Chapter 12
'I found these in the food store.They'll make a change from all that fruit you eat.'
Foreman poured some of the nutsonto a plate and placed it in front of Monkley. Monkley ate those ashe watched Foreman with a protein meal. According to the label, itwas meant to be chicken flavour. It wasn't like any chicken he'd evertasted.
'All this stuff was shipped infrom Earth. I suppose one day, the base will be completely selfsufficient.' He was never sure how much of anything he said had anymeaning to the GenMoP. Monkley as just a chimpanzee wasn't that farbehind humans. Sharing ninety nine percent of their DNA with humans,put them right up there. Monkley had been trained from birth byForeman, and with the artificial voice box giving him a wider vocalrange than other chimps, he was able to express his thoughts andfeelings to Foreman. 'I was thinking...'
'Ooooh!.'
'Don't act so surprised. I'd liketo take a look at the crash site. Maybe place a marker. Not surewhat. I'll think of something.'
With the meal finished, Foremangave some thought to the problem. The idea of a cross came to him,but he wasn't particularly religious, and wasn't sure what beliefshis colleagues had had. History on Earth would place their namessomewhere for posterity, he was sure of that. Assuming there wasanyone left to do that. No. It was something he felt was important todo. The shallow grave he had dug was one thing, but somehow seemedinadequate. It had to be something durable for the Martianenvironment.
In the maintenance workshop, helooked around for inspiration. Stacked up in one corner were severaloffcuts of Luxotral pipe. Nothing was ever discarded in the base.Selecting a piece three feet long, he clamped it in the vice. With amarker, he wrote the names of the three dead astronauts on the pipe.Then, he got a drill and drilled small holes into the pipe where theletters were. All the time, Monkley was watching him, perched on astool.
'This should last a few decades,pal. Now go and suit up.'
Foreman checked the air supplywas full and that Monkley's helmet was secure. Monkley opened andclosed the airlock doors and Foreman drove out.
'I'm pretty sure it's that way.'
It was impossible to use acompass on Mars, because the red planet has no magnetic field. Themagnetic field on Earth is created by the inner core revolving insidethe planet. The core on Mars did not revolve. This was one of thereasons the base was where it was, not far from Olympus Mons. Theship had orbited the planet twice and was on a gradual decent towardsthe mountain and the base.
Foreman drove the buggy up theramp and headed left. It was early in the Martian day, so they wouldhave plenty of time. If they couldn't locate the fallen ship, theywould return before the air supply reached halfway. As they drovethrough the lifeless terrain, Foreman wondered at the attraction ofthe red planet. Who the hell would want to live here, anyway? Onlyidiots like him with no choice. But the bigger picture was to useMars as a stepping stone for the rest of the solar system, and thenbeyond. Once the speed of light problem had been resolved, therewould be no stopping mankind.
Finding the wreck was easier thanForeman could have hoped for. The blackened lump stuck out on theflat plateau like a zit on a nose. Foreman stopped the buggy a fewyards from the remains. He sat and stared at it for a moment.
'Why? What the hell made itcrash?'
'Crash.'
'Millions of miles of fault freeflying, then the minute we get here, boom.'
'Boom.'
Phillips had given the order tobuckle up for landing and Foreman had finished securing Monkley inhis cage. He had been about to return to the cockpit and straphimself in, when they had dropped like a stone. From the tiny roomwhere the cage was, Foreman had heard a muffled bang, a smallexplosion. He had been about to open the door to join the others,when the ship started spinning and falling. The sudden accelerationand the spinning had caused him and probably the others to black out.He doubted if being buckled up would have made much difference. Thefew seconds prior to the ship exploding would not have been enoughfor him to free the others and get far enough from the ship. But theywere beyond saving. If the door hadn't opened enough to squeezethrough, he and Monkley would have perished, also.
Foreman got down and Monkleyfollowed him, cautiously, to the ship. The whole thing looked likesome blackened work of surrealist art. Macabre, and permeated withdeath. The airlock door was still wide open, distorted from theintense heat. Climbing inside, Foreman's heart sank at the sight. Thecharred remains were barely recognisable as human beings. He couldhardly distinguish who was who. He had no intention of removing thebodies and burying them outside. The ship would be their coffin.
'Mind you don't cut your suit onthe jagged stuff, pal.'
Foreman could see there wasnothing worth salvaging from the ship. He'd have been surprised ifthere had been.
'I guess you three died doingwhat you loved most.'
He was about to leave, whensomething caught his eye. Something that didn't look right. From allthe other damage, he saw something odd. Kneeling down for a closerlook, low down on the instruments and controls, a small hole, roughlyfist sized. The edges of the hole were forced outwards. Any holesmade by things smashing into it would have gone inwards, notoutwards. The conclusions he was coming to, confused him. But hecould see no alternative explanations. Something had exploded insidethe instrumentation, causing the destruction of the ship.
'Foreman. Get real. You got thisall wrong.'
He knew the explosion hadn'thappened before he had gone into the storage area where Monkley wascaged. Somebody would probably have mentioned it. This was it. Thishad caused the ship to crash and kill the others.
'It must have just been a pieceof faulty instrumentation, right pal?'
Not prepared to accept thealternative, he peered into the hole. From what little he could see,the internal damage emanated from a single point. Everything fromthat point had been forced outwards. An electronics engineer wouldhave been able to get to the bottom of it, but he had limitedknowledge on such things. His gut feelings were telling him thiswasn't a piece of faulty equipment. The systems had been checked outhundreds of times prior to take off. A horrible and terrifying wordcame to his mind. Sabotage. This was no accident. Three people hadbeen murdered.
Feeling the anger about toconsume, he had to get out. His mind was racing, confused and angry.Somebody was responsible. He leaned on the buggy, staring at theship. He felt nauseated, but one of the first things he was taughtwas never vomit in a space suit.
'Bastards.'
'Bastards.'
'Somebody wanted us dead, pal.'
'Oooh!'
Taking the length of pipe, hesecured it to the wreck. Then he saluted. Monkley copied him. Theygot back in the buggy and with the mountain as a guide, they returnedto the base.
One Way To Mars
Gary Weston's books
- Cloner A Sci-Fi Novel About Human Clonin
- Humanity Gone After the Plague
- John Gone (The Diaspora Trilogy)
- Brass & Bone
- No Words Alone
- A Fighter's Heart: One Man's Journey Through the World of Fighting
- Ready Player One
- Blackjack Wayward
- Straight to You
- Prelude to Foundation
- Impostor
- Star Trek Into Darkness
- To Snatch a Thief
- Tome of Fire
- Victories of the Space Marines
- Flying the Storm
- Storm Assault (Star Force Series)
- The Exodus Towers #1
- The Exodus Towers #2
- The Two Towers
- Woman to Woman
- The Shell Collector