7
“We seem to be spending more time here than usual,” Jim Laird said when Andrews stepped into the vehicle ready bay. It was already full of people, most of them standing around and waiting. Spencer looked agitated, and it didn’t take a social scientist to figure out why. When Mulligan had said the rigs were frozen, he hadn’t been kidding; armed guards had kept the SCEV maintainers and crews away from the waiting rigs.
“Okay, what’s the SITREP here?” Andrews asked.
Laird pointed at the waiting SCEVs. “Rigs are frozen, and no one goes near them until you give the word. You’re the mission commander, so both assets are under your operational control.” He sniffed and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “They wouldn’t accept my authority to grant the crews access, so we were waiting for you. I was about to have you paged over the intercom, actually.”
Andrews checked his watch. “Hey, I’m a half hour early.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure you get a commendation for that.”
Andrews ignored Laird’s slightly pissy tone. “Oscar, are you in charge of the guard detail?” he asked one of the sentries. He was a tall, broad-shouldered staff sergeant of Hispanic extraction, and his dark skin was covered with a slight sheen of sweat.
“Yes, sir,” Oscar said.
“We’d like to access the rigs now, and start the pre-launch checks. Any problem with that?”
“Negative, Captain. You’re good to go, sir.”
Andrews waved to the waiting maintainers. “Let’s get it done,” he said.
“About f*cking time,” Spencer groused.
“Orders, man. I got orders,” Oscar told him. “Major Alexander gave ’em to me, but you know where they really came from? Mulligan, man.”
“Ah, screw him,” Spencer said testily.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Oscar said. “He’ll rip your little wiener out by the roots and slap you across the face with it.”
“Spencer, knock off the shit and do your job,” Andrews told him. He asked Laird, “All essential personnel present?”
“Waiting on Mulligan. And your wife, actually.”
“She’ll be here in fifteen. We don’t need her or Mulligan for the vehicle checks, so let’s get started.”
“Hooah.”
The maintenance crews went to work making the final checks. Andrews made a quick walkaround of SCEV Four, checking the various sight gauges and ensuring the fluid levels were right on the line, the tires were in proper condition for an overland hike, the infrared turrets were clean, and the heavy duty shock absorption system was in good repair. He had no problem shouldering maintainers aside so he could crawl into the inspection spaces and put his own eyes on target. Getting his hands dirty was never something he’d been afraid of, and within minutes they were covered with grime and grease. He removed several axle bellows and checked them for any residual grit from the rig’s last trip, and he was happy to see they were as clean as if the rig had just rolled off the assembly line. Crawling out from beneath the vehicle, he glanced over at SCEV Five and saw Laird doing the same thing, and just as aggressively. Good. While he’d known Jim for as long as he’d known anyone, he’d never crewed with him before, and he was glad to see the broad-shouldered officer was as dedicated to mission prep as he was.
Andrews took some time to clean as much of the grime from his hands as he could before climbing the short stairway to the rig’s interior. There was no need to make it any dirtier than necessary just yet; there’d be plenty of time for it to get messed up during the mission, and he preferred to keep the living and working spaces as pristine as possible.
Inside, Tony Choi and Leona Eklund were already conducting functionality checks of the environmental systems, and another technician still had the floor pulled up in the sleeping area, going over the last third of the transmission system. Andrews nodded to his crew, then looked past them at the technician servicing the tranny.
“Hey, Halderman. Make sure the holding tank has been emptied, all right?”
Halderman smiled. “You’re good to go on that, sir. Everyone is free to pee with abandon.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear, thanks.”
Andrews pushed himself into the cockpit and slid into the left seat. The rig was still running on external power, so activating the instrument panel was as simple as flipping a switch on the inverter panel. Chimes sounded as the instruments powered up, and the screens came to life as the rig’s array of computers booted. Once the power-on test was completed, a schematic of the vehicle appeared on the center display. He could see every panel that was open on the rig’s exterior, the status of every system, the level of every fluid reservoir—and he was happy to confirm that Halderman had been correct, the rig’s poop tank was reading as empty. The SCEVs were powered by a sophisticated hybrid powerplant, using two variable-speed turboshaft engines for propulsion that in turn charged an array of batteries that would keep the rig going for a couple of days in the unlikely event both engines shit the bed. Andrews ran all the pre-ignition checks but stopped short of actually starting the rig—even though there were at least two pre-positioned caches of fuel along their route, he had no idea if they were still accessible, or if they’d been raided in the war’s aftermath. In light of that, they’d need to preserve every drop of fuel in the tanks.
Spencer stuck his head inside the cockpit. “Hey, el Capitan. We’re good to go on the externals. I’m going to have them pull external power once you give the word. And the big guy is coming up now.” The crew chief pointed out the thick viewport windows.
Andrews looked through them and saw Mulligan sauntering toward the rig, a scowl on his face. The maintainers gave the big NCO a wide berth, wary of his foul expression.
“Take another walkaround, just to be safe,” he told Spencer. “I’ll let you know when you can disconnect the external power supply.”
“Roger that.” Spencer ducked out of the cockpit, and Andrews paged through the menus on the system display, checking off items that had been completed. A moment later, he felt a presence hovering over his right shoulder. Andrews looked up, even though he knew who it was. Mulligan looked down at him with eyes that were about as warm as a polar ice cap.
“Sergeant Major,” Andrews said by way of greeting.
“I see you weren’t successful in getting me pulled off the roster,” Mulligan said.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Regrettable.”
Andrews pointed to the right seat. “I take it you remember the ignition procedures?”
“I’m not that out of it, sir.” Mulligan crouched down as he pushed himself into the cockpit and lowered himself into the copilot’s seat with surprising dexterity. Andrews was impressed. The cockpit was extremely tight, and the close quarters made taking a seat almost an exercise in gymnastic torture. That a man of Mulligan’s size was able to slip into the copilot’s seat almost effortlessly made it seem as though he’d spent a lifetime crewing on SCEVs.
“Something wrong, Captain?”
Andrews smiled and shook his head. “We’re good, Sarmajor. Maybe you can show Choi how to enter the cockpit like you did—it’s a pain in the ass when he kicks the center console and flips the radio frequencies.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Andrews slipped on his radio headset and, from the corner of his eye, saw Mulligan do the same. “Leona, are we buttoned up back there?”
“Roger, we’re secure throughout the rig,” Leona reported from the second compartment. “All floor panels are replaced and locked, and only crew are aboard at this time.”
“Roger that. Mulligan, bring the APU online, if you would.”
Without consulting the procedure, Mulligan reached to the overhead console and flipped two switches. From inside the SCEV’s belly, a groaning whine sounded. The rig’s auxiliary power unit came to life and, as soon as it began delivering the proper amount of current, the rig’s onboard computer shut off the external power supply. SCEV Four was now running on full internal power.
Andrews reached for the control column beside him and pressed the red radio button. “Five, this is Four. Are you guys ready to crank? Over.”
Jim Laird’s voice came back a moment later. “Roger that, Four. Ready whenever you are. Over.”
“Roger. Light ’em up.” Andrews motioned for Spencer, who was standing outside just off the SCEV’s nose, to pull the external power cable. Spencer reached forward, unlocked the cord’s head, then removed it and held it up for Andrews to see. Beside Spencer, SCEV Five’s crew chief did the same thing and showed the disconnected cable to Laird. Andrews shot Spencer a thumbs-up.
“Crew, prepare for engine start,” he said.
“Ready for start back here,” Leona reported.
Andrews flipped the switch to start the rig’s first turbine engine. Since the powerplants were equipped with a fully automatic digital engine control—FADEC—there was no need to worry about the potential of a hot start, when fuel would begin to burn prematurely, causing a fire. The FADEC system managed the entire startup sequence, keeping the starter motor blowing cool air throughout the engine’s turbine section until the appropriate pressure level was reached and the fuel/air mixture in the engine’s compression area could be safely ignited. Once that happened, the engine spooled up rapidly. The turbine’s whine was clearly audible, even through his headset’s ear cups.
“Clean start,” Mulligan reported. “T5 is good, exhaust temperature’s normal.” Mulligan made the same report after the second engine had been activated and spooled up.
“Thanks. You good to go on the post-start checklist?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Sarmajor.” Andrews glanced over at Laird’s rig. “SCEV Five, this is Four. Ignition positive. Over.”
“Four, this is Five. We’re operational on this side. Over.”
“Roger that. Break. Bay Control, this is SCEV Four. We’re about ready for departure. Over.” As he spoke, Andrews saw the maintenance crews packing it up, pulling their rolling tool chests away from the two vehicles. Fuel and power lines had already been disconnected and were being reeled up onto their spools. The two SCEVs were technically free to maneuver. From the corner of his left eye, he saw SCEV Five’s outer airlock door cycle closed. A slight but noticeable change in air pressure tickled his eardrums as his own rig was buttoned up. Once the airlock doors were closed, the SCEV became “inflatable,” meaning it was slightly pressurized to keep its interior clear of any biological or radioactive contaminants it might encounter while roving about on the surface.
“SCEV Four, Bay Control. You’re clear for lift one at your discretion, though we would appreciate it if you could expedite your departure. Over.”
Expedite our departure? “Well, I guess they can’t wait for us to get gone,” Andrews muttered.
“They’re having to burn more energy for the ventilation system,” Mulligan said. “The rigs running are dumping a lot of poisonous exhaust into the bay, and running the fans and scrubbers for more than a few minutes is a bit of a luxury they really can’t afford.”
“Ah, right. Thanks for that, Sergeant Major.”
“It’s what I’m here for, sir. Post-start checklist complete. Want to grade my work?”
Andrews glared at the bigger man, but if he was at all affected by Andrews’s irritated expression, Mulligan didn’t show it. If anything, Andrews thought he detected a ghost of a smile threatening to form on the big NCO’s weathered, Hollywood-handsome face. He remembered years ago overhearing his mother mention how Mulligan looked like a super-sized Charlton Heston, and he’d made it a point to watch one of the actor’s old movies. Sure enough, the resemblance was uncanny.
“No, we’re good,” Andrews said, turning away. “Bay Control, SCEV Four. Roger, we’re rolling now. Over.”
“Roger, SCEV Four.”
Andrews pushed the control column forward a quarter inch, and the rig slowly trundled forward, its big, knobbed tires rolling across the steel plank floor. A soldier with illuminated wands guided Andrews around the idling bulk of SCEV Five and pointed him straight toward the huge cargo elevator that would take the vehicle to the surface. As the rig rolled forward, following the yellow lines on the floor, the soldier saluted—the usual sendoff whenever a vehicle departed Harmony Base. Mulligan returned the salute as Andrews steered twenty-eight tons of composites, aluminum, titanium, steel, assorted plastics, rubber, and human bodies toward the waiting elevator.
***
The elevator brought the rig up to the dry surface in less than two minutes, but it was among the longest couple of minutes Andrews could remember having lived through. He found he was suddenly gripped by a fear that the lift might fail due to undetected quake damage. Getting hung up would be bad, but if the lift suddenly sheared off the rails and plummeted back into the base, the result would be lethal. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the elevator made it to the surface and stopped as fluidly as it always had.
He then remembered the elevator needed to make another trip, and that it would be bearing his wife. Here’s hoping Five makes it up, too.
When the thick doors slid open, harsh sunlight slashed at Andrews’s eyes, partially blinding him despite the sunglasses he wore. The viewports polarized automatically, darkening against the brilliant light. Andrews blinked away the glare and pushed the control column forward. The SCEV lumbered out of the elevator and onto the parched, dusty ground.
“Warning: External radiation level—four point two sieverts.”
Andrews silenced the alarm with his right hand as he brought the SCEV into a sweeping left turn. The rig bumped slightly over the terrain, and Mulligan kept his eyes on the displays.
“So four point two sieverts, that’s bad, right?” he said.
“You gotta be kidding me, Mulligan,” Andrews answered. He tightened the SCEV’s turn, pulling the rig around until it was pointed back at the elevator. He braked the rig to a halt, just as the elevator’s doors slid closed. Then the entire cubicle disappeared, descending back into the ground as another set of doors slid closed, sealing up the shaft. To the rig’s right, a tall electronic surveillance mast rose over a hundred feet into the air. It was dotted with all manner of antennae, which could monitor signals across the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Other than the blast doors that covered the elevator shaft, the ESM mast was the only physical indication Harmony Base even existed. As Andrews watched, a dry wind gave birth to several dust devils that swirled around the idling SCEV.
“I am kidding you, sir. I’m aware that four sieverts equals lethal radiation exposure, resulting in acute radiation syndrome and death in unprotected individuals.” Mulligan smiled humorlessly. “Tell you what, I’ll skip the levity for the rest of the trip.”
“That would be great.” Into his headset, he added, “Bay Control, this is SCEV Four. We’re on top and holding for SCEV Five. Over.”
“Roger, SCEV Four. Five will be on its way in just a minute. Over.”
“Understood, Control.” As they waited, Andrews scanned the instrument panel. The SCEV’s systems seemed to be operating perfectly. Nevertheless, he loosened his shoulder straps a bit and leaned around the bulkhead that separated the cockpit from the rig’s second compartment. He saw Leona and Spencer sitting at their duty stations, directly behind the bulkhead and across from the inner airlock door.
“Spence, how are we looking?”
“We’re in great shape. All systems are doing fine.” The swarthy crew chief added a double thumbs-up for emphasis. “How are things up front? The Sarmajor hypnotized by all the pretty blinky lights?”
“Keep that up, Sergeant, and I’ll introduce you to some really pretty blinky lights,” Mulligan said, holding up a big fist.
Spencer barked his characteristic laugh and turned back to his station. Leona looked at Andrews and gave him a pale smile. Andrews smiled back and faced forward, tightening his straps.
“Here comes Five.” Mulligan pointed out the viewport. Through the thick, shaded glass, Andrews saw SCEV Five haul itself out of the elevator, which had just risen from the ground.
“Let’s get this show on the road. Guys, we’re getting ready to roll,” he said, then eased the control column forward. “SCEV Five, this is SCEV Four. Over.”
“Go for Five. Over,” Laird responded via radio.
“This is SCEV Four. Come around to heading two-seven-seven and let’s make best speed for the west. Over.”
***
In the darkened command center, General Martin Benchley sat at his command console in the rear of Harmony Base’s nerve center. On one of the displays embedded in his station, he watched as the two Self-Contained Exploration Vehicles accelerated away, heading for the distant western horizon.
And with them go our hopes and dreams.
He sensed a presence behind him and turned. Corrine Baxter looked past him at the monitor, her brow furrowed, the worry plain on her face.
“Think Andrews’ll be able to pull this off, sir?”
Benchley thought about it for a moment. Really thought about it. When he did that, he found he didn’t care much for the answer, so he fell back to the usual platitude an officer in his position would be expected to make.
“He has to, Colonel. There are no other alternatives.”