Michael Siemsen - Exigency

“A man and his gun,” he said.

Angela glanced at him and laughed. “So sexy.”

Tom lifted an amorous eyebrow. “You want another go before we disembark for the rest of our natural lives? Make it a nice even three?”

“Uh, no. Rewind forty-five seconds and pay close attention to the ‘five days of funk’ part. And three is an odd number, doof. We’ve got work to do. For one, we need to track down Aether and Qin. Do you have a fix on them… or Zees and Pablo, for that matter?”

“I lost my DC to Aether when our chute blew. Figured they kept descending for a while before theirs deployed, thus moving out of range.”

“Wait, what if their chute didn’t pop at all?”

Tom waved a dismissive hand. “These things have backups for the backups. Don’t wack out on me.” He studied the EV’s console. “We’re all equalized here. Weather outside is safe. No natural threats in the vicinity. You ready to step out?”

“I feel like we should wait for Aether’s instructions.”

Tom’s hand hovered in front of the hatch lever. “Honey, I’m eighty-eight kilos. Nearly two meters. I’ve been in this thing with you for almost ninety hours, and while the conversation has been riveting, and while I feel that our relationship has reached a beautiful new level—and I don’t just mean the fact that we’re probably the first people in history to christen an EV, not only once, but twice—and while I love you and never wish to be apart from you, I need to get the hell out of this thing before my spine buckles and my brain implodes.”

Angela looked up at him with loving eyes and a touched smile. “Okay, sweetie. If you’re sure it’s safe outside. And I like it when you turn into Mr. Take-Charge, by the way. Uber-sexy. Though I doubt we’re the first to defile an EV.”

“But during a real evac? Hmmm?” Tom rotated the lever and the hatch glided outward before rising up and over the top of the EV. Hot air flowed in.

“Oh wow, that smell!” Angela said as Tom poked his head out and peered around. “So different… Is that sun-dried landfill I detect?”

For a brief moment, Tom thought they’d landed on a dry lake bed, the surface a seemingly perfect flat, almost all the way to the horizon. In the heat-blurred distance rose a low, rolling mountain range. Above, the pale violet sky was painted with stretching cirrus clouds. Gusty summer winds howled and whistled around the EV, the shiny white sphere an alien blemish on the monotonous landscape.

Tom checked the ground before stepping out. “You know where we are?”

“No, you’re standing in the way.”

“The Parking Lot,” Tom said with genuine awe, and moved aside.

“No way.”

Like referring to Everest or the Amazon on Earth, Epsy’s “Parking Lot” was a renowned land feature. It was one of the 17 Wonders of Epsy, so branded by the station crew. Six years after arriving in orbit, or more precisely, three years after dispatching their initial report and data drop back to Earth, the mission had received its first set of new orders. For Tom, the most intriguing part of the message was not the strange shift in research priorities, but the unexpected intro to their new bosses and colleagues.

At some point during the two decades since launch, the United Exploration Agency had been dissolved, and ongoing responsibility for the projects (and personnel) was split between two private companies, one in Switzerland, the other in Argentina.

Tom knew that 80% of the in-progress missions had been sent to investigate stable Earthlike planets with no known intelligent lifeforms, and that these pre-colonization teams had always ranked higher than his purely-for-science 20%. But he was still shocked to learn of an intense bidding war for the colonization teams while a non-profit organization struggled to drum up interest in the science stations. Fortunately, all of this had been worked out three years before the team received the message.

The transition was delicately explained by Swiss executives in a vid. After a recounting of pertinent recent history, and introductions to other members of their new Earth-side teams, Tom’s station was given a list of five high-pri research objectives, one of which was to begin in-depth examination of the Parking Lot. Knowing that these people were the ones who would continue launching semiannual supply pods to the station, the crew were all too happy to oblige their requests. John had wasted no time sending back a formal thanks, enthusiastic acceptance of the new dictate, and a vidtour of the station highlighting each member of the crew, smiling and alive (and clearly hoping to remain so for as long as possible). It’d be another three years before the reply reached Earth, so there was some amount of assumption and good faith on both ends of the comms.

Now, as the laser carrying that message neared the Oort cloud of Earth’s solar system, the crew had become quite familiar with the Parking Lot.

Side by side in the open hatch, Angela wrapped an arm around Tom’s waist as they slowly took in the panorama. Strewn somewhere across and beneath this barren landscape lay miner probes, dead dragonfly probes, and spikers. Once the crew determined to solve the mystery of a kilometers-wide cement plain, it hadn’t taken long to form theories. Either via nearby volcanic activity or an impact event, the native limestone had mixed with fine ash to form this awe-inspiring cement flat. Though its outward appearance eschewed natural formation—especially with the conspicuously straight line of the Lot’s eastern border—it only took a few months of focused study to solve the puzzle to the crew’s satisfaction. The full report was sent off to Earth. 14 million years old. The product of a now-inert supervolcano. Meters below the surface, spiker sensors had found the remains of a once-fertile marsh, frozen in time.

Tom stepped onto the cement surface first and stretched his arms over his head. Despite the scorching heat and instant sweat, he cried out extravagant pleasure and relief, rolling his neck and twisting at the waist. He bent over and touched his toes, then back up again, reaching for the clouds.

“So good!” he shouted and glanced back at Angela as she planted her first foot on the pale ground. “You know what I wish we had?”

“An air conditioner? A swimming pool? A launch pad and fully fueled interstellar transport ship?”

He interlocked his fingers in front of him and stretched out his back. “Pshh-no. No, what I really wish I had was one of those ancient torture racks where they tied your wrists and ankles to either end and just pulled…” He moved his hands apart as if stretching out dough. “What were those things called? The rack things.”

“A rack.” She inhaled a deep breath and held the hot air in her lungs.

“No, there’s got to be some sort of real name for it. Like guillotine .”

“Look it up, doof. It’s ‘rack.’”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“No, we don’t. We don’t have to agree to that at all—”

He pressed a gloved finger against her mouth, uttering a mock-seductive, “Shhhh…” then hunched down, curled his other hand around her waist, and gazed into her cobalt eyes. “Tell me something. How could you possibly be attracted to a gangly beast like me? I’m mean, look at all this.” He glanced up suddenly. “Hang on… what’s that sound?”

They froze and listened. A rapid beep emanated from within the EV. Angela climbed back inside and Tom stuck his head in after her.

“Radio!” Angela said as she opened the comms panel and fumbled with the headset. “EV-four here. Go.” Tom could hear a tinny voice through the little speaker as Angela listened. She looked up at Tom as she pinched the mic button. “Understood, Zees. Just try to stay calm. I’m handing you over to Tom.” She released the button and put the headset in Tom’s hand. “They landed in a farm. Several adult Threck approaching from the dwelling. Be cool, she sounds like she’s about to droop her poop.”