Michael stood behind him and lifted the Hard Upper Torso so Wayne could better wriggle his way in and get set. Where was his helmet? Ah, right next to the air mattress. He grabbed it. Michael was examining the point of impact. The Doc always seemed to remain calm. His respect for Michael grew even more. He hadn’t even put his helmet on yet. Wayne checked the air pressure. 75 percent. It’d been two minutes since the impact. Good, then he had at least four minutes to get his helmet on. He went over to the doctor, who had knelt on the floor and was moving his gloves over the floor around him.
“Ha, I think I found it,” he said. He showed Wayne his find. It was a reddish-gray pebble, barely a centimeter big.
“This tiny thing is what scared the crap out of me?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah, they come in fast, and the moon has no atmosphere to slow them down.”
“Uh-huh.”
Wayne looked at his air mattress. It was about three meters from the impact site. The moon had a diameter of almost 3,500 kilometers, giving a cross-sectional surface area of almost 10 million square kilometers. And from that gigantic area, this damn meteorite picked a target, of all places, only three meters from his head. Maybe the moon really wasn’t any sort of paradise, raining death down upon its inhabitants by surprise.
“All somehow rather dangerous. The moon, I mean,” Wayne said.
“Well, any little pebble that rains down on us comes in without slowing down. But I bet the risk of getting hit on the head with a coconut on Earth is probably still higher.”
“I can watch where I’m walking and avoid the coconut trees, though. That won’t do any good here.”
“That’s true. Time to put our helmets on,” Michael said, “and then we should fix the damage. Nothing but a little scare.”
There was a lot to complain about with Mike, Wayne thought, but he sure was good at stopping someone from panicking. However, he was still a big scaredy-cat when it came to riding on the back of a rover.
December 8, 2035 – Moon Base Unity
The lights flickered. What was that about?
Maxim looked around. The sun was low in the sky, so the LED panels shone at their highest brightness setting. He must’ve been mistaken. The flickering had seemed to come from all around at the same time, but that was impossible. The panels all couldn’t have become faulty at the same time.
Then the alarm sounded. It was piercing and almost painfully loud. He knew that shriek from the test drills they ran. Wayne had once joked that the noise could wake the dead.
He called the command center. “Maxim here. What’s going on?”
“Power outage,” Yue answered. “Ken’s looking for the cause.”
“Should I come in?”
“Wait a minute. We might need you outside. Ken’s coming to the command center now.”
“Kenjiro here. The connection to the power plant has been broken. We’re running on battery power.”
“Not good. How long will the batteries last?” Maxim asked.
“Maybe three hours,” Kenjiro answered. “But if we cut power to the greenhouses, the base life-support could run for another twelve hours.”
“No way we’re cutting power to the greenhouses. Then we’d lose them, and that would seriously endanger our food supply.”
“You’re the boss, Maxim.”
“I’m driving to the power plant right now. We’ll have power again in three hours tops.” He hoped he wasn’t promising too much. He still didn’t know what the problem was. He’d have to improvise. But, switching off power to the greenhouses? No, they couldn’t do that. It would set their progress back by months.
“Do I need to remind you that there must be at least two crew members for all off-base excursions and outside work?”
“Yes, Ken, you’re right.” As commander, he’d better stick to his own rules. “So, who’s supposed to be outside now? It’d take too long for anyone inside to get dressed. I’ll have to go by myself if nobody’s out here already.”
“Mike’s in Greenhouse 7.”
The American, of all people, Maxim thought. The doctor won’t be much help in repairing the damage. “Okay, better than nothing. Tell him to get here as fast as possible.”
“Almost there already,” Michael announced.
Oh, had he been listening? He’d been talking to the base on the open channel. It didn’t matter. Maxim ran, hunched over, to the exit, put on his spacesuit, and let himself out of the airlock.
At that same moment, the large rover pulled up. Michael got off. “Over here, boss,” he said. “To be safe, I put a complete repair kit on the cargo bed.”
“Very good,” Maxim said.
Maybe the American will be useful after all. At least he’s pro-active. Maxim got onto the driver’s seat and started the electric motor.
“Better than nothing, huh?” Michael said and climbed on behind him.
They needed a good hour to get to the power plant at the top of Mons Malapert. Maxim was happy now that he’d let Wayne have his way. He himself had thought the expansion of the rover pathway to the solar panels was pointless, and had gone so far as to accuse Wayne of suggesting the plan primarily for his own interests.
He parked the rover next to the field of solar panels. At first glance, everything looked the same as it always did. It would take a long time to inspect each solar panel. But he didn’t think that was necessary, because a single fault among the panels would’ve barely reduced the total power output of the power plant. Maxim walked decisively toward the distributor—it and the laser link were the two most likely causes of the problem.
From five meters away he could already see that his hypothesis had been correct, even though the distributor was in the shadow of the shelter. Scattered around the device, also beyond the hard shadow cutoff line, were shiny parts that looked like electronic scrap. It seemed pretty clear what had happened here. Maxim shined his helmet light onto the distributor.
“Man, it looks like that thing got it good,” Michael said.
Maxim jumped. He’d completely forgotten that the American was there with him. This latest meteorite hit might prove disastrous. True, the last two incidents had nearly killed people, but this time they might all be in for it. Without energy from the solar panels, the base would die.
He needed to pull himself together, not let himself panic. There was still time. He still might be able to save the greenhouses if he hurried.
“Maxim to base, do you copy?”
“We copy,” Yue said. “Everyone’s here in the command center.”
“The distributor’s taken a hit. I’m going to try to repair it.”
“Good luck!”
“Thanks, I’m going to need it.”
Maxim rushed right to work on the distributor. “Can you give me light here, please, Mike?”
“Of course. Maybe then I can be of some use to you.”
Michael did his job very well. He’d have to let him know. Unfortunately, the extent of the disaster showed itself only after Michael had lit up the whole device. The meteorite had struck the distributor right in its center. The core looked as if it had exploded. Maxim couldn’t help thinking of that movie scene where a newborn alien burst out of its host’s stomach. Who would’ve thought that such a little stone from space could cause such damage? The hole that the meteorite had torn in the distributor’s metal cover was only about three centimeters across.
There was nothing else he could do. He’d have to remove the core and completely rewire it. Maxim waved to Michael and pointed to the rover. Together they carried the repair kit to the distributor. It contained everything that a handyman or technician could need, even different sizes of duct tape. However, what he needed now was cable, cable, and more cable.
It was lucky, at least, that the distributor didn’t have any sophisticated electronics. It just required some good old-fashioned electrical engineering work that could be handled with a soldering iron. Michael brought him an extension cord. The rover provided the
power for the soldering iron.
Maxim got to work.
“Maxim? Yue here.”
“What is it? I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you, but the batteries have only enough energy for only another half hour at most.”
He took a quick look at his work. He wasn’t even half done. “I’m hurrying,” he said. “Please get into your spacesuits.”
“Do you need help? Nobody could make it to you in 30 minutes.”
“No, there’s not enough space here for two people to be able to work on the distributor anyway. I have to ask you to deactivate the life-support system in the station. You can survive for a day in the suits. The plants in the greenhouses will be dead after ten minutes of the cold and vacuum, the soil after three, four hours.”
“Roger that. We will deactivate the life-support system as quickly as we can. That should buy you maybe an hour.”
“Thank you for your understanding. Maxim out.”
One hour. That was definitely not enough time. He probably needed twice that. Shit. Maybe he should just actually give up. But no, they needed power again, no matter what.
“Doesn’t sound good,” Michael said. “I’m not an expert, but it looks as if you’re not even half done.”
“Good observation.”
Maxim would’ve liked to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He was soldering as fast as he could, but in the moon’s vacuum and under the poor lighting conditions, it wasn’t as quick as in the lab.
“In heart surgery, sometimes we have the problem that we can’t continue with all the repairs that are needed,” Michael said. “Like when too many vessels are blocked and we need ten stents or more.”
“Okay...”
He’d be able to concentrate better if Michael kept quiet, but he didn’t want to put his hand over Michael’s mouth just yet. Maybe the American would notice that he didn’t want to talk.
“When that happens, we have to fall back on a different approach. We put in a bypass. To do that, it’s best to use an artery from the patient’s chest, something he doesn’t require to survive. The bypass relieves the burden on the heart, and it’s once again better supplied with oxygen.”
Why was he explaining this to him right now, of all times? A bypass? Hmm. Could that concept work for the distributor? If he connected the output of several solar panels directly to the distributor’s output and bypassed the ‘heart,’ he could get power flowing back to the base sooner. It wouldn’t be full power, but it might be enough to save the greenhouses.
“If this works, Mike, you’re a genius,” he said. “And a hero.”
The work went quickly. Any certified electrician would probably have a heart attack if he took one look at this amateurish work, but when he turned the improvised switch, the base should have power again.
“Maxim to base, do you copy?”
“Yue here. The others are already outside. The last one out turns out the lights. That’s me.”
“No need. I cobbled together an emergency fix. In one second,” he turned the switch by 90 degrees, “you should have power again.”
“Ah, great. Yes, I can confirm that. Whatever you did, it was a good idea.”
“Actually, it was Mike’s idea.”
“I didn’t know the doctor was also knowledgeable in electrical engineering. When will you be back at the base?”
“This is just a temporary solution. Now I’ve got to finish the real repair work. We should be back in four to five hours.”
December 31, 2035 – Moon Base Unity
“I think it goes without saying that this has been a memorable year,” Maxim said. “A year overshadowed by a tragedy whose outcome we still don’t know. So, let’s raise our glasses in a toast that 2036 finally brings us some clarity—a clarity that we can all live with.”
It was a good speech. Jonathan looked at Yue, who was sitting next to him. Who would’ve thought that he would get to know her so well during this challenging year? The commander put the microphone to the side, stood up, and moved around the room, raising his glass to toast each person, one by one.
Jonathan reached for his glass of sparkling wine. When it was his turn, he made the typical motion with his glass, but forgot to consider the low lunar gravity. The wine sloshed out of the glass in a high arc through the air and struck Maxim right in the chest.
The commander laughed. “A sparkling shower, how nice!” he shouted. “Anyone else want one?”
Jonathan turned red. He should’ve practiced the motion first.
Yue put her hand on his shoulder. Very carefully, he raised his glass to her also. “To a good year,” she said.
“Thanks, Yue,” he said. “To you, too—and to the two of us.”
The noise of someone clearing his throat came over the loudspeakers. Michael was now standing in front and holding the microphone. The American had won the crew’s respect with his quick and prudent actions in recent months. He appeared to have overcome his outbursts and letdowns from his initial arrival on the moon. Jonathan was still skeptical, but he felt obligated to allow that any person, even Michael, could learn from his mistakes.
“Thank you, Maxim,” Michael began. “That was an excellent summary of the past year.”
There it was, the reason why Jonathan still felt skeptical. The doctor from the ARES had gone from one extreme to the other, and now he was suddenly excited and supportive of everyone else, to an exaggerated degree.
“I’d like to turn our gaze to the future,” Michael continued. “The future, which you hope will give us clarity, Maxim. ‘Clarity,’ that’s a good word. We all wish we had a little more of it. Four years ago, I didn’t have any. At the time, the question before me was whether to fly into space as the doctor for the spaceship ARES, or to settle down in Michigan with my wife at the time and become a family doctor, to have kids with her, and lead a happy life. I wanted both, but that wasn’t possible, because my wife didn’t want to wait two years for me.
“Nobody could give me a clear answer on what would make me happiest in the end. I knew that too, sure, because nobody can predict the future, but nevertheless I asked everyone I met. I’m sure none of you will be surprised to know that I never got any definitive answers. Then I signed the contract with NASA. There was no going back then. And suddenly there it was, clarity. It became clear to me that I always would’ve felt like I’d missed something if I hadn’t gone on that flight to Mars. But without my having made the decision, I never would’ve gotten that clarity.”
The noise level in the room was slowly increasing. People just want to party, Jonathan thought, not listen to speeches.
“I’m almost done, don’t worry,” Michael said. “Why am I telling you all this? I’d like to ask you, please, don’t wait for clarity. It’s not going to come by itself. This year, we must all make a decision that will determine the future of humankind. Will we stay here on the moon, where meteorite strikes will always threaten our existence? Or will we seek a safe haven where we can preserve humanity’s legacy?
“We can’t do anything more for those down there, or for the vast numbers of people who’ve died this past year. It’s up to us to preserve their legacy and their knowledge. We have an enormous responsibility to those eight billion people who were down there when our spaceship launched. We will gain clarity about the situation, I can promise all of you, only when we decide to set a date to restart our journey to Mars.
“Happy New Year to all of you.” Michael bowed slightly and then put down the microphone again.
Wayne, François, and Atiya clapped. Even Yue quietly put her hands together, causing Jonathan to look at her in surprise.
“A reasonable speech,” Yue said. “Don’t you think? I can’t imagine we’re ever going to hear anything from anyone down there. I’m really sorry for your family, you’ve got to believe me, but we’re not safe here. They wouldn’t have wanted you to be in constant danger.”
Jonathan sighed, his good
mood having vanished. He didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t want to admit that his family was already dead. He almost envied Yue her certainty, but then, at the same time, he felt sorry for her, because she didn’t have anyone whom she loved unconditionally.
Three hours of the new year had already passed when Judith picked up the microphone. Jonathan was slightly drunk, but the voice of the ARES commander jerked him back into reality. She did not give a happy impression.
“My dear fellow travelers,” Judith began, “we all find ourselves together on the journey of our life. I didn’t plan to say anything tonight, but a few conversations with some of you have shown me that there’s a fundamental problem among us. It’s called uncertainty. It’s a problem that we can solve, of course, as Michael so clearly explained today—no, that was yesterday, wasn’t it?—by making a decision.
“We have the fortune, and the misfortune, of all sitting together in the same boat. Therefore, I’d like to invite all of you to make this decision together, in ten days, on the 10th of January. Do we want to stay on the moon or travel to Mars? Simple majority wins. Until then, please think about what clarity means to you.
“Me? I think we still owe humanity our patience. The thought that someone will contact us, but we can’t help them, is too terrible an idea for me. But you don’t have to share that opinion. Maxim has also agreed to the vote.” Judith put down the microphone.
Jonathan thought he might have seen something wet glistening on her cheek. Atiya walked toward her, but Judith turned away instead, went to the exit, and left the party.
January 5, 2036 – Moon Base Unity
“Does anyone copy? Hello, base?”
The Wall: Eternal Day Page 20