Mars Nation 2 Read online

  Today must be his lucky day. He didn’t have to wait even thirty minutes for the Senator to show up. He was wearing dark glasses, which were probably sensible considering the glaring, blue lights used around the ship. They still looked a little odd though. Rick let him float past, acting as if he was reading something. After waiting ten minutes, he also entered the fitness room. The Senator was in the middle of weight training. The fitness room was relatively busy. Three women were sitting on various devices and chatting. Rick decided to stretch out under a sun lamp for a burst of vitamin D. His health was vital to him.

  He watched the other Rick. The man wasn’t especially attractive, and he was sweating profusely. Every time he pushed the bar forward, he made a grunting sound. Nonetheless—or maybe because of that—the three women kept shooting him admiring glances. Women are so transparent, he thought. All a man needed to have was power and money. The world was bad but predictable. That suited him just fine.

  The Senator stood up, glancing around. The two treadmills were free, but only one exercise bike. Please, not the bike, Rick pleaded silently, and the Senator fulfilled his wish. That was the signal. Rick stood up and took a meandering route to the second treadmill. It looked as if he had just happened to be heading there, too. He positioned himself over the running area and strapped himself in place. The pressure with which the strap pressed him into the padding was adjustable.

  Rick set the treadmill to a comfortable speed and pushed the start button. The exercise almost felt like actual walking under Earth’s normal gravity. He couldn’t really run, though. As soon as both his legs left the surface, the machine’s framework would mercilessly press him downward because he wasn’t strong enough to jump repeatedly. He looked to the side. The Senator was running. The man really could do anything.

  This was his chance. “Good morning, Senator,” he said quietly.

  The man next to him didn’t answer. Rick studied him. The Senator was staring obstinately straight ahead, acting as if he hadn’t heard anything. He obviously wanted to be left in peace, but Rick didn’t have time for that. He would now lay his cards out on the table—of course without revealing that his information came from the bug he had planted.

  “Does your aunt know that you’re gay?” he asked at the same volume level as before. “I will increase my volume for my next question.”

  The Senator whipped his head toward Rick, but didn’t stop running. “What do you want?” he hissed.

  “Your aunt seems to be a conservative old lady. Would she enjoy learning what her nephew is ‘up to’ with other men?”

  “Leave my aunt out of this. You’ve got some nerve. I will have you arrested. You’re tangling with the wrong person here.”

  “Senator, I will have to be very specific about this, although I hardly know how to put it into words. You are fucking a black man, and I can prove it.”

  The Senator stopped his treadmill. “You...” Ballantine noticed that, without the sound of his running, everyone in the room could hear him. He pressed the start button once more. “Who are people more likely to believe? You or me?” he finally asked.

  “I fished a used condom out of your toilet, my good man. It should be easy enough to verify who wore it and who the man was who was being pleasured with it.”

  The Senator snapped his head to the front, his face flushing.

  Rick knew exactly what he was thinking about. He was weighing which was worse, the scandal or the blackmailer. Rick had to be careful not to push his luck.

  “I understand,” Rick said. “I don’t have anything against gays. To each his own. I sometimes envy people like you. Women are so complicated. I had just hoped you might meet me halfway on one or two things.”

  The Senator turned back toward him. Now he had him. “And what do you want?”

  “I would like to be your assistant.”

  “How do you mean that?”

  “If you become a quasi-president in the future, I want to be your chief of staff. You set the direction, and I’ll take care of the little stuff. That way you’ll have more time to take care of your personal happiness. I’ll lighten your load.”

  Ballantine’s face twitched.

  Rick knew he had to be careful to not apply too much pressure.

  “And you’ll hand the evidence over to me?”

  “My dear Senator, you don’t actually think I would do that, do you? I will give you my loyalty, and I swear to never attack your position. It’s a win-win situation.”

  The Senator sighed. “I’ll think about it. Now let me finish working out in peace.”

  “Of course, Mr. Ballantine. Did you know that we have the same first name? What an amazing omen!”

  “Get out of here!” the Senator hissed, and sighed again, louder than he had the first time.

  Sol 71, Mars surface

  Today was the first day that Ewa got out of bed. She had slightly overestimated the company and its love for its passengers. There was only one cabin as spacious as the one she was in. It was probably the captain’s quarters. The others she had glanced inside were significantly smaller. Practically every room was filled to the ceiling with various provisions. Someone had worked hard to maximize the use of all available space in this ship.

  An elevator connected the ship’s floors. She was allowed to use it, though she was still locked out of the uppermost level. This, of course, was where the bridge was located. Ewa was more interested in the storage rooms that had been set up in the lower part of the ship anyway. Most of the containers in which the supplies were stored were extensively labeled—very practical—but she wondered why some had no labels at all.

  The ship’s comp wouldn’t have agreed to give her comprehensive information about anything, but it also didn’t prevent her from wandering around or checking the contents of the containers.

  Ewa had just opened a double door. The room beyond it was taller than the others, and it smelled of rubber and oil. The storeroom’s contents were concealed behind heavy tarps that were fastened to the floor. She cautiously tugged one of the tarps to the side and found herself standing next to a tire that was almost as tall as she was. This must be the garage!

  Ewa strode through the room. “Can you tell me what this is, Friday?”

  ‘I could compare the components to my image archive.’

  “Do it.”

  ‘The tire might belong to a loader.’

  “A loader?”

  ‘You need one if you want to move a lot of dirt.’

  “As in digging something up?”

  ‘Or burying it.’

  “Good.”

  Ewa moved deeper into the room, pulling aside other tarps. “And this one here?” She saw some kind of horizontal tower constructed out of metal struts. It reminded Ewa of electrical-service pylons on Earth.

  ‘Might be a drill.’

  Ewa heard the echo of her voice. The room seemed to be packed full, but acoustically it sounded emptier than the other ones. “A drill? They planned to drill for water?” she asked.

  ‘Presumably. Scientists have theorized that there is a water table deep underground.’

  This would save them having to search for surface water deposits, like the one Rebecca and Theo had found, Ewa thought. They could be more flexible in their decision about where to build their colony. For example, this spot would work. There were probably mineral deposits around here. Once one’s water supply was secure, then other resources could move up on the priority list.

  Ewa felt an idea dawning inside her. How long until the spaceship with the colonists arrives? She figured she had at least two months until then. During that time, she would try to steal the machines. This would at least make up in part for the damage she had caused—as long as that thing inside her brain didn’t interfere.

  6/5/2042, Spaceliner 1

  The group convened in the Senator’s cabin. Rick was impressed. The room measured at least twelve square meters. There was a sofa against one wall in front of which sat a
low table and two chairs. The bed was located against the other wall. The wall above the bed contained a window. A window? Rick visualized the shape of the ship. That’s impossible. It must be a giant screen that was framed in metal similar to a porthole. Rick felt an urge to breathe against the glass. If it were really a window, it would fog up. But had the designers perhaps come up with a way to simulate that effect to complete the illusion?

  “Would you please take a seat?” the Senator asked, gesturing at the couch and chairs.

  Of those in attendance, Rick only knew Maggie, the pilot. He had chatted a little at some point with the Japanese man, Tetsu, who was representing the scientists on board. Then there was Jean Warren, the ship’s official captain, who tended to stay in the shadows in public settings. What might her secret be? Rick didn’t know where her cabin was, which meant he was watching her without the benefit of his bugs. He hoped that his new role would open up new possibilities for him.

  He floated over to the others and sank quite meekly onto the edge of the sofa. One of the chairs was automatically kept available for the Senator.

  “Your aunt won’t be joining us?” Rick asked.

  “She isn’t feeling well. The matters on Earth...”

  “Oh.”

  “That is what we’re going to discuss today,” the Senator said. They could tell that he was bored by this meeting and that he wanted to get through it quickly. “First of all, I would like to introduce you to my new deputy.” He pointed at Rick, who humbly nodded his head.

  “My aunt’s health requires that I dedicate more time to tending to her needs, which is why I will be involved even less than I have been in the ship’s day-to-day activities. Due to his excellent academic achievements and his dedicated service on board this ship, I have selected Rick to help me during this time. I also hope that he will have a closer connection with the crew than I could ever have because of my background. I believe he enjoys the trust of all the service providers on the ship, something that we will need all the more during these difficult times.”

  ‘Service providers,’ eh? He probably almost said slaves, Rick thought. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t need Ballantine’s respect, which he would never receive anyway.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ballantine,” he said. “I will do my best to be worthy of this honor you have given me.”

  “I hope so,” the Senator said as he stared at him. Ballantine’s eyes flashed with contempt and fury.

  Rick was fully aware that the Senator would use any chance that came along to get rid of him, and then destroy him. He couldn’t give Ballantine that opportunity.

  “I would like to ask all of you to support my deputy as fully as possible. He speaks in my name. Now, is there any news from Earth?” Ballantine asked, shifting his attention to Tetsu.

  “No, unfortunately. We have exhausted all of our investigative options, and our distance from Earth increases with each passing day. We can safely say that there is no electromagnetic activity being sent from Earth into space.”

  “Not even radio or television waves?”

  “We can’t say for certain that no local stations are operational, but nothing’s beaming into space with sufficient power for us to pick it up.”

  “And what about the other things that civilizations generate?”

  “The concentration of climate-harming gases seems to be holding steady, but that would be expected in the short term. The atmosphere’s circulation patterns have remained equally constant. There are no emergency signals for the time being.”

  “Perhaps they have all come to an agreement not to communicate with us anymore, and in reality, life down there is continuing like normal.”

  “I know you aren’t serious about that, Senator Ballantine, but we actually tested that theory. We believe it would be impossible for such a radio silence to be orchestrated. We would at least be picking up the inter-communication between Earth’s satellites.”

  “The mystery seems unsolvable for the time being.”

  “From this far away, yes. In six months, we could decide to not enter Mars orbit and turn right back around. That would allow us to find out for ourselves what happened.”

  “If my information is correct, there is only one small problem with that. We wouldn’t have enough fuel to land.”

  “That is correct, Senator. We would need significantly more fuel to land on Earth than we would to land on Mars. Normally, we would be refueled in orbit around Earth.”

  “And yet presumably nobody would be expecting us.”

  “Right, Senator. The science division endorses following the original plan and landing on Mars. Once we have produced sufficient fuel there, we could consider returning to Earth.”

  “How long would that take?”

  “The next launch window would be in two years.”

  “Good, that’s all clear then. Rick, how is morale?”

  “In general, good. During the first couple of days after the announcement, the percentage of sick requests rose, but that has now returned to normal levels. To avoid any long-term effects, we should guarantee continuous psychological care.”

  “Organize that.”

  “Gladly,” Rick said.

  Along with the psychologists, he would personally visit every crew member. He still had two bugs to distribute.

  “Jean, are there any particular concerns from your end?”

  “No, everything’s running smoothly,” the captain replied.

  Rick’s overall impression of Jean was quite strange. It felt like she wasn’t really there, as if she wanted to disappear. With her gray clothing, gray hair, and gray eyes, she practically blended into the sofa upholstery. What was happening to her? He thought her name, Jean Warren, rang a bell. Wasn’t she a famous NASA astronaut?

  “Is there anything else... Maggie?”

  The pilot nodded. “As soon as possible, I would like to establish contact with the NASA crew on Mars. I think there is an opportunity to collaborate with them.”

  Two grooves formed across Ballantine’s forehead.

  “I must say that in my experience, collaboration with governmental entities—”

  “But that government no longer exists,” she interrupted. “They are just humans now, like us.”

  “Certainly, contact them. But don’t make any agreements or promises until you have spoken with me. Or with Rick, of course.”

  Sol 77, Mars surface

  Ewa sat up halfway, propping herself on the cot with her elbows. She studied her body. The emergency medical assistant had just helped her change her bandages, a process that, thanks to strong painkillers, was less stressful than she had feared. Her body still looked quite battered, as if a prizefighter had pounded her with all his might. And yet all the wounds were of her own making, because she had refused to give up. It was amazing what people were capable of.

  The medical program was satisfied with the progress of her recuperation. The infection in the skin on her shoulders and thighs had been curbed. In those spots where there were no injuries, her skin looked unnaturally pale. To prevent the risk of developing a vitamin D deficiency, she was supposed to receive ultraviolet exposure, but the medical program still advised against that. Ewa would have enjoyed taking a walk across the planet’s surface again, but the software wouldn’t agree to that either. It insisted that the skin covering her joints in particular needed more time to heal, and a spacesuit was especially ill-suited for that. The program gave her another ten days for her treatment, and after that, she could—and must—leave the ship.

  At least there was a fitness room. She had to clear it out first, but now she was able to work out every day. It had taken her a while to figure out which exercises worked well with her injuries. Compared to the past few months, this ship felt like paradise. And yet Ewa had to admit that she was gradually growing bored. She simply wasn’t made for sitting around. She wanted to figure out a way to get closer to her goal. She had to somehow gain access to the ship’s comp. This was the o
nly way she would be able to steal Spaceliner 0’s drill and loader.

  But, first things first. She had to take care of Friday. She couldn’t let the thing in her head become a threat to her again. She needed the weapon that Friday had described.

  Ewa sat up on the cot and let her legs dangle to the floor.

  “The weapon I can use to keep you in check. What is it exactly, and where can I find it?” she asked out loud.

  ‘I was referring to a taser,’ Friday replied in her own voice, as had become the norm. ‘It shoots a metal dart at your victim and delivers a shock to him. It is a very practical weapon to use on board a ship. Shooting a pistol would be much too dangerous for the hull.’

  “And a taser shot isn’t lethal?”

  ‘Not for you. It is quite painful, though. You will writhe with cramps, but you will survive.’

  “And you, Friday?”

  ‘The miniaturized circuits I run on will be toast.’

  “Couldn’t I just stick my finger in an outlet?”

  ‘You’d run the risk of being killed, and we don’t want that,’ Friday replied.

  “Haha! You’ve put me in danger often enough.”

  ‘I only wanted to kill the others. That was simply my assignment.’

  “If the MfE project fails, I’ll also die eventually.”

  ‘Yes, that was a weakness in the plan. I was always afraid that moment would come. I possess a survival instinct, after all.’

  “I’m lucky you do. And how do I get my hands on a taser?”

  ‘The weapons must be located in one of the supply crates.’

  “There are hundreds of boxes on this ship. Do I have to open every one that isn’t labeled?”

  ‘That’s all you can do.’

  “So you have no idea where they might be? You promised me that I would find a weapon here I could use to shut you down.”

  ‘That claim was based on logical considerations. Every colony requires an executive authority that has the means to enforce its wishes. As long as humans live here inside domes, projectile weapons will be perilous for all sides, which is why you need something like tasers.’