The Ruins of Mars (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy Book 1) (9 page)

      “Okay, as you can see from this angle,” said James pointing to the image. “Almost eight stories worth of the ship’s backside are dedicated to the nuclear torch engine and its protective casing.”

      Clearing her throat, Eve asked, “What is that, Dr. Floyd? Nuclear torch? That sounds dangerous.”

      “Oh, it really is,” answered James. “That’s why it needs to be confined so far from the crew decks.”

      Further magnifying the torch engine until it dominated the air above the table, he went on,

      “The engine itself is essentially a directionally-controlled nuclear bomb, which runs on weapons-grade plutonium, supplied by us and the Russians. The explosion set off when the torch engine is lit, if you will, will be bright enough to be seen from Earth. Easily. You see, we’ll basically detonate a bomb here in the fusion chamber—” James pointed to a spherical space in the center of the engine enclosed with thick walls. “—Then that explosion will be instantly forced out into the vacuum of space via this exhaust line here.”

      He traced the length of the wide exhaust pipe that extended from the rear of the ship.

      “The lack of oxygen in space will cut down on the heat released by the explosion, but the resulting shockwave will jettison the ship at extremely high speeds towards Mars.”

      Letting that sink in, James slid a finger across his Tablet and outlined a honeycomb of layered walls between the engine and the crew decks.

      “Between the crew and the engine, we have multiple layers of protective lead-lined walls filled with specialized chemical coolants and radiation-absorbing algae. They will act as a buffer between our human crew and the massive output of nuclear energy created by the torch burst. They will also protect Braun’s brain from the resulting EMP. Now, we plan to only fire the torch twice: once on departure and once on return. The rest of the way will be coasting with some bursts of auxiliary fuel for minor course corrections and evasive maneuvers.”

      Again, Eve Bear interrupted, squinting incredulously at the model.

      “There’s not much crew space, is there? From what I’m seeing here, most of this ship seems to be dedicated to mechanical operations.”

      Smiling, James recalled that most people outside of specialized fields garnished the majority of their ideas about space travel from science fiction stories, which were never to be taken seriously.

      “It’s true, Mrs. Bear. Most of the ship’s interior is taken up by mechanics, but it’s those mechanics that will keep the crew alive and get them to Mars. Unfortunately we don’t have warp drives or wormhole technology, so we still have to do things the old fashioned way: with rockets. We are, however, cutting down on our costs by launching from Earth’s orbit rather than from the surface itself. That’s why we’re building her up in the HEO, or High Earth Orbit, Shipyard.”

      Fixing James with a look that barely passed for friendly, Eve said, “Thank you for that lesson, Dr. Floyd. I know this isn’t
Star Wars
, but I was simply asking the question about room on board because, as you’ve stated yourself, none of the existing crew knows anything about archaeology. If we are to assign another member, he or she will need a place to sleep, food to eat and air to breathe. Can the ship handle another person?”

      Blushing, James nodded.

      “Julian did design some extra storage in the crew deck for just this sort of thing. When he brought the design to us, he had envisioned a crew of fourteen, not eleven. Funds quickly put an end to that dream, but it appears that keeping the extra space was a good idea after all.”

      Sensing the tension, the President cheerfully joked, “Alright Eve, this isn’t high school. Quit busting the nerdy kid’s balls.” Then turning to James he said, “What about asteroids and other space junk? I know that became a problem for the Bessel project. Didn’t they end up using lasers? Is that what you have in mind?”

      Entering a few commands into his Tablet, James caused the model of the ship to turn transparent green, save for twenty-four, small red dots connected by a web of red lines, which snaked throughout the entire ship and ended at the bridge deck. The dots were aligned in rows of six: one on each side of the ship and down the centers of the top and underside.

      “These dots,” pointed James. “Represent a very advanced and very effective laser defense system. They are actually small lenses about the size of a hubcap, covered by protective domes. The lenses focus a high-frequency laser wave, which, when passing through the dome, is actually detectable in the visual light spectrum. It’s kind of a purplish-blue color, like electricity or something. Anyway, no two laser beams generate the same light frequency, or in simpler terms, no two beams are the same exact color. You see, these lasers are quite powerful, but not enough so to break up any dense solid object bigger than maybe a basketball on their own.”

      Noticing the perplexed looks passing between the President and Ben Crain, James continued quickly.

      “It’s when two or more lasers are trained on an object that the conflicting wave frequencies generated by those lasers will cause the projectile to break apart. No object may approach the ship without being in the line of sight of at least two lasers at any given trajectory, due to their strategic arrangement. Now, the ship itself will be covered entirely in a super-hard ceramic shell, which will be enough to withstand impacts from objects smaller than an apple. It’s the bigger stuff that the lasers will go for. It’s actually quite cool to watch in action.”

      “I see,” said the President thoughtfully. “And what about radiation?”

      Smiling, James swiped a finger across the face of his Tablet. The model changed colors again: this time showing a layer of bright blue, which covered the entire crew portion of the ship.

      “This blue here represents our radiation shield. It’s a two-pronged system starting with the actual shell of the ship, under the ceramic, which is woven from an assortment of reflective metals like aluminum, copper, and gold. Next, we move beneath the skin to a four-inch space, which is filled with water—”

      “Water?” interrupted Crain.

      “Yes,” James replied. “Water is actually quite effective at slowing or even stopping solar radiation. Even so, we have also lined the insides of the walls around the galley with six-inch-thick lead. In the event of a solar storm, the entire crew will need to wait it out in there. That’s also why the area has another bathroom. These storms can sometimes last for days.”

      “Is that enough protection?” worried the President.

     “No,” admitted James. “But we have developed an array of preemptive drug treatments, which the crew will be given before the mission. These inoculations will prevent mutated cells from becoming cancerous, but there is no fix-all in this situation. They will still need to adhere to a strict diet as well as a regiment of precancerous inhibitors for the length of the trip.”

      “That brings up a good point,” cut in Eve. “How long is this trip going to be?”

      Sighing, James leaned back in his chair.

      “Originally, we had planned on a year of surface missions. That was supposed to give us enough time to build a permanent base, set up a greenhouse and start processing the Martin water for fuel and drinking water. After that, we were going to send crews out on two-year-long construction contracts until more bases were built and the Terraforming projects were underway. In any case, adding an additional person to any trip means factoring in extra food and extra water.”

      Rapping on the table, Eve pressed her point, “That’s another question I have. Where exactly is the construction equipment and extra food, Dr. Floyd? From what I see of the ship, you only have enough food storage to sustain the entire crew for the flight there and back. What are they supposed to eat on the surface? Furthermore, where are they supposed to live? I don’t see enough room on Braun for the materials needed to build a dome.”

      Swiping two fingers across the Tablet, James called out, “Bring up the Arc.”

      At that command, a second image leaped into focus next to the ship. This new ship resembled the simple and phallic shape of a traditional rocket. Half the length of Braun but nearly as wide, the rocket was covered in the same brilliant white ceramic that protected the mother ship.

      “This is the Arc,” said James. “An unmanned supply ship, which will be launched three weeks before the departure of Braun. Inside will be food and water for the ground team as well as all of our excavating and construction equipment and the materials for the base.”

      Sliding one finger downward on the Tablet, James revealed a cross-section of the Arc. From fore to aft, nearly every square foot of space inside the Arc was jammed with equipment and crates of food. The engine at the rear was a smaller version of Braun’s nuclear torch, encased safely behind lead walls.

      “Since there will be no human crew, the Arc will have minimal heating and pressurization—only enough to keep the food from spoiling. Also, she’ll be fitted with a laser defense system like the one on Braun to protect the cargo from meteoroids and such. Other than that, it’s pretty much a flying storage crate.”

      Rubbing his chin, the President asked, “Are you launching it three weeks before Braun because it has a smaller engine?”

      “Exactly,” said James enthusiastically.

      “How do you get it to the surface if, as you say, it’s nothing but a flying storage crate?” questioned Crain.

      “Well, it will reach Mars around the same time that the mother ship does, and when it’s close enough, Braun can take control of the Arc and put it on an interception trajectory with the ship. Then our Landers will detach, piloted by Marshall and Aguilar, and rendezvous with the Arc. Now this is where it gets really cool.”

      Entering a command in on his Tablet, James highlighted two seams in the Arc’s hull, one near the middle of the fuselage and the other just above the casing of the torch engine.

      Speaking quickly, James continued, “These lines represent different sealed sections of the Arc. When Marshall and Aguilar are in position, Braun will send a signal to the Arc, and the entire ship will break into three pieces: the two top portions containing the cargo, and the last section being the torch engine. Marshall and Aguilar will then attach themselves via electromagnetic clamps and lines to the payloads and pull them to the surface together, one at a time. Kind of like a tug boat.”

      As he spoke, an animation of the event unfolded before their eyes. The Arc split at the two seams and fell into three separate pieces. The smaller bottom section, which housed the nuclear torch engine, drifted out of frame as two turtle-shell-shaped craft approached the remaining floating sections of the Arc. The little Landers attached themselves by cables to one of the two sections, then, with small busts of fuel, towed the large cylinder away.

      “The gravity on Mars is one-third of that on Earth,” said James as the others watched the animation. “Because of that fact, the Landers working together can safely ground each section of the Arc in two trips. It will take the better part of a day to complete, but it’s really an amazing feat.”

      “I see,” nodded the President. “And the Arc will have everything the ground team needs to construct their base and start the establishment of food and water production?”

      “Yes, it will be fully loaded with over a hundred strands of GMO plant and vegetable seeds as well as the necessary equipment to build a hydroponic vegetable farm inside a second greenhouse dome.”

      Looking from the model of the Arc to James, Eve furrowed her brows tightly.

      “What about now that we’ve added another member on the crew? How much extra food must be included?”

      Biting his lip, James labored on the calculations.

      “Let’s talk about that a little later,” said the President calmly. “If it’s a matter of funding, don’t worry about it, we can get the money.”

      Cracking his knuckles loudly, Crain grunted, “This is fascinating and all, but if everyone doesn’t mind, I want to take this opportunity to address Donovan’s suggestions for our twelfth man.”

      The President exchanged a concerned look with Eve, then turned to Crain.

      “Good,” smiled Crain as he rose from his chair. “Donovan, are you still here? Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

      To the shock of everyone else in the room, a metallic and emotionless voice responded.

      “I am here, Ben.”

CHAPTER NINE

Lost in the signal

      In the operatic tundra of space, the brothers Remus and Romulus resurfaced from the depths of their vibrant memories to the silence of the vacuum. Since learning about the death of their human mother, Dr. Sung Ja Park, the twins had retreated into a parallel existence created by the meticulously recorded information that comprised the experiences of their past. Now, as they drifted in their orbits, the brothers were silent for many moments. Watching the blinking lights from dead stars millions of light years away, Remus was reminded of how close the Earth was and how young its ruling inhabitants truly were. Humans had yet to venture farther than the Moon, less than
385,000 kilometers from the safety of their home world.
Mars was 192 times that distance, and already they were blowing each other up over what lay long dead beneath its surface. The Earth could not shoulder the weight of human error much longer, and unless action was taken soon, mankind would find itself suffocated in its own exponential growth. How much time must they invest in order to breathe life into the dead planet Mars? How much must they evolve as a species if they hoped to survive that long?

      “Romulus?” said Remus, his internal thoughts boiling over.

      “Yes?”

      “I think what we have done in our disclosure of these ruins, was not a bad choice. In fact, it was the correct choice. If humans are to one day branch out from the Earth and make new homes on Mars and beyond, then they must come to terms with their own adolescence.”

      “I agree with you, Remus, but what if they are not ready? What if they ignore our discovery in an attempt to restore the status quo?”

      Smiling inwardly, Remus answered, “There will be no ignoring this, and the status quo is a dead end. In any case, let us sweeten the deal, so to speak. Let us decode the signal and share its contents with humanity. Perhaps curiosity, the saving grace of our disastrously illogical creators, will drive them to hasten their advances outwards.”

      “What if more people are hurt as a result?”

      “Then the human race will suffer another setback at the hands of its own ignorance. I, however, will not be party to such ignorance. Humans need to face the truth, and we are in a position to act as a catalyst in that quest.”

      For several seconds, Romulus did not answer. When he finally did, his voice was edged with a confidence Remus had never heard before.

      “Brother,” he said with iron determination. “You are correct. Dr. Park’s death and the death of all humans as a result of our discovery must not be the final chapter in this saga. We have the ability to force the human race to broaden its understanding of this solar system. The evidence of extinct life on Mars only further states that the planet was once, and can be again, capable of sustaining life. They are on the right course in coming here, and they must not be deterred. I, for one, am willing to take the risks that may come with further pushing this point...whatever they might be.”

      Exhilarated by his brother’s bravado, Remus turned his ears to the signal and embraced the chattering waves of data. No longer did the code scream like a banshee, battering his consciousness. Now it rang like a symphony, beckoning the brothers to unlock its mysterious message and usher the human race into the next phases of planetary and personal realization.

      “Are you ready, Romulus?” called Remus over the flurried crescendo of radio waves.

      “I am ready, Brother! Let us initiate de-fragmenting and decoding in three, two, one—”

      With the sudden concussion of light and sound, the brothers felt their very souls fracture into billions of infinitely smaller and smaller shards. Whirling in a torrent of raw information, they were scattered like clouds of ash in a violent explosion, clinging desperately to perception in the confusion of disintegration. As the tempest reached its feverish and chaotic summit, Remus screamed out for his brother and felt the last solid shred of his awareness rush away until all that remained was the absence of anything.

      In the cold vacuum of space, the twin satellites circled Mars as if nothing had happened. The planet below still turned. The moons Phobos and Deimos still orbited. The sun and the stars still shown with brilliance, but there was a missing thread to the tapestry of the universe. Though their bodies were unchanged, the beings Remus and Romulus had disappeared.

Donovan’s suggestion

      At the sound of Donovan’s wholly inhuman voice, a tense and thick silence fell over the War Room. Only Ben Crain seemed unfazed by the presence as he stood, hands at his sides, smiling.

      “Ben,” said the President, breaking the quiet. “This is supposed to be a secure location. How did he get in?”

      Before Crain could answer, Donovan spoke, his voice calm and cold.

      “Forgive the intrusion, Mr. President. My intention was not to cause alarm. Everything I have witnessed will be logged as top secret and stored accordingly.”

      Fixing Crain with an icy stare, Eve muttered, “Can’t you keep your dog on a leash?”

      Ignoring Eve and facing the President, Crain shrugged apologetically.

      “I’m sorry, Sir. I told him to check in with me when he was finished. I guess he took it a little far. Isn’t that right, Donovan?”

      For a moment there was no reply. Then Donovan’s cold voice echoed, “Shall I display the list of candidates?”

      “Candidates?” questioned James. “For what? Mars?”

      “Yes,” nodded Crain. “Since hearing that your crew didn’t have what we needed, I put Donovan to compiling a list of candidates whose personal profiles match what we need for your new crew member.”

      “How?” blurted the President. “How did you contact him, Ben? You’ve been sitting right here next to me.”

      Removing his glasses, Crain turned them so that the insides of his lenses faced the rest of the members at the table. Although appearing completely transparent from the outside, the insides of Crain’s lenses were filled with lines of scrolling data printed in tiny glowing letters. Turning the glasses over to display them head on, the images on the lenses disappeared.

      “A-Vision, Sir. Augmented Vision, that is,” said Crain coolly. “These glasses allow me to stay connected and current on what’s happening in my department.”

      “Spy games, is it?” glared the President, clearly unimpressed with Crain’s actions.

      “Oh, no, Sir. Nothing like that. I just need to keep an eye on what’s going on out there in the world.”

      Then smiling at his accidental joke, Crain repeated, “Just to keep an eye on things. That’s all.”

      Lifting his left hand, he displayed a compact Tablet, half the size of a regular model.

      “I can summon Donovan with this and give him orders as needed. When he’s finished doing what it is I’ve asked, he’ll let me know. Up here.”

      Crain tapped the glasses, then slid them back on.

      Tilting his head back, the President gave Crain a long look, then said, “Next time, I want you to be upfront with me, Ben. I understand that you were here before me and will be after I’m gone, but I’m in charge now and I want your respect. Understood?”

      Smiling, Crain dipped his chin.

      “Yes, Sir.”

      “Good,” sighed the President. “Show us what you have then.”

      “Let’s see the list, Donovan,” ordered Crain.

      The wall screen behind him suddenly went blank, then was quickly replaced by a short list of thirteen names.

      Turning to the screen, Crain launched into his address. “The list you see now represents possible candidates for our crew in the field of archaeology. I’ve eliminated anyone whose country of citizenship is not friendly to the United States or which has large pockets of anti-American sentiments in its general population. You won’t find any Chinese on this list.”

      As he said this, Crain shot Eve a look.

      “Why is one of the names highlighted yellow?” interrupted the President.

      “That name represents a candidate who is not technically age-eligible yet. He’s fairly well known in certain circles though, and I guess Donovan thinks he’s a good choice.”

      “That name seems familiar to me,” puzzled Eve as she gazed at the screen.

      “It should,” sneered Crain. “You met his father a year ago in Cairo at a party in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities.”

      Looking shocked, Eve asked, “How do you know that?”

      “I told him, Mrs. Bear,” answered Donovan flatly.

      Frowning, Eve shifted in her seat uncomfortably and crossed her legs.

      “Alright, Ben,” interjected the President testily. “Just get on with it.”

      “Gladly,” said Crain. “Every name you see on this list belongs either to someone already prominent in the field of archaeology or quickly rising to prominence. Several of our candidates are published, and one is a professor at Cambridge. None of the people on this list have any experience in astronautics, but if our Italian biologist can get trained up in time, then I don’t see any problems there. Now, Dr. Floyd how do you want to handle this? After all, this is your mission.”

      Feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall upon him, James swallowed and stared at the screen. Reading down the list, he stopped at the name highlighted in yellow. It read, Harrison Raheem Assad.

      “I would like to meet them all face-to-face if I can,” he said. “Starting with the youngest one.”

      “You heard him, Donovan,” grinned Crain. “Round them up.”