by Corey Ostman
She loved navigation—keeping Wragg apprised of their position within the Ma’adim Vallis. In turn, he taught her how to use navigational aids and how to plot a course.
“When I pilot,” Wragg said, “I like to keep three views open: the microwave rangefinder, the forward visible-light camera, and the triangulated readings from the surface relay network.”
Grace watched transfixed as displays showed the world around them, with the Scout at the center. The bridge was the heart of the ship and its crew, but now seemed like the hub of Mars itself.
As they worked, Wragg talked a lot about Mars, his lifelong home. Grace learned about terraforming, and the importance of water on this dry world. How it had accumulated in the northern hemisphere, where most of the people lived. Fewer than one percent of the Martian population ever ventured south of the equator, with Planum Australe explorers numbering in the dozens.
Mars intrigued Grace, with its dome settlements like cloisters, stitched together with advanced technology. She enjoyed the cultural discussions, and found herself sleeping less so they could talk longer. More than once, Wragg had forced her from the bridge to get some rest. Wired, she would then spin by the engine room to bother Hobbs and Mazz until her welcome was worn—it didn’t take long—then poke her head in on Raj and Anna and be the third wheel.
In the end, Grace would move on to her cabin. Sometimes Tim would be waiting, curled up on her bed or on the hideaway divan. Most of the time, though, he would be under the bed, glowing blue in the shadows, his eyes closed and his paws spasming like a dog chasing rabbits, locked in some AI dream. And usually, exasperated at Tim’s aloofness, Grace would lay down, fully dressed, and stare into Tim’s low blue light until she fell asleep, as ordered. A handful of hours later, she’d bounce back to the bridge.
Grace wondered, one night, if she were happy. True, she was content to be so busy, loved her time with the captain, and was delighted to be learning so much. But Tim’s introspection and Raj’s desire to be with Anna left Grace feeling isolated. As a former ranch hand and as a protector used to squad learning, she needed the companionship of a group. Especially on this strange world. But the disaster with Quint had left everyone buried in themselves. Grace wondered what it would take to dig them out.
The Scout moved swiftly through the massive cleave of the Ma’adim Vallis. In wider sections of the canyon, Wragg would drop the cruiser to the bottom and skim along the ancient bed. They were often so deep that they lost the sun, riding in an orange twilight between striated cliffs.
Every few kilometers, they would pass a robot. Grace found the sight haunting, reminding her of stray cattle back on her family’s Wyoming ranch. They looked lonely and desolate against the empty landscape. Somebody needs to ride out and round them up, she thought.
“Captain, should we stop and wrangle one of those robots?” Grace said before she really knew what she was suggesting. It was near nightfall, and the sight of the robots and the idea of their exodus had mixed into the haze of a sleep-deprived daydream.
“What?” said Wragg.
“Do you think we could learn something if we took it apart—or interrogated it?”
“I don’t think so, Grace,” Richard spoke up.
Grace blinked. That was fast. Was he afraid Wragg might agree?
“Doctor Chanho and I speculate that those individual twofers are not in any position to analyze their situation,” Richard continued. “And we have no idea how long they will stay in formation. We need to get to the center of it. Find the Essex.”
“Besides the robots pointing to the south and some scattered engineer folklore, we don’t know anything,” Grace said. “Raj of all people would want—”
“No,” Richard interrupted. “We must get to the Essex. These individual robots don’t matter.”
“They matter to me,” Grace said.
Silence stretched until Wragg grunted.
“Donner, you should go get some sleep. Course will be steady for a few hours, but then I’ll need your help.”
She stared at Wragg for a moment and then left.
Her cabin was empty when she got there. Raj must be somewhere with Anna, as usual. She touched the panel and the door slid shut, but not before a brown speckled flash of PodPooch skidded into the room.
“Where were you?”
“On the bridge,” said Tim.
“You could have said so.” Grace laid on her bunk in a huff.
“Didn’t have time. You were already deep into it with Richard.” Tim circled the cabin before jumping onto a seat by the bunk.
“You left without a fight. Not like you, Grace,” he said.
“He’s wrong.”
“Who?”
“Richard.” She sat up.
“About interrogating one of those robots?” Grace couldn’t tell if Tim was disdainful or merely stating a fact.
Full of angry energy, Grace walked over to the viewport and pointed outside.
“We’re rushing headlong to some mass of robots without really understanding—”
She noticed there wasn’t a robot visible that direction and dropped her hand. Scowling, she sat back on the edge of her bed.
“Do you really think you can talk to them?” Tim asked.
“Well, I do a good job talking to you—and Mazz,” she said.
“But the robots have stopped. They’re just standing there.”
“I know, Tim. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t communicate.”
Tim yawned. “I’ve been trying. I know the frequency.”
Grace stared at the PodPooch.
“You’ve been trying?”
Tim nodded, his puppyish ears flopping. “Each time we approach one, I detect an increase in the seven point eight terahertz band. It drops off as we pass.” He stretched out his paws. “I’ve tried to establish a link when the signal reaches its peak, but so far no luck.”
“Huh.” She should have known the little guy was on top of things. “Is that what Raj meant?”
“What?”
“Mazz told Raj that you were distressed. I thought it was your dreams.”
Tim cocked his head. “In a way, it was. When Quint moved the ship away from Gusev, he passed two robots. Their signals caused a spike in strength and I got…distracted. Like dreaming.”
“Why?” she said.
“It was as if I were in a noisy room. Too many people talking.”
“You’re proving my point, you know.”
“What point?”
“We don’t know anything about what’s happened! What are they transmitting to each other? Why did they leave the domes and spread out to the south? We need answers. We have to get up close and—”
“Don’t you think it would be dangerous?” Tim asked.
“If you think they’re hostile, that’s an even better reason to check. Before we fly into the hornet nest.”
The privacy chime pinged at the door.
“Oh, great. Loverboy’s back,” Tim said.
“Raj is allowed to like Anna,” Grace said, swatting the pooch as she walked up to the door. She removed the privacy lock.
“Can I come in?”
The captain stood in the doorway. Her gaze was drawn away from the contrast of his black uniform against the white hall to his coppery face. She noticed light stubble on his jaw and hairline. His blue eyes locked on her and she stepped back.
“Uh, sure.”
Hadn’t he just said they were about to move into difficult terrain? She pulled out the chair from her desk.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Wragg flashed a smile, closed the door, and took the seat. He looked around the room.
“Good. You’re alone.”
A tiny Tim-chuckle hit her dermal dot.
“What is it, Captain?” Grace asked.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” he said. “This was the first day you’ve left the bridge without complaint since Gusev. Something on your mind?”
Grace and Tim exchanged a look.
“Looks like the captain knows you as well as I do,” noted Tim in her dermal.
“I think Richard is being short-sighted,” Grace began, feeling her face flush. “I don’t like the idea of—”
“Flying blind to the pole without knowing what the twofers are up to?” Wragg finished her sentence.
She raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“I saw the look on your face when he shot down your idea. It was fast, wasn’t it? Like the times I asked him.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “He’s being shortsighted, and I think you’re right. So. How can I help?”
“Oh great. Two lunatics,” Tim muttered.
Grace paced the cabin and sat on the bed. “We’ll need to try to communicate with one.” She looked at Tim. “Ideally, we wouldn’t move it. Not knowing what alarm or weapon it could trigger.”
Wragg rubbed his chin. “The winds out there will be high. I don’t know that we could do much by way of communication.”
“I know the frequency they’re using,” Grace offered.
“Impressive,” Wragg smiled. “Sounds like you’ve been mulling over this for a while.”
Tim growled unhappily.
“The problem is, they haven’t responded to inquiries over that bandwidth,” Grace added. She looked at Tim. Was he angry she had told Wragg?
“And if they don’t respond, we’ll have nothing again,” Wragg said. “It might be better to bring one onto the ship.”
“No! It’s too—” Tim began in her dermal, but she continued.
“That wouldn’t be too dangerous, would it?”
“More dangerous than flying into a swarm of them?” Wragg shrugged. “It’s relative.”
Grace smiled. “My thought exactly. But how would we bring one aboard without everyone noticing we’ve landed?”
“It would have to be quick,” Wragg said, leaning forward. “If we could get close enough, between us and Mazz, we could manage the operation in a matter of minutes. Even if it wasn’t willing.”
“A tasker?”
“Absolutely.”
“Warmongers,” said Tim in her dot.
“You could help, you know!” Grace shot out, glaring at Tim.
Wragg frowned. “What?”
Grace swallowed. “I, uh…just thought the PodPooch could help, maybe.”
Tim wagged his tail innocently.
Wragg looked doubtful. “Does he have a perimeter alarm? Maybe he could watch the door.”
Tim’s voice flickered in her dermal. “Fine, Grace. But if you want to be crazy, don’t go in shooting.” He got up and shook, as if shedding water. “First, ask him: how do we get close enough to find one? I’ve seen the scan. None in our flight path are that close to the ship.”
“How do we get close enough to grab one of the twofers?” Grace asked.
“So you’ve looked ahead.” Wragg grinned. “So have I. It’s easy. The prevailing winds—the sand. We’ve been following a slow, sinusoidal yaw to keep sand from piling up. I could exaggerate the change in heading to bring us close to a twofer.”
“Smart man,” Tim grudgingly admitted.
“Then we set down at night, when only Mazz is active,” Grace continued.
“Exactly.”
“Communications,” Tim said to Grace. “If the twofer can distract me, it could interact with the ship.”
“What about shielding the ship’s computer?” Grace asked.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Wragg said. “And after Quint, that should have been the first thing.” He stood and paced. “We can download some military-style protection from the Gusev port. I’ll convince Richard it’s worth the cost, and talk Hobbs into installing it.”
Grace nodded, then looked at Tim, her eyebrows raised.
“Satisfied,” said the PodPooch.
“Well,” she said, standing and offering her hand to Wragg. “It looks like we have a plan, Captain.”
Wragg took her hand.
“Report for duty two hours early, a day from now, Protector Donner.”
Chapter 25
Wragg touched the nav, bringing the Scout to the sandy surface. They came down like a whisper. The twofer stood just off starboard.
He stood and surveyed his assembled crew. Mazz was at attention, its tasker prepped, awaiting further instructions. Grace was hunched over the environmental display, monitoring weather conditions. Her PodPooch was curled around her legs.
Wragg turned to Mazz. “I want this done quickly, do you understand? Out and back with that twofer. Bring it directly to the storage locker you modified.”
“Yes, sir,” Mazz said.
“The twofer is twenty meters to starboard. We’ll monitor you from here. Any clarifications needed?”
“None, sir.”
“Right, then. Get moving.”
Mazz swiveled its torso and left the bridge.
Wragg resumed his seat. “Donner, the weather still stable?”
“Yes, Captain. Wind speed is steady at seventy-two kilometers per hour.”
“Hmph,” he acknowledged. The wind would be no trouble for a robot. With any luck, Mazz would be back in five minutes and they would be aloft.
A perimeter alarm began its bleat. Mazz had depressurized the forward airlock and opened the outer door. Wragg touched the alarm, silencing it.
“Here we go.” He tapped his ptenda. “Fair winds and following seas, Mazz.”
He noticed Grace’s smile.
“Donner?”
“Interesting which naval terms survived on a planet with no navy.”
“The dunes are a sea, Donner.”
He swiveled the tactical display so that he and Grace could both watch Mazz’s progress. Their robot’s orange blip moved steadily toward the pulsing blue dot of the target twofer.
“Try it now,” he said, pointing to Grace’s ptenda.
Grace nodded. “Mazz? Can you transmit to the robot? Can you make contact? Use this frequency.” She input the number.
“Switching on Mazz’s camera.” An infrared inset appeared on the tactical display, diagonal lines of sandstorm acting as a gauzy veil over the shape of the twofer ahead.
“I’m trying, Protector Donner,” Mazz said, its transmission crackling with sand static. “Nothing so far.”
“Just continue the message, Mazz,” Wragg said. “But don’t stop. Bring it aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
They both watched as Mazz reached the robot. It was a heavy labor model, nearly two meters tall with beefy arms and massive metarm legs meant to lower its center of gravity. Long ago, someone had painted the robot green, but its many bangs and scrapes revealed dull gray metarm. Wragg had seen twofers like this work the main trans-shipment port of Albor Dome. The twofer was more humanoid in form than Mazz. Wragg remembered the first time he had seen this model, with its two eyes angled down toward a missing nose. It always looked angry.
From the cage-mounted camera, he saw Mazz’s right arm extend and grab the twofer’s shoulder.
And stop.
What’s that damn robot waiting for?
“Mazz, get a move on!”
Nothing.
“Mazz, what’s wrong?” Grace asked.
Mazz stood frozen next to the sentinel.
“The computer interference we worried about,” Grace said.
Wragg cursed. “We should have shielded Mazz. Richard will airlock us both if we scrambled his twofer.” He stood. “I’d better go get them.”
“Can’t we use a loading arm?”
“It’s for dock work, in-dome. Won’t work in the sand and wind,” he said. “Besides, what if the twofer scrambles it, too? I won’t risk my ship.”
“If it could scramble us, should we even bring it aboard?”
Wragg shook his head. “We need to get Mazz. And I’m not bringing Mazz to Richard like that with nothing to show for it.”
“All right,” Grace said. “Let’s suit up.”
<
br /> Wragg would have preferred someone on the bridge to monitor, preferred not to have Grace outside in this storm, but noted Grace’s determination and decided not to argue. With the howling wind, he’d probably need her help.
He nodded. “Ok, Donner. Let’s keep this quick and quiet.”
Wragg turned and exited the bridge. He heard Grace say ‘be right back.’ A PodPooch stay command, no doubt.
Wragg rode the ladder below and proceeded through the crews’ quarters, Grace right behind him. Hobbs’s snoring drowned out their passage.
Stealth dictated that they dress in the airlock, so he gathered up two pressure suits and motioned Grace to enter. He sealed the door and handed her a suit.
They stared at each other for a moment.
“Right. I’ll, um—” Grace said.
“Yes, I’ll—over here—” Wragg said.
They shuffled and dressed in uncomfortable silence.
“I know Mazz is heavy,” Grace said, breaking the quiet as she snapped the ring collar around her neck. “How will we move him?”
“We’ll have to take it slowly. Mars gravity will work in our favor, but remember the momentum—get him moving too fast and things will get ugly.” He smoothed out the fabric of his suit, checking it for tears.
Grace snapped on her helmet and handed him his. He pulled it down over his head. The suit menus came alive before his eyes. He blinked on communications. Then, reaching around, he grabbed two tethers and secured both suits to an eyelet left of the exterior door.
“Let’s go.”
He touched the panel, watching the pressure gauge drop as breathable air vanished.
Green. Wragg opened the exterior door.
The light from the airlock allowed him to see a couple of meters ahead. The wind had increased, and sand whipped fiercely past the ship. He blinked through his helmet’s menu and turned on its external plasma headlight. He stepped out, checking his telemetry, then turned to the right. There were the two robots, frozen in a roiling red storm.