling up the nav display.
“Look at this,” Wragg said, waving to the screen. “See what I mean?”
Richard sat down, stunned. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The display showed their real-time position, parked just outside Gusev Base, but all their previous tracks, plus the course to the south pole, had vanished. Some helpful vectors to the Ma’adim Vallis flashed at the edge of the display.
“What happened? The collision? Some sort of EM pulse?”
“I don’t think so,” said Wragg. “A complete wipe? This is a worm. When I enter a few test routes, something wriggles through and wipes it clean again. Hobbs is going to have to restart the system from scratch.”
“How did we get it?”
Wragg looked meaningfully at Richard. “How else? Brown. Or Nutter, but I’d bet on Brown. We weren’t in contact with anyone or anything else.”
“The woman we rescued. Anna?”
Wragg shook his head. “Not likely. She wouldn’t have had time to create the worm from scratch while aboard.”
Richard sat back in his chair. “How badly does this hurt us? Can we get a download from Gusev?” Richard said.
“I’ve never been further south than Campbell,” Wragg said, poking the display with a scarred finger.
Richard sighed. He looked at his bookcase, at the atlases there. It would take time to plot a new course. He stood to take an atlas down, then paused. Something was missing. He reached out to a shelf and his fingers shook.
“It’s gone,” Richard said. “Quint’s ptenda is gone.”
“I thought Grace had it,” Wragg said, standing.
Richard pointed to the bookcase. “She gave it to me for safekeeping. I kept it there.”
“Kid must have grabbed it before he left,” Wragg said. “Whatever was on it has been blown to bits.”
“Our nav data?”
“Probably,” Wragg admitted. “Though why he wanted it is beyond me. Was he afraid we’d follow him?”
Richard frowned. The navigation infodocs were their only key to the Essex. Without them, he’d have no way of locating his grandfather’s ship.
Richard’s thoughts were interrupted by small feet running into the cabin.
“Poppy, Grace is awake!”
Richard and Wragg followed Yvette next door. Grace was sitting up in the bed with Tim Trouncer in her lap.
“How long?” Grace asked, rubbing her eyes.
“About seven hours,” Wragg said. “Not long.”
Grace looked around the cabin.
“Raj. The rest?”
Richard sat at the edge of the bed. “Raj and Anna are fixing Mazz.”
“Oh. Forgot about Mazz.”
“Mazz got fried!” said Yvette. “But Doctor Raj can fix him. He said so.”
Grace started to speak, then winced and reached for her throat. “I feel like a mud baked road in Cloister 11.”
“Here.” Wragg appeared with a cup of water, which Grace gulped with a grateful look.
“We’ve got to go after Quint,” she said after lowering the cup.
“Don’t worry about Brown,” Wragg said. “His squirt exploded a kilometer out.”
“Oh,” Grace whispered as her head sank back into a pillow. “Good. I’ll…fill out the paperwork later.”
“It’s not all good news,” Richard said. “We think Quint wiped our nav. We don’t have the course to the Essex anymore. What’s worse, there’s still something destructive in the system that is keeping us from entering any new routes. Hobbs will have to wipe everything.”
Richard was surprised to see Grace smile. When she let out a hoarse laugh, Wragg and Richard looked at each other.
“What’s the joke?” asked Wragg.
“Two points,” she croaked. “First, Quint might have wiped our nav, but he would have made a copy. He took his ptenda, right?”
Richard blinked. “Yes…”
Grace grinned. “Then my second point applies.” She tapped the ptenda on her wrist. “I’m a trained spy and a card-carrying snoop, gentlemen. I entangled his ptenda with mine when I confiscated it. If his ptenda survived, well, you know. You can thank me after I’ve eaten.” She snuggled back into her pillow.
Richard smiled. “So if he grabbed our nav—you have a copy?”
“Bacon and eggs. Biscuits. And…umm…coffee,” Grace murmured.
• • •
Raj prodded Mazz. The eyes were lifeless. The mouth was frozen, horizontal, and rigid. The wire frame was blackened in places and strands of ribbon interconnects dangled. So much needed replacing.
“Well?” A little face materialized on his ptenda.
“Yeah, I think I can fix Mazz,” he said.
Yvette whooped and the tiny screen went dark.
Raj chuckled and stood, stretching. His back cracked. He had knelt for too long.
“Wait, wait—don’t touch your clothes. Let me get that off,” Anna said, swooping down on him.
“Get what off?” Raj asked, confused.
“Your fingers.”
“You want my fingers off?”
Anna huffed and produced a clean cloth. She wiped his fingers until the cloth was black with carbonized robot.
“Oh,” Raj said. “Heh. Wouldn’t have wanted Mazz’s entrails on my jumpsuit.”
“Among other things,” Anna said, surveying the marks on his clothes. “Would you like some help?”
“Who am I to say no to an engineer?” He grinned. “But it’ll take some time. Sure you’re up for it? Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted—”
“How long?”
Raj rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Maybe eight—er, ten hours.”
“Is that all?” she asked with a smile.
Raj laughed. “All right. Let’s lift Mazz onto the table, then.”
He moved behind Mazz’s head, and placed his hands beneath the torso. Anna grabbed the thighs and together they lifted the robot.
Raj knew at once they couldn’t have done this on Earth. As it was, his muscles screamed. One hundred kilograms, his left arm estimated. He managed to get Mazz’s left shoulder on the table and he shifted to the trunk, sliding the torso.
“It’s slipping—” Anna began.
Raj scooted next to Anna and helped with the legs. With one final effort they heaved Mazz onto the table.
“Thanks,” Raj said, slightly out of breath. “I’m glad we only have to repair one robot.”
Anna smiled. “Twofers are heavy. But the way you’re itching to dig into Mazz—I think if we had fifty of you, we’d fix all the twofers in a matter of days.”
Raj laughed. “I’m not that good.”
“Who needs good? Tenacious is more important than good.”
Raj considered, then nodded. “True.”
Anna rummaged through the tools on the table. “Is this all we have?”
“Hobbs went to get more.”
“How’re his knees?”
“The mechflesh is healing. He’s lucky he had them replaced. The impact would have shattered a normal knee.”
“I told you he was a killer,” said Anna, her voice low. “I wish you would’ve believed me.”
“We took you seriously, Anna, but even you didn’t know for sure,” said Raj.
Anna sighed. Raj hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling.
“Anna, are you—”
“It’s ok,” she said, shrugging him off. “I bounce back. I always do. Just need to do something. Fix this twofer. Run engine checks. Go south.” She began grouping same-colored circuitry t
ogether in Mazz’s torso.
“Life is so different down there, in the south,” Anna continued. “The engineer in me wants to see how people live in such a harsh environment. And the thought of finding that lost ship? The Essex? I’d feel like a treasure hunter, in a good way.”
“Me, too,” Raj said. He began to unscrew Mazz’s leg plates. “I also hope we come across a rogue twofer as we head south. I want to see this malfunction close up.”
“We might see one earlier than you think,” Anna said. “Have you checked your fact agents? They’ve spread out. Instead of being all grouped together, they are now following a branching pattern down the Spine. About a robot every kilometer or so.”
“The spine?”
“Solen’s Spine. You know—Steph Solen, one of the early Italitech-Tharsis colonists? They landed in the west, but he made a fortune in the east running a north-south route for a few decades. Roughly the route we’re taking,” Anna said. “He made it the main north-south route from the major domes of Elysium Planitia to the south.”
Raj imagined a ragged line of robots stretching down a meridian. With a kilometer between each node, the mesh wasn’t very dense. Even so, how many robots would it take?
“That would be thousands,” Raj said. “Why?”
Anna shrugged. “Nobody knows.”
They both jumped at a loud clang followed by a curse. Hobbs limped in, carrying a large toolbox.
“Here,” Hobbs said. “And don’t take too long with ‘em. I’ve got to get back to repairs—what with Nutter gone. I’d have thrown the book at Nutter, given the chance. Making them scram my engine like that. Kicking him off here at Gusev was too lenient.”
“How are your legs?” Raj asked.
“Don’t worry about me, doc,” Hobbs said. He turned with a grunt and walked back toward his engine room.
Raj turned back to Anna. She was fingering the tools.
“Some good equipment here,” she said.
“First things, first. Help me open the cage,” Raj said.
“Sure thing.”
Anna’s fingers darted around Mazz’s face. Raj heard a couple of clicks and then watched as the cage opened. It had taken less than five seconds.
“You’ve been around robots,” he said, impressed.
“Yeah. My father used them sometimes, and I always had a twofer on my ship. I learned to repair twofers when I was about Yvette’s age.”