“Left.”
Maxim shuffled his left foot forward as Jonathan pushed against it with his left foot.
“Right.”
They repeated the movement on the right side. Like a caterpillar with only two pairs of legs, they shuffled their way up the steep wall. The right steps were somewhat shorter, because they had to be more careful due to Maxim’s broken arm. Maxim emerged from the shadow-filled sea first.
“Thaa-nk y... you. I th... thought I’d n... never see the su... sun again...”
“There it is, buddy. There it is.”
“One... two... three... Go!”
On Wayne’s mark, they lifted Maxim over the edge of the rover’s cargo bed. Jonathan had strapped Maxim’s broken arm to his belt, but the Russian groaned when they set him down. He had offered to administer an injection of painkillers, but that would’ve damaged the suit, so Maxim had declined.
“Now what?” Wayne asked.
“Someone’s got to go back and retrieve the rover,” Maxim said. “I hope it’s still usable.”
Ah, his speech is already improving—that’s a good sign, the doctor thought.
“For that, we’ll have to get you off this rover first,” Wayne said.
“We’ll drive as fast as we can to the base and unload you there,” Jonathan said.
“We should go to the summit. Someone’s still got to check the solar panels,” Maxim said.
That fit him. A job was a job. If the solar panels were supposed to be checked today, then they should be checked, no matter what.
“I’d rather give you a thorough checkup first,” Jonathan said. “Concussions are nothing to joke about.”
“Couldn’t you do that at the outpost on the summit too?”
The outpost was a small building right next to the solar installation. Its equipment included a portable emergency kit.
“I’d rather take you to my medical station,” Jonathan said.
“Do I have to pull rank on you?”
“I’m the doctor, and I’ve got the last word when it comes to medical questions.”
“Please, Jon? It’s just a small detour. A couple of hours won’t matter in the end. Then I’ll be able to sleep in peace. I promise I’ll take it easy for 24 hours after that.”
A 24-hour recovery after a serious fall sounded like a joke, but Maxim actually believed he was offering a fair trade. If his arm had suffered a complicated fracture, he’d probably never agree to surgery.
“Fine, we’ll go to the summit. But as soon as we get back to base, you’ll recognize my authority as the medical doctor and do everything that I tell you. Agreed?”
Maxim didn’t answer.
“Agreed, Max? Otherwise we will return to base right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine, I’ll do what you say. When we get back to base, my body’s yours.”
Jonathan nodded. He’d heard just how Maxim had said the word when, and he knew him well enough to know that now he’d try to delay that time as long as possible.
The view from the summit was stunning. At that moment, he was thankful to Max for talking him into coming here. To the north and west, he saw countless small craters. The land there looked like it had been subjected to a long-lasting bombardment. In contrast, to the east he could see the enormous Scott crater, which was more than 100 kilometers across. Because other meteorite impacts had significantly worn it down, the walls of the even more massive Demonax crater could only just be made out beyond it. To the south, Mons Malapert spread out into a plain that was almost 2,000 meters higher than the mean elevation of the moon.
This plain contained the Shackleton crater, which had a diameter of 21 kilometers. It measured as much as four kilometers deep, and was close to the moon’s South Pole. Laser links for data transmissions were long ago supposed to have been set up on its sides, which were about a hundred kilometers apart, had the moon base’s upgrading not gotten so far behind schedule. But the moon was no longer as glamorous or sexy as it had once been, before humankind had gotten its eyes set on Mars. Jonathan didn’t envy the four-person crew that was currently underway to the Red Planet. But if Unity had been given just half of that mission’s budget, the moon base could’ve been self-sufficient a long time ago.
“Are you coming?” Wayne asked.
The American was standing with an arm around Maxim in front of the airlock that led into the outpost, which resembled an oversized mushroom. It looked as if they were dropping off a drunken friend with his family.
“You make a lovely couple,” Jonathan said.
“Fuck you,” Wayne said.
He used the F-word often, but he didn’t mean anything by it. And he was always very careful not to use it if Atiya or Yue were within hearing distance, which contradicted his claim that it always just slipped out. Wayne probably just thought cursing was fun.
“Wasn’t there a famous cowboy with your name?” Jonathan asked.
Wayne pressed the button that opened the airlock. The door slid to the side. Thin tendrils of mist greeted them, the remains of the air inside the lock, its moisture immediately freezing.
“His name was John Wayne, but he was just a movie actor who played cowboys, not a real cowboy.”
It was tight in the airlock. He usually came here by himself. He liked it here. Not having to see another face for a few hours helped to relax and rejuvenate him.
“Get that suit off, Maxim, and lie down over there,” Wayne said and pointed to the only couch in the room. Relative to its outer dimensions, the outpost’s living area was surprisingly small. That was due to the thick insulation that humans needed as protection from cosmic radiation. The ratio of the outside diameter to the inside diameter was about the same as a cherry to its pit.
He helped Maxim over to the couch, took off his helmet, and pulled in a motherly manner at his suit. With a broken right arm, getting out of a spacesuit was very difficult. Wayne opened all the zippers and snaps. Then he pulled on Maxim’s left glove until his left arm was freed.
“Come here, Jon. Help him keep his right arm up.”
The doctor obeyed the request. Wayne pulled on Maxim’s right glove. The top part of the suit finally swung open.
“I’ll take care of the bottom part myself,” Maxim said.
“You sure?” Wayne asked.
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’d like to give you a dose of pain medicine first,” Jonathan said.
“I’ve got nothing against that.”
“I’ll report to Yue about what’s happened,” Wayne said, “and then I’ll go out and take a look at those solar panels.”
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Wayne said when he returned to the outpost.
Jonathan put a finger in front of his lips and then pointed at Maxim. His patient had been sleeping for half an hour, and he had almost fallen asleep too while waiting for Wayne to return.
Wayne put his helmet back on his head. That’s a good idea, Jonathan thought, and he looked around for his helmet. They could talk to each other via radio without disturbing Maxim.
“So, first, tell me how he’s doing,” Wayne said, pointing to the injured Maxim.
“Well, as far as I can tell, it appears to be a simple fracture to the surgical neck of the humerus. He was really lucky because, other than the break, he only got a few contusions that’ll probably be sore for one, two weeks.”
“The ‘surgical neck?’”
“That’s the mechanical weak point of the humerus, right before the shaft, so just below the shoulder. I still need to check the nerves and arteries. There’s a small chance the fracture might’ve caused some problems there, but I’ll just have to wait and see.”
“How long will it take to heal?”
“If the X-ray doesn’t show anything else, he’ll have to keep the arm in a sling for three to six weeks.”
“He’s right-handed,” Wayne said.
“Yes, he’ll have to get used to some new ways of doing things. But walking away with noth
ing more serious than a broken arm after a free-fall of almost a hundred meters is a miracle, especially since he’d already broken the arm before the fall. Maxim’s got some crazy luck.”
“Well, Yue won’t be happy. This will just delay the work even longer. We wanted to be done with the greenhouse by the time the next transporter arrived.”
“I already talked to her. She doesn’t think it’s going to make any difference, anyway. Earth is just going to have to continue sending us supplies. It’s their own fault that they give us so few resources. But you said you had good and bad news for me?”
“Yeah, I’ve determined that the solar cells are degrading significantly slower than what was expected. But one of the fuel cell accumulators is leaking. That means we’re not harvesting as much energy as we could be.”
“But it’s still more than we need?”
“That’s right. But I guess the engineer in me is not satisfied with the loss of efficiency. So, I talked to Ken, and he had an idea on how I could fix the problem using just materials that are already here at the outpost now.”
“I’d like to get Maxim back to base first. Surely, we’ve got time to do that, don’t we?”
“Then it’d be at least two days before we could get back here.”
“But Maxim—”
“What are you two whispering about? I can see you saying my name.”
Shit, his patient had awakened. He needed more sleep than that. He removed his helmet and Wayne did the same.
“I told Jon that one of the fuel cells has a leak, but he wants to bring you back to base first.”
Thanks, Wayne. Jonathan already knew what Maxim was going to say next.
“The work’s got to come first, of course,” the injured Maxim said. “I’ll be fine here for a while. This couch is very comfortable. But you two will have to sleep on the floor, I’m afraid. There are emergency rations here, right?”
“Of course,” Wayne said.
“I’m worried about the nerves and arteries in your upper arm,” Jonathan said.
“Don’t forget our deal. I’m yours as soon as we get back to base.”
Jonathan cursed under his breath. He’d known Maxim was going to twist their deal to his own advantage. They probably wouldn’t see the base for several weeks now, just so Max wouldn’t have to go to the medical station.
January 2, 2035 – Mars Ship ARES
“Giordi? I need you at the medical station.”
That’s Mike, our ship doctor, thought Giordano. But what medical problem does he want to solve now, and what does it have to do with me? He didn’t take his eye from the eyepiece. It had taken him long enough to get the strange object in focus. He didn’t want to get up yet.
“What’s going on? I’m busy right now. And I thought you were the doctor, right?”
“The robot. It seems to have gone on strike again.”
“The surgical robot? Who are you wanting to operate on?”
“I... uh, just come here, please. You’re the one with the magic touch.”
He might have a magic touch, but he also had eyesight that was slowly getting worse. He’d been so happy that he’d actually found something in the scope. Giordano sighed. He blamed the zero gravity. It flattened out his eyeballs and affected his retinas, so that images were getting less and less sharp. That was what Michael had told him. He couldn’t do anything to counteract it except for staying in his cabin in the rotating ring 24 hours a day, which was out of the question. But after they landed on Mars, the chances were good that his vision would normalize again.
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
He read the latitude and longitude values where he had found the object and recorded them in his digital journal. If he was done with the surgical robot quickly enough, the celestial body wouldn’t have time to move very far. He had already made some reasonable estimates on its motion and velocity from his previous observations. He didn’t have an especially powerful telescope on board, but he was significantly closer than astronomers on Earth, and most importantly, he didn’t have any interference from an atmosphere.
If he was lucky, he would finally be able to get his name in an astronomical publication. Since childhood, his dream was to make discoveries in the sky using a telescope like his countryman, Galileo. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bruno, who had named him, of all things, after the astronomer Giordano Bruno—burned at the stake as a heretic—would finally be proven prophetic.
Since the James Webb space telescope, still a work in progress after 30 years, was non-operational, there was really only one person who could dispute his discovery. Atiya Kabira was responsible for the telescope on the side of the moon facing away from the Earth. But even there the construction work appeared to be proceeding less quickly than the astronomical community had hoped. Ever since the Hubble telescope had to be decommissioned, there was no longer any universe-observing instrument that didn’t have to contend with atmospheric interference.
“Are you coming now?” Michael asked over the ship’s radio.
The question boomed loudly through the workshop module. Giordano had turned up the loudspeaker to full volume, because his hearing was also not working as well as it used to. Luckily it also didn’t disturb anyone, because JR and François were spending their off-duty time in their cabins.
“I’m on my way,” he answered.
The medical station was located toward the rear of the ship, along the main axis. He floated into the room. Michael was upside down, intently examining a small object that appeared to be fixed to the operating table. The arm of the surgical robot was suspended next to him. Giordano floated closer and rotated so that his orientation in the room matched Michael’s.
“What’s going on?”
“See for yourself.” Michael pointed to the robot’s hand. It consisted of three fingers that could be replaced by different surgical instruments. The middle finger was vibrating as if the robot were suffering a tremor.
“Ah,” Giordano said. He already had an idea about what the cause might be. But first he inspected the object, which appeared to be a vase that was mounted on the table. Giordano touched it. The material seemed to be very hard.
“Don’t touch that,” Michael said. “It’s very valuable.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a vase, can’t you see that?”
“On the operating table?”
“I wanted to clean it. It’s a family heirloom—my mom gave it to me before our launch. It’s stoneware. As long as it doesn’t break, I know I’ll get home safely.”
“Why didn’t she give you a metal vase then?”
“I don’t think you understand. If there’s no way it could break at all, where’s the significance?”
“I get it. So, what’s the vase doing here?”
“Like I said, I wanted to clean it.”
“With the surgical robot?”
“Well, at least it’d have a use then.”
“But our tin crew member is supposed to be available to save me if things go bad.”
“The likelihood of us having to use it for something like that is less than half a percent. We’ve all had our appendixes removed long before we started this mission, I’m sure. How many times have you had surgery in your life?”
“Um, once, to have my appendix out.”
“You see? Same with me. Our trip to Mars takes two years. What’s going to happen? And if something does, you’ll still have me.”
“Maybe we should let JR make that decision.”
“Please leave Judith out of this.” Michael put his hand on Giordano’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t bother her with such unimportant stuff.”
Unimportant, now. Michael didn’t want to argue with Judith about what he was doing. Everyone knew that he was jealous of her position. But Giordano didn’t want to make things bad between himself and Michael either. If he somehow damaged or destroyed the surgical robot with this ‘unimportant stuff,’ however, he’d have no choice but to
tell the captain. But he didn’t think this faulty behavior was serious. He was almost certain that one of the muscle fibers of the finger had merely become stuck. Something similar can happen in human hands, too. A finger can’t move, and then suddenly it jerks out of position. He was amazed by how similar the problems in artificial and biological muscles could be.
“Take that thing away.”
Michael carefully released the anchorage. He lifted the vase with three fingers and caressed it with his other hand. Sometimes he acted very strangely. He was the most experienced astronaut here, but he wouldn’t have been the ideal candidate for the role of captain. Judith, or JR, as everyone else called her, was much better suited to the job.
Nevertheless, Michael wasn’t a bad astronaut. Quite the opposite, he had been one of the four best of the last twelve candidates. Maybe he would even be the one chosen to be the first human to set foot on a different planet. Officially that honor belonged to Judith, the highest-ranking officer, but she could also assign someone else, and if he knew her, she might feel like she should placate Michael’s ego somewhat by giving him the honor. Was that unfair? No. He didn’t care who the first was, and François had also already expressed something similar.
Giordano pressed a button on the surgical robot’s lower arm and then turned its hand to the left. Once, twice, and then he was able to remove the sensitive micro-mechanism. The muscle fibers were made from strands of organic material that contracted when a voltage was applied. They worked against tiny springs made from a very elastic and very lightweight alloy. Together with the springs, the fibers were assembled and encapsulated into cable sections that could be replaced if needed. If one of the cables got stuck on something, the fibers inside it would become squashed and shortened, which could cause the tremors that Giordano had observed before.
It usually was enough to free the fibers, but sometimes they bonded together. Then the section had to be replaced, which is what he thought was the case now. “It’s nothing bad, but I think I’m going to have to replace one of the muscle modules,” he said.
The Wall: Eternal Day Page 3