John Karr - Detonation Event

Cricks shook her head. “The approved navigation plan is to go to MOS-2.”

“As captain, I’m changing the plan.”

“As crewmember, I’ll issue a grievance,” Cricks promised.

“I’d turn the shuttle around for you,” Wagner said, her gaze finding each of her crew.

“C’mon, Cricks,” Norquist said, after a lingering moment. “Protocol got jettisoned when they hit Detonation Event with crew still on red dirt. Forget the complaint. There’s plenty of work on MOS-1 until we straighten this out.”

“She is not going to ruin my career!”

Wagner looked to the stars at the nose of the bridge. “Draw up your dissent. I’ll sign it and Norquist can witness. But I’m still captain for now, and we’re heading back to MOS-1.”

An hour later a mind message dot went bright yellow in Gwen’s periphery. Probably her mother, worried sick about what had happened. She blinked and opened it, then sucked in her breath as she read it.

Love you, sis.

Gwen Wagner stood motionless at the tip of her shuttle, her arms crossed as she watched Cricks through the observation panes. Her ex-crewmate was in her space suit, walking away from PS-30 and toward to one of the entrance portals of Columbus Bay on MOS-1. Others waited while the chamber pressurized.

They found someone! Cricks had said, hours earlier.

Trent?

Copilot Lassiter Nuro.

And… the others?

No, I’m afraid.

Gwen focused on the present. “Would you withdraw the landing ramp, Will? We don’t need any uninvited guests from the security team.”

“Already withdrawn.”

“You should go. Cricks had a good point. You don’t need a ruined career.”

“Nah. There’s some joints on this bird that need oiling. Can’t have you tryin’ it, all willy-nilly.”

Gwen half smiled.

“Sorry,” Norquist said from the copilot station. “Satellite links just went bold. Guess they figured the crew of PS-10 would talk anyway.”

“Hook us to one of the links, please.”

Gwen walked with purpose back toward the pilot station. Before she reached it, Norquist sent the image to the hologram, and she passed through the satellite view of Mars.

“God!”

“Well, the bombs didn’t split the planet in half, so that’s something,” Norquist said, dryly.

“Sure pissed it off, though.”

“Yeah, we bloody well did.”

Mars was rife with livid veins and splotches. Even where illuminated by the sun, the new sources of light were abundant. Vast plumes of dust glittered from above and below . Areas not yet obscured by dust revealed active volcanoes in numbers that far exceeded the ancient ghosts that had stood prior to DE. Many of these spewed like geologic fountains, sending lava thousands of feet into the air to splatter the surrounding miles. Others had floes of the liquid rock cascading down their sides. Some had both. Lava channels and jagged rivers and flat regions glowed. Other areas had vast lakes of lava that rose from a low-lying surface chasm.

Gwen’s stomach sent pangs of fear.

The captain and crew of one stood and stared at Mars gone hellish.

“Jesus,” Norquist said.

“Where was T2 located?” Gwen said.

Norquist bent to work the copilot console. He straightened and pointed.

“There.”

A two-hundred-mile circumference of obscuring ash and dust glittered and throbbed from the geologic light show. In roughly the center of the dusted blight was a superimposed pointer from Norquist, with the tip labeled “T2 Site,” instead of merely “T2.”

“Any biological readings?” she asked.

“Not currently, sorry.”

“Can you zoom in on the coordinates for the ridge area where Trent and the others were headed?”

“Trying, but the dust and ash is thick, and someone’s not letting us do much… Hey, we’re getting a hail. Bay Control’s hailing us,” Norquist said.

“Put them through. Or here, I can do it.”

“No, no, let me get my hands dirty at this comm thing.” Norquist cursed, hit keys and buttons and cursed again; then he pointed beside the image of angry Mars, where another image appeared. “There.”

In the live feed, Helena stood with Bradley Fresnopolis beside her.

“Identify for the log, please,” Helena said, after she announced them.

Gwen and Norquist did so. “Cricks decided to realign. She left our ship and entered MOS-1.”

“Yes, she is meeting with our operations people now.”

Gwen remained silent.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Helena said to Gwen. “But your presence here is unauthorized.”

“Your regret is unnecessary, as we don’t know what’s happened to Trent and the others.” Gwen fought the constriction in her throat. “My flight request…?”

Helena studied Gwen’s taught features. “Your request to take PS-30 to the Martian surface is denied.”

“Reason?”

“Because PS-10 already tried and is returning with the only known survivor, Lassiter Nuro. And after eight hours of constant scanning, there have been zero signs of life. There’s too much volcanic eruption and dust is thick and swirling so we can’t see or detect anyone or anything. The radiation has scrambled electronic signals. You’ve probably seen the satellite images, but the dust obscures a lot of the T2 site. It’s a geologic war zone.”

“Doesn’t mean there are no survivors,” Gwen said. “We’ll concentrate on the trio’s last known location. The shuttle’s sensors will work on the surface.”

“Around the tunnels the activity is far more chaotic than elsewhere, Captain Wagner. And that’s where Trent and Captain Devans and the others were last observed.”

“It wouldn’t be so hard to find them if someone at SCONA hadn’t set off the damn bombs!”

Silence.

Fresnopolis moved out of camera shot.

“I’m sorry, but your brother and the others are likely dead, Gwen,” Helena said softly. “Abort your mission.”

“He got a message through to me.”

“We’re getting zero signals.”

“From the suits, yes,” Gwen said. “But Trent’s mind message came through. Maybe because it uses a lower freq, or he must’ve had it link to one of the satellites and boost out to this ship. Whatever he did, it reached me.”

Helena’s expression remained neutral. “Have you had another?”

“Negative. But the entire planet’s belching superheated interference now. I’ll come in from the calmer area and vector to his last known position. From there we will grid out, quarter mile squares back and forth.”

“There’s a volcano where T2 used to be, and lava geysers are erupting everywhere from surface quakes. The survivors had ion jet packs, but they could have gone a million places. What makes you think you can get to them when PS-10 didn’t?”

Gwen Wagner gazed at the livid Mars.

“Incentive.”

Helena’s expression wavered. She looked down, nodded, then back up. “I could close the bay gate.”

“You know I can fly out long before it shuts.”

“I could send security,” Helena said.

“I don’t recommend it,” Gwen returned. “Hate to have an accident in the orbiter.”

“Lower the ramp, Captain,” Norquist said, gazing at one of his side monitors.

Gwen blinked as if slapped. “Changed your mind about staying? I thought… I don’t blame you. It’s the smart thing to—”

“No, no. That’s Fresnopolis down there in a suit! He’s wavin’ for us to let him in. He’s also hailing via the comm link.”

It was true. Gwen readied the ion drive for takeoff.

“I’ve had enough SCONA tricks, Helena,” she said.