Amphitrite: The Black Planet: Hard Science Fiction Read online

  Amphitrite: The Black Planet

  Hard Science Fiction

  Brandon Q. Morris

  Contents

  Amphitrite: The Escape

  Amphitrite: The Planet

  Author's Note

  Also by Brandon Q. Morris

  A Guided Tour of Planet Nine

  Glossary of Acronyms

  Metric to English Conversions

  Amphitrite: The Escape

  January 12, 2078 – Hektor

  “Throw me the line,” called Grigori.

  Juri hesitated. He had one end of a 20-meter long steel girder on his shoulder. Their colleague Irina was carrying the other end. Before them lay the abyss that divided the two egg-shaped halves of the asteroid. Somewhere down there, perhaps 500 meters below him, the two unequal siblings had been welded together by the pressure of their collision many millions of years ago.

  “Hurry up!” cried Grigori. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

  Pussy? Sure, he could talk. Grigori was already standing on the other side of the abyss, and all he’d had to do was carry the backpack with the tools. The girder was light in the low gravity, but its inertial mass hadn’t changed. Setting it in motion without taking that into account could prove fatal.

  Juri turned around. The beam of his helmet’s headlamp followed the brightly shining steel and met another person in a spacesuit—Irina—who still had the other end of the beam on her shoulder.

  “Irina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If we both jump at the same time, we should make it.”

  “But if we don’t jump with enough push-off, you’ll fall into the abyss with the girder.”

  That’s a good point, Juri thought.

  “That’s why you should throw me the line. Then I can pull him up,” said Grigori.

  Juri shouldn’t have spoken to Irina on the open channel. Grigori was good at his job, but he was also very full of himself. It was a wonder he was still alive, although he’d probably attribute that to his own brilliance.

  “And the girder, you genius?” asked Juri. “The boss’ll tear us a new one if we lose it.”

  “I have an idea,” said Irina.

  “Let’s hear it then,” said Juri.

  “I’ll use the valve on the oxygen tank as propulsion.”

  “You want to hang from the girder and propel it with your breathing air?”

  “It could work, Juri.”

  “But then you risk running out of air.”

  “It’s not far to the construction site once we’re across, and coming back will be no sweat without the girder.”

  “We still have to weld it on.”

  “You don’t need me for that.”

  “I don’t know, Irina, it sounds too risky to me.”

  “Let her do it,” said Grigori. “She’s not a pussy like you. If we keep standing around arguing, we’ll all run out of air.”

  “Shut up, Grigori! Did anyone ask you?”

  “Just ignore him, Juri,” said Irina. “Listen to me. My plan will work.”

  “Fine,” said Juri.

  “Three... two... one,” Irina counted down over the radio. “Go!”

  Juri held on tightly to the girder and began to move. The loose groundcover of ice and dust sprayed out sideways under his feet. He wanted to run, but the heavy steel was slowing him down. He was nearly at the edge, and he was still moving as though in slow motion. Time... to... jump... now!

  Juri was floating. The beam of his helmet lamp brushed the cliff. It didn’t reach all the way down. Probably a good thing. Now he was completely dependent on Irina. He could hear her panting over the radio channel. She was still running, and at the same time blasting valuable oxygen out of her tank into the vacuum above the dark surface of the asteroid.

  Time seemed to stand still. Juri had never had so much time to look at the opposite side of the abyss. He’d crossed it often—without a heavy load—but for the first time he saw with his own eyes why Chen had acquired a license for this particular asteroid, even though it orbited so far from Earth. The two halves that together formed the elongated asteroid, Hector, were as different as two celestial bodies of their kind could be. The one on which the base was located was a typical, dirty snowball of ice and rock. However the other, toward which he was flying in slow motion, had a core of metal that made up almost its entire mass. The structure was especially recognizable on the cliff face because the ever-present dust couldn’t collect there.

  “Juri, careful!”

  Irina’s warning came just in time. The cliff suddenly jumped out at him. The girder seemed to have picked up speed again, but he’d aimed poorly because it was too low. Grigori must be waiting eight meters above him. The wall! Juri stretched his arms and legs out in front of him to cushion the impact. Hopefully the girder wouldn’t do anything unpredictable. Impact! He touched the wall with his hands and knees, where the suit had extra reinforcement. He felt a sharp pain in his hips. He tried to grab on, but the wall was too smooth. He bounced off.

  “Grigori, the cable!” he called.

  If he didn’t grab hold of the cable now, he’d fall into the depths. He looked up but couldn’t see his colleague.

  “Watch out. The girder!” cried Irina.

  Where was it? The darkness obscured the dangerous piece of metal. He turned his head back and forth frantically until his lamp beam fell on the girder. A stroke of luck! The wall had redirected the danger upward. The enormous inertia of the heavy piece was working in their favor.

  “I’ll grab it,” cried Grigori.

  What was he doing? Grigori would never reach it! He should throw Juri the cable!

  “Man, I need the cable! Now!”

  “Wait a minute!” called Grigori. “If we lose the girder, Chen’ll tear us a new one. You said so yourself.”

  “I’m falling, you idiot!”

  And he was. Shit. He shouldn’t have let himself be persuaded. They should have found another way to transport the girder across the abyss. Hektor’s gravity, as low as it was, was pulling him down. He tried to roughly calculate his speed, but increasing panic shook the numbers around in his head like dice in a tumbler.

  “I’m going to die,” he cried. It sounded so banal. Everyone had to die sometime. Today was just his day. And yet he was so overcome with fear that the sweat poured down his face, and he pissed his pants.

  “No, you’re not,” said Irina.

  Suddenly she was behind him. She reached for his left arm with her right hand and pulled him up. Irina was rising as though she could fly. Then he saw her left hand directing the vapor coming out of the oxygen tank valve. Frozen oxygen. That’s how cold it was here. And deadly.

  The impulse was enough. They reached the upper edge of the abyss, and Irina shoved him forward. Juri fell onto his knees.

  He looked at the ground and breathed deeply. Irina’s shadow landed next to him. It was quiet. He was alive.

  “See, everything’s fine,” said Grigori after what felt like about five minutes.

  “Give him a moment,” said Irina. “It’s only been thirty seconds.”

  “Let me see,” said Grigori.

  Irina’s shadow transformed. That must be Grigori’s lamp. Juri forced himself to stand up. Grigori was standing next to Irina, holding her arm as though he was feeling her pulse.

  “I thought so,” said Grigori, letting her arm fall. “Your oxygen is almost at zero.”

  “Calm down, I’ve still got fifteen minutes’ reserve,” said Irina.

  “Then you should start making your way back,” said Juri.

  “Oh, you’re back with us? I’m
glad.”

  “Thanks, Irina. That was a real last-minute rescue.”

  “By my calculation, I could have waited another thirty-five seconds.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m really grateful. I owe you one.”

  “I have a few suggestions,” Irina said with a laugh.

  She was a little crazy—Juri had already heard that from the others. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to laugh.

  “We’ll talk about it back at base,” he said. “Now go. Should one of us come with you, just to be safe?”

  “Hey, I’m a big girl,” said Irina.

  “Sorry, that was dumb. You just saved my life.”

  “... and, go!” said Grigori, who had now taken the lead.

  Juri heaved the other end of the girder onto his shoulder, and they slowly marched off.

  The ground was much more challenging than on the other side because the dust layer was a lot thinner. They were making better time, and should be able to cover the kilometer to the construction site in half an hour.

  “What was that with the cable before?” asked Juri.

  “With the cable?”

  “When I was falling into the abyss, I called out—”

  “Oh, that. As you could see, I was busy with the girder, which you dropped.”

  “So you decided to let me croak?”

  “Juri, this thing was specially built for aiming the laser. If we lost it, it would delay the job by at least six months. RB would’ve given Chen hell, and he would’ve vented his anger at us.”

  “Man, I almost died!”

  “But you didn’t. I figured Irina would step in. She’s a quick thinker. And you were in luck because she has a weakness for losers.”

  What an asshole! Juri felt like stopping, dropping the girder, and thrashing Grigori. But then everything would take even longer, and it was already the end of his shift. He’d get him back one day.

  January 13, 2078 – Hektor

  Juri grabbed the handle, turned it and pulled, but the door wouldn’t open. The men’s toilet was occupied. Denise came out of the women’s toilet and waved at him. She was always smiling, even early in the morning. He’d never seen her in a bad mood, and there were plenty of reasons to be grumpy on this asteroid.

  Suddenly the door flew open in front of him. Juri jumped.

  “Hey, calm down, it’s only me,” said Grigori.

  “I was just—”

  “—lost in thought, I know.”

  Grigori pushed him aside and went past. Then he turned around as though he’d changed his mind. He planted himself in front of Juri and leaned against the wall. The smell of his cheap aftershave enveloped him. It even drowned out the smell of machine oil, which otherwise dominated the base.

  “So, did you get laid yesterday?”

  “I... man, no. What are you talking about?”

  Why did he even answer that? He should just shove him aside and disappear into the toilet.

  “That chick’s obviously into you. If you’re having performance anxiety, just give me a call. I bet she wouldn’t have anything against a threesome.”

  “You’re disgusting, Grigori. I think she’s more likely to puke than let you—”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, buddy. Why don’t you ask her where she has a birthmark in the shape of a flower?”

  Juri shook his head. Then he grabbed Grigori by the shoulders and pushed him away. “You should use that cheap aftershave on your face instead of drinking it. It’s already eating away at your brain.”

  Grigori laughed. “I like you better like this, Jurochka. But you should be careful with that frown line. It doesn’t look sexy. The ladies love my aftershave.”

  “Blowhard. You’re all talk.”

  “Whatever. At least I don’t have to be rescued by women. I prefer screwing them.”

  “One more word and—”

  “Yeah? And what? I’m listening.”

  Juri tensed his muscles. Was it worth getting physical? It seemed so... primitive. And he’d just be stooping to this creep’s level. “Nothing. You’re not worth it,” he said.

  “Haha, I thought so. All bark and no bite. Irina probably realized that, and that’s why she didn’t...”

  Grigori’s last words were swallowed by the door as it closed behind Juri. He turned the lock as far as it would go to be sure he’d have some peace.

  “Stop! Don’t take it out!” Chen snapped.

  Juri jumped and put the magazine, still in its plastic cover, back down on the desk. His boss had spoken quietly but fiercely. His words sounded like the lashes of a fancy whip with a thousand tiny glass shards set into it. Chen was half a head shorter than himself and slightly stocky, but it was a mistake to underestimate him. He had a lightning-fast right hook, as Mike had found out the day before yesterday. Mike had deserved it, though, the asshole. There were a surprising number of assholes on the base—it was almost as though it was a recruitment prerequisite. But then there were nice people like Irina and Denise.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” said Chen. “You’re welcome to look at it. Just don’t take it out of its cover.”

  “What is it?” asked Juri. He picked up the plastic sheath and its contents. It must be made of delicate material if Chen insisted on covering it like that. “It this paper or something?” he asked.

  “Yes it is—it’s a magazine, printed on real paper.”

  “That must be insanely expensive.”

  “Back then, it only cost about as much as a burger.”

  Juri looked at the graphic on the title page. At the bottom, a woman was peering out of a kind of coffin floating on a lake. In the middle were three people in a rowboat. Another empty boat glowed white, and a city skyline was silhouetted against the horizon.

  “What’s it about?” Juri asked.

  “It’s a science fiction magazine,” explained Chen.

  Juri read the title. “Interzone 123?”

  “Issue 123 of Interzone magazine.”

  “What’s it doing here?”

  “Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “Hey, don’t screw with me. I’ve already had an unpleasant encounter with Grigori today.”

  “And I always thought you Russians stuck together.”

  “We’re not Russians. That asshole is Bulgarian, and I’m German.”

  “Really? What about your name?”

  “My parents thought they were being creative. Didn’t you recruit us?”

  “Denise gave me a list of the best candidates, and I ticked off the ones I felt would fit in. Three Russians... I thought that was charming somehow. I thought you might be able to perform some kind of Cossack dance for us.”

  “Haha.”

  “Is Irina from Russia, at least?”

  “I think so. I don’t know her that well.”

  “Oh, I thought she was keen on you.”

  “Don’t believe anything Grigori says.”

  “All right. To answer your question, the magazine is here because it contains a story by the famous sci-fi author Stephen Baxter. It’s called ‘The Fubar Suit.’ And guess where it’s set.”

  “Here.”

  “Exactly, on Skamandrios, aka (624) Hektor.”

  “Did you choose Hektor because of this story?”

  “No way. I bought the license for Hektor because it’s more or less ideal, and because the best asteroids in the main belt were already taken. We can mine metal and fuel here. And then I was tipped off early on about RB’s invitation to tender for the laser station, which is financing the base’s construction. I don’t build my future on old stories. Baxter wrote it last century when almost nothing was known about this asteroid.”

  “But for some reason, it’s important to you.”

  “I think it’s amusing having the story here on board.”

  Juri flipped through the book. Each page had its own plastic sleeve so that he didn’t leave any fingerprints on the paper. He found a list of all the stori
es at the beginning of the magazine. He instinctively tapped on it, but nothing happened.

  “Hahaha,” laughed Chen. “I always do that, too.”

  “Page twenty-three, that’s the story?” asked Juri.

  “It’s a misprint. The story starts on page twenty-two.”

  “A misprint, that’s crazy. Does that make it more valuable?”

  “No, several thousand of them were printed. It came out in 1982 for the first time and kept going until 2035. Then I guess paper became too expensive.”

  “Cool.”

  “See, that’s what it’s about for me. Anyone who visits me sees the book, and it starts a conversation.”

  “But it’s never been lying around on your desk before, boss.”

  “I can start conversations with you guys any time. But tomorrow the Ganymede Explorer’s landing to refuel, and the crew will be staying with us for a few days. Who knows, maybe something beautiful will happen.”

  “Don’t you start, Chen. Grigori’s always drooling whenever he sees Irina or Denise, even from a distance.”

  “I gather Grigori’s not your best buddy. But what am I supposed to do? None of you want anything to do with me. Or do you have something planned for tonight?”

  “Sorry, boss. Have fun with your science fiction magazine.”

  “Thanks, I’m looking forward to it. But the actual reason I asked you here—I need you to step in for Mike today. He’s not feeling well, and Asimov diagnosed a mild concussion.”

  Shit. It was supposed to be his day off, and he’d planned to cook for Irina—without any ulterior motives.

  “From the encounter with your fist yesterday?”

  “Maybe, although I was actually pretty gentle with him. But grabbing Denise’s ass, that’s just not cool.”

  “She probably could’ve defended herself.”

  “That may be true. But as the boss, I have a responsibility. I hope Mike learned his lesson.”