John Karr - Detonation Event

Norquist’s efforts soon produced a three-dimensional map of the Martian terrain with four points of light. Trent Wagner, Alicia Hamilton, and Shannon Burroughs were heading for a ridgeline. Ry Devans’ light remained at the tunnel. Narrow identification balloons in bright green followed above them, tethered by thin, finely lit lines. Gwen Wagner’s gaze went back and forth between the icons superimposed over the Martian landscape and the real images of the satellite feed and the wild floodlights of the spinning PS-9 .

The ID chip identified Ry Devans on the feed. There was something in his hands. He lowered himself to one knee, rose, and took aim with what had to be an atomizer.

“Crap,” Gwen said.

The others paused to watch.

Gwen swallowed. A shuttle captain was about to fire on his own ship to save the site, and destroy any remaining crew and himself in the process.

“Christ, mate.” Norquist said, to the small image of the man in the spacesuit.

“Praying for all of them,” Gwen added.

“They need more than superstition to survive this,” Cricks said.

The other two ignored the comment.

A life pod detached from PS-9 and landed just beyond Devans’ position. He held his fire and ran to it. The manual entry code appeared to fail. He banged it a few times and started to move behind it when the portal opened and he got inside. PS-9 had swung out perhaps a half mile and was beginning to return. Cracks networked from its engine room now, along the sides to the nose. The spins increased faster and faster and then another life pod ejected as if thrown out by centrifugal force. A mile away, from the narrow gap in the life pod portal, Devans fired the atomizer. Almost instantly PS-9 exploded, hurling surface matter and gouging out the surface. The landing zone and supply shed vanished. The life pod was caught up in the wave of dirt, rock, and dust. All lights from the ship vanished. Remnants glowed briefly and winked out. Darkness reigned.

“God!” Norquist said.

“Do you still have Trent?” Gwen asked, her tone controlled but strained.

Norquist hesitated. “Sorry, they’re gone.”

“Bullcrap!” Gwen tried desperately to regain the links off her own monitor. “Come on. Come on.”

“Transmission might just be blocked. His last known location was at the ridge fifteen miles away.”

“Trent could have survived… All three should have!”

“Absolutely they could have,” Norquist said.

Cricks looked from one to the other. “Sorry, but that was the equivalent of a nuclear bomb going off. Small compared to what’s at the bottom of the holes, but still powerful.”

“The life pod’s still intact,” Wagner pointed out.

“Life pods have their own short-lived power shields, and they’re built to withstand an initial blast and radiation. Our life suits aren’t anywhere near that strong.”

“They have distance in their favor,” Norquist said to Cricks.

“Maybe, but the pod’s power shield has been depleted, and Devans had to have gotten concussed into oblivion in that egg,” she replied. She checked her links and scanners. “Wait, wait. Holy… the suit inside the pod is transmitting vitals! He’s still alive in there.”

“Best option, he should stay with the pod,” Norquist said. “Maybe get the others to return to him.”

“No, no, no,” Cricks said. Her fingers flew over the communications console. Her face portrayed what could only be dismay.

“What?” Wagner said.

“There’s… crap!”

“Come on, Janai!”

“There’s a lot of chatter about the relays.” Slack-faced, Cricks stood and stared at a cut-away holo she had summoned that showed the tunnel from surface to core. “Look! T2’s gone solid green.”

Norquist stared. “God! They’re ready to receive transmission, and we’ve still got boots on the ground.”

Gwen’s heart thudded at the sight of the steady green glow at the highest sections of T2. “SCONA can’t detonate with survivors on the surface!”

The bomb cavity pulsated red. Then the relays turned solid red. Then the next highest, and the next, and up the chain at a far faster rate than Gwen had imagined. Just minutes later the surface around T2 collapsed, dragging Devans with it in the life pod.

“Christ!” Norquist said. “They’re blowing it up with our people still there!”

Cricks turned to reply. Her lips moved, but they didn’t say anything.

The holo went dark, then vanished.

“Transmission’s been terminated,” Cricks said, working the keyboard. “Alternates are also unavailable. The planet’s in visual blackout.”

The crew of PS-30 sat in stunned silence.

Finally Gwen spoke. “SCONA just made our people expendable.”

“Didn’t think it would go down like this.” Norquist slumped in the copilot seat and massaged his forehead.

“We don’t have verification,” Cricks pointed out.

Norquist stared at the empty section where the Mars surface holo used to be. “C’mon, we saw enough to know they at least initiated the damn thing. Whether they intentionally blacked out the feeds is another question.”

“Secondary channels,” Gwen said. “Everyone reach out in mind messages to people on the orbiters, SCONA headquarters, whoever, wherever.”

Minutes passed.

“Detonation Event confirmed by three of my sources,” Cricks said slowly.

“I got some as well,” Norquist said.

“Same here. They did it. Switching holo to our location between the orbiters.” Gwen rose slowly from the seat, passed through the holo, and stood at the nose of the bridge, as if she could look back and see Mars. She wiped her eyes.

“You can’t do anything about it now, Wagner.” Cricks shook her head.

“I can, and will.”

“MOS-1 is still pulling away from Mars space,” Cricks said.

“They can damn well pause once we get there. I’ll drop you. Then I’m heading for Mars and my brother and the others.”

“But there could be asteroid kick-up, dust storms, volcanic activity, who knows what,” Cricks said. “They can’t put the lives of a few ahead of ten thousand, Wagner.”

“You don’t leave people behind,” Norquist said.

“Wagner, we’re not authorized for a return trip to MOS-1. We should stay the course to MOS-2.” Cricks shook her head as she spoke.

“Negative,” Gwen returned, with more abruptness than was customary for her. “They pulled the damn trigger early and can deal with our unscheduled arrival.”

“What is it you think you can do for Trent?”

“Cricks…” Norquist warned.

“I don’t know,” Wagner said. “But I’m not going back to MOS-2 without some kind of resolution. I won’t put you two at risk. I’ll drop you guys in Columbus Bay.”

Cricks clicked her mouse furiously from behind them. “Getting something! MOS-1 has reopened operations links.”

Wagner swiveled and leaned forward. Norquist did the same in the copilot seat.

“…They’re reversing engines on MOS-1… holding it in place and sending PS-10 to Mars surface for rescue!” Cricks said.

“That’s something, then,” Norquist said.

Cricks passed by and stood in the holo image, facing Wagner. “Since they’re sending rescue, we can stay the course to MOS-2 as planned.”

“They also planned to clear the landing crew from the Martian surface before Detonation Event,” Gwen returned.

“I understand about your brother,” Cricks said. “But MOS-1 is taking action and has other shuttles at their disposal. We could monitor things on our way, like we’ve done half a dozen times now between the orbiters.”

“They’ve blocked the links for a reason,” Gwen said.