Mars Fire - Chapter XLIII - Sol 17

Previous Chapters: Chapter I , II , III , IV , V , VI , VII , VIII , IX , X , XI , XII , XIII , XIV , XV , XVI , XVII , XVIII , XIX , XX , XXI , XXII , XXIII , XXIV , XXV , XXVI , XXVII , XXVIII , XXIX , XXX , XXXI , XXXII , XXXIII , XXXIV , XXXV , XXXVI , XXXVII , XXXVIII , XXXIX , XL , XLI , XLII

They finally reached Home One just after six the next morning, with a greying eastern horizon watching over them for the last few kilometres. Burrows and the others had slept in shifts again, much like when they had left the previous morning, and while there were still plenty of yawns floating around by the time they reached the outer spread of colony structures, at least most of them were mostly awake. Burrows put in a call to the Home One perimeter net once they passed Larry and the rest of the statues, and got a list of empty bunkers in the northern field. The Exeter was carrying almost three tons of demolition from the Fort O’Neill armoury at this point in time, along with other requisitioned equipment, and no-one wanted that much firepower too close to the colony itself. Gallows Zero, which usually stored spare rovers, was still empty at that point in time, and Pope took the Exeter off the road and across the crater field until they reached the empty bunker. There were four of the bunkers in a line, of the same robust design and concrete construction as used in the vehicle hangar area just outside Admin One, and unloading the munitions pallets from the rear of the Exeter took little time. Dixon used the hangar crane to dip into the cargo bay while Pope and Reyn scanned containers, before swinging the pallets up and out and into the one corner of the bunker.

“We used to store rovers here, when there was an issue at Admin One, but the bunkers have been empty for a while now,” Burrows explained as he and Ian watched the proceedings from the hangar floor. “The science and engineering teams also have some equipment stored here somewhere, I think.”

Ian, yawning, tried to cover his mouth with his hand but only managed to bounce his gloved hand off his visor.

“I’m guessing it’s faster and easier to store things out here, than driving all the way back to the main colony? For the teams that work out here, I mean.”

“Pretty much, yes. For us it’s also handy now: if there is some accident and all that demo cooks off, then at least that new crater is out here and not in the middle of the colony. The science teams might complain about getting grit on their solar panels out here, but it’s better than us explaining to the rest of the colony why we ruptured Admin One or any of the secondary domes.” Burrows walked over to the hangar door controls as he talked, and began to punch commands into the control interface. “Which reminds me, we should probably revoke access to this bunker too, else the science teams might go prospecting with our demo and get a surprise when they hit the trigger on these packages.”

With the demolition unloaded and sealed in the bunker behind its new CDM authorisations, the Exeter turned back and resumed its journey to the main crater. Just before the main gate they met two buggies heading out, red-suited Botany teams waving as they buzzed past to check on their agri-dome experiments, and before long the Exeter was back inside the CDM bunker again.

“What’s the plan for today, boss?” Dixon, the last one to dismount, joined the others where they were clustered around one of the workshop tables. White plumes frosted the air in front of their faces as the cold hangar air swirled around them.

“I need to check in with the mining teams, for one.” Pope was already busy peeling off his EVA suit. “I had a bunch of messages from Thornton waiting for me when we got back on Monday night. Those shaft issues we had before the patrol are apparently still causing trouble.”

“Work checks for me too, actually.” Reyn was methodically undressing as well, following Pope’s lead. “There’s a whole backlog of engineering issues waiting for me at this point. Plus Kayla issues.”

Dixon cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Attention issues, let’s just call it that,” Reyn elaborated with a little smile. “That patrol was eight days, after all, and yesterday’s rush did not help either.”

“And I bet you’ll be getting a call from some Botany ladies as well today, at that rate.” Dixon grinned and batted his eyelashes at Reyn, but dropped his face back into neutral when Pope looked up sharply. “I bet they have a long list of custom plumbing needs again by now.”

“I also have work plans, and you’re part of those too, Dixon.” Burrows nodded at Ian, trying to draw attention away from Dixon and his ambiguous comments. He was already halfway out of his own suit. “I’m guessing work obligations for you too?”

“I really need to get going with the aquaponics arrays, yes. The past two weeks haven’t really produced as much as I had anticipated originally.” Ian placed his discarded EVA suit on the workshop table, alongside his helmet. “I might have a personal visit too, but I’ll try to keep that to a minimum.”

“Don’t make the minimum too short, otherwise you’ll be making a different impression on her,” Dixon chirped, and giggled to himself as he began to remove his suit. Pope snorted from the side, and Burrows felt his own grin breaking free too. Ian, to his credit, did not blush as deeply as he had the previous weeks.

“Then it sounds like we all have work things to check up on first. Let’s get started with that, and then we can check in around lunchtime to make a plan for a proper planning session.” Burrows gathered his suit and helmet up before continuing. “We have a pretty hairy mission to plan out over the next two days, so if you have any bright ideas this morning while working, stick a pin in it. We’ll need all the smart ideas we can get for this one.”

“So Dixon can stand down on this one, right?” Pope grinned at Dixon where he was busy pulling the EVA suit off his feet, and got a one-fingered reply.

“Well we need someone to stay home and look after the women and children - and Dixon’s a perfectly safe choice for that, as far as we know,” Reyn quipped from the side, and snorts of laughter rippled through the bunker. “As long as we give everyone in the colony nose plugs, of course.”

The banter continued as they cycled out of the bunker and entered the transit tunnels, which took them to Admin One and the smell of breakfast seeping out of the kitchen areas there. Reyn peeled off here, heading for the southern Section Two tunnels that would eventually lead him back to Section Three, while Burrows and the others walked on to Section One. There was little in the way of pedestrian traffic this early in the morning, and Burrows - feeling strangely self-conscious after their time in front of the cameras the previous day - wondered how many of the colonists had seen the broadcasted announcement. No-one seemed to act differently though, and they were treated to the usual greetings and smiles as they passed other people in the tunnels.

After Section One, where the rest turned off towards their respective apartments, Burrows continued on until he eventually found himself in the Section Four dome again. It was a quick walk to his own apartment from there, and within minutes he was back outside the familiar door.

Had it only been one day since the staffer had woken them up in the middle of the night? It felt like it had been much longer, with the whirlwind of changes and announcements - and long hours traveling back and forth - and yet it had been barely more than a day, according to his wrist timer.

Their apartment was still dark when he entered, and he left his bagged EVA suit and helmet at the front door before slipping into the bathroom for a shower. As often as he was exposed to the necessity of living in the same clothes for days on end, he was still not fond of the feeling.

Tilda was stirring when he finally padded into her bedroom, and the darkness was speckled with the lights and glimmers of her digital console where it hummed and clicked to itself on the other side of the room. He had just about kneeled next to the bed, to lean in for a kiss, when a hand reached out and patted at his face.

“Who is this stranger,” she mumbled at him, and he smiled and kissed into the soft, warm hand pressed to his face.

“A husband who has been very busy and somewhat absent the past few days, unfortunately.”

“ ‘s been more than a week. I’ve been counting.” The warm hand took his own, and guided it under the blankets to her belly. Her skin was warm and firm under his questing fingertips. “We’ve been missing you.”

“I know, and last night was so short too.” He laid his head on the pillow beside hers, and just breathed her scent in for a while. She smelled of soap, and softness, and something that made the fire in his belly stir despite his fatigue.

“Did you see the announcement yesterday?”

“We did, yes. Councillor Felmann had it running in Admin One, most of us watched it there.” Her hands tightened over his. Her voice was soft despite how close they were together. “I didn’t like seeing you like that. It made everything feel too real.”

“I didn’t like being up there either, if it helps.” He nuzzled in and planted a kiss on her forehead. “It wasn’t the news that we wanted, but it’s out there now. Now we have to deal with it.”

“You will have to go again, won’t you.”

The statement hung between them for many heartbeats before he could bring himself to answer.

“Yes. We need to leave on Friday morning again. It’s going to ramp up…” was as far as he got before a soft hand gently pressed his mouth shut.

“Tell me tonight, please? I can’t deal with it right now.” She held his face for a while longer before letting go. “I only went to bed a few hours ago, and my alarm is set for eight. Can you stay?”

Burrows fought the lump that was thickening in his throat, and slowly pulled away. Their hands stayed intertwined even as he shifted off the bed and back onto his haunches again.

“We have a lot to do over the next two days. I’m going to grab something light now, and then I need to get to my workshop. We really don’t have much time left.” He kissed the soft hand that still clung to his own. “What time will you be done tonight?”

In the darkness, her shape rolled over, and their hands separated. Her voice was muffled when she eventually replied.

“We should have time for a dinner break around six. I might need to continue after that.”

“I’ll be here at six, I promise.” He stood up slowly before leaning down to kiss her forehead again. He thought he smelled tears in the dark, but his own throat was so choked up that he was not sure whose it was.

Breakfast was a brief, lonely affair after that, grabbed at the kitchen table with only one of the lamps on and dialed to its lowest brightness. The wall console showed that it was not even seven in the morning yet, and Burrows mechanically forced himself through the reheated noodles while his mind churned.

He needed to get Tilda on his side, and fast. Their conversations had circled around the topic for years already, sometimes closer, sometimes further, but now - in this coming crisis - was the time when they would need an united front. There was a lot that he knew he could handle, and survive, on his own if push came to shove - but only if she was there too. They had a future planned together, a family, a place to live and flourish, a slice of freedom to call their own. As much as they disagreed on some things, the coming fight with the Union was going to be a zero-sum fight for survival, and having her against him - or even losing her - was a thought that clamped at his heart with an icy vice that did not want to shift.

Of all of his many reasons for fighting, she was the top one.

Losing her was not an option.

Tilda’s bedroom door was still shut when he left, and Burrows found himself barely noticing his surroundings as he followed the transit tunnels back to the Admin One dome. There was a thick, heavy pressure behind his eyes, and his thoughts kept circling back to what Tilda had said the one night before they left for Marsden.

I just don’t want to walk a path where we buy our freedom at some price that comes back to haunt us all.

Was that what it would come down to? Having to make a choice, and then paying a price beyond all expectations? Violence changed people - something they both agreed on - and yet she felt it was a price not worth paying, while he was more and more starting to think that it was the only option they had, whether they liked it or not.

What if surviving against the Union meant losing her?

The baby drawn on the door of the Machine Womb seemed to mock him when he finally found himself in front of it.

All your pretty lectures to Ian about paying the price for freedom, and now you’re looking for a cheap way out of a choice you’re busy making.

The workshop smelled of ozone and plastics when he let himself in, and the motion-sensor lights were slow to wake up. Empty cups around Dixon’s workstation were the only signs of the tech specialist, and the various displays and screens scrolled and blinked with updates as they too began to flicker on. The master screen, which monitored most of the printers and machines in the rest of the workshop, was the last to glow into life - and Burrows immediately spotted amber and red telltales there, across a number of the machine logs.

So much for leaving everything unattended for more than a week.

The rest of the morning became a blur of checking machines, cataloging output, and swearing at the collection of jams, misprints, leaks and other foul-ups that had managed to accumulate during their time away. The automated systems had kept things from catching fire or going totally out of control - but machine intelligence only got you so far, after all. Burrows threw himself into the work, trying to drown his thoughts about Tilda and the war in an avalanche of mundane tasks, and for a few hours at least, it seemed to work. Submerging himself in the touch, weight and smell of newly manufactured machine parts took the edge off the dread that was circling round his mind, and he was elbow-deep in the coolant oil of one of the auto-lathes when there was a buzz from the workshop’s main door.

“Enter!” Burrows yelled at the workshop’s central hub, where the closest voice pickup was. The voice commands in the workshop were fussy at best, and not yet high enough on the list of priorities for either him or Dixon to look at. He scrambled around with his clean hand to find a cleaning rag, and had just started on the oil coating his arm when the door finally opened to reveal Councillor Felmann.

“Not a bad time, I hope?” Felmann waited at the entrance until Burrows waved him in. “I heard you got back this morning, and I wanted to come check in.”

“Sorry about the mess.” Burrows gestured off to the shop behind him, before shaking the councillor’s hand. Bluish streaks of silicone oil still covered most of his right arm below the rolled-up singlesuit sleeve. “We’ve been away for too long, and some of the machines don’t like that.”

“No time to check in after Monday night either, I bet.” Felmann cast a critical eye around the space while Burrows continued cleaning himself. “I heard the CDM sent a message for you not long after our chat.”

Burrows had to stop for a moment to cast his mind back before the councillor’s words made sense to him. Monday evening, after getting back from the patrol and prepping the Exeter again, had been a blur. His brief conversation with the councillor, after finishing the rover work and before tumbling into bed with Tilda, felt like it had happened months ago.

“Right, yes. We got a Red Compad message at two in the morning, and some very eager staffers with burn cards came to wake us up.” Burrows grimaced at the memory of the shrieking alarm that had driven him from his bed. “We left about twenty minutes later, and barely made it for the announcement in Stockton. Our work here has been slacking a bit, to be honest.”

“Sounds like your CDM work has been paying off though, on the other hand. The report made it sound like you and your team stumbled onto a proper goldmine of information out there.” Felmann held up his compad. “There’s been a lot of talk after that announcement.”

“We were hoping for a simple patrol, to get Ian tested and certified, but it seems the guys upstairs were not listening to our plans. The Marsden development was a surprise for everyone.” Burrows got the last of the oil off his arm, and pulled up two chairs. He waited for Felmann to take a seat at Dixon’s station before seating himself. “How did the certification hike go with your team?”

“No surprises - at least not like the one you dug up.” Felmann’s smile was brief before fading. “Some hiccups, some fumbles, but everyone pulled through. I think people are starting to wake up now, to what is coming. There has been quite a bit of talk of more volunteers for militia work as well. At least on a starting level - we don’t have anyone else here who can operate at the same level as your Minuteman team.”

Burrows could only shake his head. Anyone who was still in doubt at this point, about the intentions of the Union, would have to be suffering from serious tunnel vision - or delusion.

“Ian did well though, yes?” Felmann cocked his head to the side when he continued, before tapping a finger against his left upper arm. “The admin staff tells me he has joined your unit now.”

Burrows gave a brief recap of the Marsden patrol, including the shootout with the Union rover on the way out, and Ian’s actions during it. Felmann listened intently and nodded along, and had a faraway look in his eyes by the time Burrows finished.

“He sounds like he’s on the right path. If you can get him to understand why we fight, then it will be a lot easier to get him to agree as well.”

“He’s young though. I’m worried that he won’t understand what it will take, and that he’ll come to regret it in time.” Burrows thought back to their discussions in the rover the night before. “I offered him the chance to step back and leave, as well. He’s going to take some time to think it over, which is at least a good sign.”

“Jack, how many of us truly understand the way life works at that age? He’s a lovely young man, but he is also exactly that: a young man, from a background that was soft and gentle.” Felmann sighed. “He can’t make an informed decision, not really. He’ll do what every young man does when there is war on the horizon: he’ll choose with his heart, and pay with his soul.”

Burrows thought of his own decisions that had first taken him off the regular, well-trodden paths years before, and realised that he could not disagree with the councillor.

“I’d appreciate it if you could talk to him, in that case. He’s heard my perspective, but a second opinion from another weary old man might be good for him.” Burrows grinned at the councillor, and got a mischievous smile in return. “Some of us had to make that decision on our own, and it’s not always clear what is right and wrong when you don’t have someone to offer another perspective.”

“Pfft, there’s no such thing as perspective.” Felmann snorted and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “People just rationalise what they want to see and believe, and then find reasons afterwards to make it valid. Everything else is just noise. Once you’ve made up your mind, the only perspective that matters is your own.”

“That’s the type of thinking that got the Union into its current state of mind, isn’t it?”

“And where do you think your decision to fight comes from?” Felmann winked at Burrows before levering himself up from his chair. Burrows bit his tongue, and just had to shake his head as he too got up. “I’ll go talk to him. A trip out to Botany will be good for me, I think. I’ll say hello to Tilda as well, if I see her.”

The men shook hands again, and the councillor left. Burrows watched the workshop door slide shut, and found himself staring at the grey surface for a long while afterwards as his thoughts churned.

Who had Felmann actually been talking about?

The rest of the morning slipped past quickly enough once Burrows got back to work, although it took a while for his thoughts to settle again. It was only minutes before one o’clock that he remembered to check for messages from the team. Everyone had checked in at some point earlier that morning to report the same thing: they were catching up on work, but looking forward to a lunch break. Ian was the one exception: someone had brought him lunch, and he wanted to push through and get his work done. Burrows had an inward laugh at that, and agreed to meet the rest in Admin One for lunch at one.

Burrows was on his way to Admin One, the transit tunnel flooring clunking underfoot, when Reyn caught up with him from behind. The blond engineer was in one of his olive singlesuits again, and looked decidedly sharp compared to the dusty khaki singlesuit Burrows was in.

“Busy morning?”

“Busy morning,” Reyn nodded. “One of the Island League contracts has hit a bottleneck, and we’ve had to throw out most of our old prototypes and start from scratch. There are a lot of big emotions floating through the project team at the moment.”

“Good thing it’s all digital.” Burrows held the airlock open when they got to the end of the transit tunnel, and followed Reyn in. “Imagine if those prototypes were already through the slow-gate before you discovered this.”

“Or if they were stuck on a rocket heading back.” Reyn shook his head at the thought. “We only got the contract because we can prototype ourselves here, with our own machines, before sending the final digital results back. Our issue now is that we’re going to start running out of prototyping material - and then our digital work is useless, because everything is contractually obligated to be tested with physical units first.”

Burrows had worked on similar contracts before, which formed a large part of the distributed, cottage-industry manufacturing base of many of the Liberty Zones. Given the diverse requirements that each colony had to survive in the Martian environment, it made sense for them to be autonomous - or as much as reasonably possible - when it came to small-scale manufacturing and maintenance work. This, in turn, had led to a thriving distributed industrial base, where a hundred different shops could churn out work faster than a single mega-factory.

With the ease and low cost of sending digital information between planets, digital solutions like the ones Reyn was working on were easy to outsource. No-one cared where the designs were made, after all, as long as they could be plugged into any standard fabricator workshop to produce components and sub-systems. Large-scale physical manufacturing, on the other hand, had the ever-present issue of logistical constraints - both the physical shipping and the costs involved - and for that, only the big players had the finances to play between worlds.

“I guess we’re going to have to up our recycling game, if this continues. Start hoarding energy too.” Burrows hauled the airlock open once it had matched the Admin One pressure, and was rewarded with the smell of lunch floating in. “Or start making plans to beg, borrow and steal from our neighbours.”

“If this contract fails, the financial loss will hit a bunch of the other cross-subsidies. It’s a knock-on effect now. The one system fails, which affects the next, and the next, and on it goes.” Reyn was shaking his head as they walked on, heading into the main dome. “We’ve never been self-sufficient here, not truly, and I think the Union has known that all along. They don’t even need to rush now, they can just let the clock tick and watch us get weaker by the day.”

“They’ll jump before we get the gate and rail lines back, that’s for certain. They have the same dependency issues as us, though. Without their gates and the ship convoys between here and Luna, they would also starve off.” Burrows led the way to the agreed kitchen area, dodging a gaggle of teenagers who were huddled together in the one corridor. “The problem is just that they have more gates than us, so we can’t really hit them back the same way.”

“It would be an interesting what-if scenario to consider at some point, if we had time.” Reyn’s brows furrowed as he walked. “Look at the Union’s strengths, look at their weaknesses, and find out what the critical dependencies are. Then see what happens when you hit them in those soft spots.”

“Probably the same thing that is happening to us.” Burrows spotted the table where Pope was already waiting. “We slowly run out of energy, and things fall apart by increments. The cold and the dark creeps in, and every piece of life we brought to this place dies off. You know this planet doesn’t want us here.”

Reyn had no answer to that.

Next chapter: TBC