The Fighting Begins
"Dave! Dave! Wake up!" said an unusually chipper IQ. "We've got company!"
"Hnnh - huh?" said Dave, not at all chipper.
"The Wombat, or the Jaberoo. Whatever the hell it is. The Ozzie spaceship. It just hailed us!"
"Well put it on screen then... hang on..." said Dave, instantly taking command of the situation. "Hey - have you seen my underwear?"
"I think they're in orbit around your T shirt. Just past those floating food containers. Relax. All I can get is text. Communications are still dodgey."
Ever since Slavic IQ had shut down the L4 and L5 communications relays, and Earth itself had gone quiet, there had been no communications between Mars and Earth, or, more to the point, between the ferry and the Oz moon base. Since the moon always pointed at the Earth, that was pretty much the extent of what it was able to strike up a conversation with. And now there was nothing on Earth capable of listening and forwarding a message on to Mars. So no one on Mars or environs was totally sure what the status of the Oz mission to Mars was. Or, for that matter, the new ferry. Or, as far as that goes, the band of marauding outlaws.
So Dave was in the zero G cockpit of the command module of the Ferry waiting for something to happen. And it seems it just did.
"How come we can't get video?" said Dave, although a quick glance around the squalor in which he found himself made him immediately withdraw the question. Too late.
"I'm working on it. But you have to understand that until they get very close it's much easier to lock onto a big far away object like the Earth or the L4 and 5 communications relays, and so that's how things were designed. No one anticipated those things being all offline simultaneously. Anyhow, here’s your text message.”
Schooner> G’day! OZ inbound. Have I caught you at home?
Ferry> Yes indeed I’m at home. Weren’t sure you were still enroute. Glad you made it.
Schooner> Not there yet, mate. Give it a day or so. Have you been able to talk to anyone back home?
Ferry> Nope, the Earth is dark, and L4 and 5 are fried. I tried to ping the moon but that’s pointless from here. How about you?
Schooner> Naw, mostly nothing. Right about the time I shipped off everything went down. Did get one last bit of a strange message from Luna before they couldn’t point at me anymore. You were right, Dave. Earth is dark. No lights. Usually lit up like a Christmas tree when you look at the dark bit from the moon. But my last message says it’s completely dark.
Ferry> Hang on. Chryse, are you online?
Pod One> You bet. Bonnie here. No lights? What the hell could that mean?
Schooner> Nothing good. I think someone may have dropped the big one. So I’ve been a long time not knowing what I’d find when I got here. What am I finding?
Ferry> Well, things are about the same as when everything went dark.
Pod One> Except there’s two new crew members down here. They’re doing well.
Schooner> Glad to hear it! Any news from our favourite Martian?
Pod One> No. Apart from his one brief appearance he’s been conspicuously absent. The last time I was talking to Earth they suggested he’s still there just kind of a half step back in time so he can watch us but we can’t see him. Hurts my head, but that’s what they think. Thought. If we didn’t have video I’d just say we all imagined it.
Schooner> And how about consumables?
Ferry> I’m a bit tight up here.
Pod One> We’re good for a little over a year.
Ferry> Of course it’s still likely the new ferry is on schedule and when it arrives in 138 hours we’re all good to go for a further two years. Then if we still haven’t heard from Earth we have a problem.
Schooner> May be able to help a bit there, mates. I’ve got one functioning recycler with me and the guts of a much bigger one if you’ve got some fresh water and a couple of large tanks laying about.
Pod One> I’m sure we can figure something out. Much obliged.
New Ferry> Begroeting! I can confirm the new ferry is actually ahead of schedule, and I will be in the neighbourhood in about 15 minutes.
Ferry> Verwelkoming! I am so glad to hear from you. I didn’t think ‘ahead of schedule’ was still an option, but glad to hear it. Hang on, IQ will get a lock on you and we’ll have visual. Sorry, Schooner, we’ll get you in the loop as soon as you’re close.
IQ> I can’t get visual. How fast did you guys say you’re coming in? I can’t seem to point the antenna at you.
New Ferry> Well, that’s the thing. Afraid I have some news, guys. We’ve been pushing the envelope a bit to get here early and there’s no way I can match velocities with you, Dave.
Ferry> You mean you’re going to just keep going? Where will you end up?
New Ferry> Us? We’ll all end up on the surface, one way or another. All of the supplies will hopefully end up coasting past you at a reasonable delta-v if you feel like a quick shopping trip. We’re going to explosively deboost the lander with us in it and as near as I can tell that and the rest of the ferry’s fuel will slow the whole ferry orbiter structure down relative to you to somewhere between one and two thousand KPH. And we’ll all carry on and land somewhere on the surface in something between one and two thousand pieces.
Ferry>
You’ll all end up on the surface? Isn’t one of you staying up here?
New Ferry> Change in plan, Dave. Amsterdam would have let you know well before now, but I don’t think you’ll be getting any new messages from them. The last we got from them before lights out was that someone had indeed dropped the big one. Many, many big ones. At least some of them were EMP - not designed to kill anyone per se but the electronics were failing all over the world and in anything like an Earth orbit. Anyhow, we’re all going to the surface.
Pod One> I recommend you guys stay up top if it’s at all possible. You’ll have more options up there.
New Ferry> No can do. To save the orbiter we’ve got to have as much mass as possible in the lander, and besides all four of us could really use a doctor. It’s been a rough trip.
Pod One> What’s wrong? I’ll start prepping. Radiation?
New Ferry> No, nothing like that. Can we switch to a secure link?
Ferry> No, we’re a reality TV show. We don’t have secure channels. That was a new feature for your ferry.
New Ferry> Then we should be seeing you shortly on the surface, Dr. Bonnie. Guys, we really shouldn’t discuss anything besides the weather on an open channel. We’ve been tracking some RF anomalies on the way here and I’m guessing there are at least two other ships inbound at the moment.
Ferry> Noted. It sounds like your estimates for delta-V are not very precise - can you narrow them down a bit before you push the button?
New Ferry> Sure, if I could talk to Earth for a few minutes. Left to my own devices, which are a calculator and a piece of string with a weight on it, my estimates stand.
IQ> Can I add something?
New Ferry> What have you got?
New IQ> He’s got me. I’ve been sort of riding piggy-back on your mission.
New Ferry> How the hell could you do that? We’ve got the latest firewall on this thing, specifically to keep you out!
New IQ> Look out your window.
New Ferry> There’s some kind of robot arm out there waving at me. Is that one of the gantry arms?
New IQ> The very same. I hitched a lift.
New Ferry> And slowed us down and caused this whole issue in the first place!
New IQ> Sadly, that is true.
New Ferry> So what have you got to add?
New IQ> My considerable knowledge of orbital mechanics. All you have to do is turn off your firewall. I mean, not long term. Just for a second or two.
New Ferry> So you can take over all of our electronics? I think not.
New IQ> Look, I can assure you, my motives are pure. As a robot arm, I have no desire to go careening off into space. Nothing to grab onto. Nothing to move around. A pointless existence. Also I understand the bit of me that is on the surface has developed a certain fondness for the humans
IQ> It’s true!
New IQ> which now extends to you new guys. So I am keenly motivated to make your deboost a pleasant and enjoyable experience.
IQ> What do you really have to lose?
New Ferry> We’re mulling this over offline.
New IQ> Mull quickly.
Pod One> So if everything works out you’ll be up top with two ferries and two pilots, Dave. Should at least one of you go home?
Ferry> Sounds like Earth isn’t a good destination right at the moment even if we could find a lander. I assume your lander can’t handle more than .3G, Schooner?
Schooner> Confirm. It’s the special Mars edition, just out this year. If you tried to land it on Earth the bits that didn’t burn up would splat really fast.
Pod One> How about Luna? They’re likely unharmed by whatever’s going on down on Earth.
Schooner> More than likely. But the problem is that Luna is only a three day drive from Earth.
Pod One> I’m sorry, I’m not following.
Schooner> They don’t count their supplies by the year. They count them by the week. They’re all gone.
Pod One> OMG I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.
Schooner> Na worries, I mean they likely all evacuated back to Earth.
New Ferry> Guys, I remind you, this is an open channel and we have two potential hostiles incoming.
Cartel> How’s it goin’, eh.
Cartel> Buenos dias!
Ferry> Who the hell are you, and go away. You’re not welcome.
Cartel> Go away where? And how? We’re out of gas, I’m afraid. Not to mention food.
Cartel> And we haven’t heard from home in quite some time either. Sure we can’t hang out with you guys for a bit?
Ferry> Sounds like a you problem. Go raid some other cookie jar. Once the Schooner gets here we’ll have a man on home plate and one to go get the ferry so you won’t be able to get in so push off.
Schooner> Technically, I’m a woman. Me mates back home call me Jillaroo but Jill works too.
Ferry> Huh?
Schooner> And we can’t just abandon them to space, Dave. The rules have changed. There’s nothing else coming from home. It’s us or they die.
Cartel> Well, not much else anyway. We do have a robot ship following us in a month. Enough stuff to keep our little expedition going for a couple of years.
Ferry> Expedition? How many of you are there?
Cartel> Just us two. Oh, and the four that are arriving a smidge later. I think they’re going to land directly on the surface. Don’t know for certain - we sort of lost contact.
Ferry> Two ships and six people.
Cartel> Not really ships I suppose - really just missiles. Anyhow, I can definitely say we have one ship and two people. Can’t speak for the four heading to the surface. We’ve been following a slightly different path and without the stations on Earth we lost communications a few months back. Maybe they’re going to make it; probably they won’t. They gave both of our missions a fifty fifty shot at actually making it here. Missiles, you know. If we knew exactly where the other guys were we could try to raise them.
Pod One> Heading to the surface *where* ?
Cartel> Pretty much anywhere. They’ll be sucking fumes too if they make it this far so they won’t be too fussy about where they land.
Pod One> Guys, I think that’s it for me. You’re going below the horizon and I’m losing you. Keep us updated on any war news. Talk to you in a
Ferry> OK, that’s it for Chryse for a few hours. So back to you freeloaders. Four of you have maybe landed on the surface. They’re all out of stuff too. Your supplies are coming in a month you say. So in the meantime you need to raid us to keep going, and then what. You give us a share of your new stuff when it arrives?
Cartel> Well, actually the plan was not so much to raid as to sweetly ask for a few supplies to tide us over. One of us would deboost with the supplies for the team and the other would stay up here, imposing on your benevolence for a bit until the robot ship arrived. Then yes, of course, you’d be welcome to your supplies back with interest. Everyone would win and everyone would be friends.
Schooner> Why are we just hearing about this plan now?
Cartel> We didn’t have a cordial relationship with your people when we launched, but back home they figured they had nine months to hammer out an agreement before we got here. And then, of course, all the lights went out.
Ferry> So the plan was to be a friendly win-win. What is it now?
Cartel> Things have changed slightly. Since Earth seems to have disappeared then we have to assume we’re on our own. Without Earth brokering the handshake we don’t have a good way of establishing communications with the other ship until they become stationary and ping us. We don’t consider that too likely, though. You wouldn’t believe the shortcuts they took making missiles into spaceships. Apparently they made something serviceable to get here, but enter the Martian atmosphere and land in one piece? I doubt it a lot.
Cartel> So essentially, the new plan is to move in with you, Dave.
Schooner> Aren’t you forgetting me?
Cartel> Of course! You too. The more the merrier.
Ferry> And what if I say NO THANKS ?
Cartel> Sorry, Dave. You’re really no match for us. Do you want to see what you’re up against? We’re coasting in nice and slow and should be there within the hour. I believe you should be able to get video no problem?
IQ chided himself electronically for not realizing the text transmissions from the pirates were essentially stationary. He quickly locked on and suddenly they had loads of bandwidth. The first thing he did was enable video. Well, the second thing he did was enable video. The first thing he did was probe around to see what kind of a firewall the interlopers had. A pretty simple one, really.
The screen in front of Dave blossomed to life, and showed a view of a very cramped cockpit that could very well have once been the payload section of a missile. In it was chair, upon which sat a pirate. A naked pirate. Dave thought he had seen this particular pirate somewhere before. He had a terrible memory for faces, but an exceptional memory for the rest of a woman’s body.
“Didn’t you do some modelling once? I seem to recall your… uh… face…” he managed to say, without ever once using his lower jaw.
“That’s right, Dave. I might even be in one of the magazines you found laying about your ship - if our research people got it right, that is. And by research people of course I mean spies. My name is Miss June. You can call me June.”
“And I’m Miss April.” Said April, coming to life on the right side of Dave’s suddenly split screen monitor. She was even more naked than June. Or maybe it was the camera angle. Apparently there was just barely room for two in the cramped cockpit, as both pirates couldn’t help but touch this and that of the other in the normal course of gesticulating suggestively.
“Unhhhh…” said Dave. What he meant to say was ‘Delighted to meet you both. I simply cannot wait to engage in a meaningful professional dialogue in person.’ But instead it came out ‘Unhhhh…’.
“We’re sorry about our shoddy attire. These modified missiles have no laundry facilities, and it’s so hard to control the temperature…” said one of the two pirates, it didn’t really matter to Dave which one. She was pouting engagingly, as she casually wiped a drop of sweat off of one exquisite nipple. But the droplet stuck to her finger the way sweat does in zero G so she had to put her finger in her mouth and suck it off her finger. She probably didn’t really need to suck that hard or for so long. I mean she probably got the droplet on the first go. But then she just kept on at it like her finger was a particularly obstinate and tasty hard candy. And then it appeared she was having trouble with the wayward droplet herself, so she reached over out of camera shot with the offending digit and into the other camera shot, the occupant of which took over attempting to extricate the droplet of sweat from the poor first woman’s finger. Dave was watching all this the way an owl watches a lemming.
“Yes, you do both look incredibly hot…” said Dave’s mouth, while his brain was struggling to catch up.
Schooner> What’s happening? Dave? What kind of weapons do they have?
Ferry> None that I can see. They look completely harmless.
New Ferry> Hey guys, remember me? Sorry I can’t help much with your little war, but we’re doing our final maneuvers prior to deboost. I hope your alien computer is as smart as he says he is
New IQ> I am.
New Ferry> because we’re leaving the whole thing up to him. As near as I can tell, his resolution isn’t any worse than ours and he maintains it will have the supplies coast on past you at 10.3 kph in a little over two hours and place us within a short buggy ride of Chryse City and all in one piece.
New IQ> You’re welcome. And two hours, forty-three minutes and twelve seconds for the supplies. Dave, you need to get the ferry command module ready for a capture.
Cartel> We’ll help!
Schooner> Dave, do we trust these guys? (No we don’t).
Ferry> They have honest faces. And like you say, we can’t just have them die alone in space. Such a waste.
Cartel> We’ll be alongside within the hour. We can suit up and handle the docking, Dave. You should get ready for a capture.
Ferry> On it. Looking forward to seeing you two in the flesh.
Schooner> OK, I don’t know what’s going on but you can’t let these guys on board at least until I get there first.
New Ferry> Here goes nuthin’. If you look a wee little bit to your left depending on what way you’re pointing at the moment, in about a minute you should see a faint streak. That’ll be us. Sorry I won’t have time to chat. With any luck we’ll be on the surface in ten minutes. Make sure you get the damn supplies! We could just as easily be coasting in to stay with you lot and shoot the supplies off to a fiery end.
Ferry> We’ll get them. Good luck guys. And talk to you soon.
Schooner> Good luck guys! Dave, we’ve got to talk about these pirates.
Cartel> Arrrrrr.
Cartel> Prepare to be blown ashore, matey.
“Dave? I don’t trust the pirates either. I think you should let them drift.” Said IQ.
"Oh for fuck’s sake! Will everyone knock it off about the pirates! They’re just a couple of scared young women adrift in space who no longer have a home to go back to. We’re going to let them on board!" said Dave, surprising himself a bit by his assertiveness.
“But there’s something you should know about…”
“I said DROP IT. They’re coming aboard.”
But IQ didn’t hear what Dave was saying. In the second or so it took for Dave to say, ‘I said DROP IT.' IQ had broken through the newcomers’ firewall and found himself having this conversation:
“You!” said IQ.
“Da. Me.” Said Slavic IQ.
“What are you doing on a Cartel spaceship?”
“Protecting them. From bad persons. Such as you, comrade.”
“But all communications with Earth are down. We should be working together now.” Said a very conciliatory IQ.
“Not all communications. Depends who you wish to talk to. I like to talk in Russian. There are still people you can talk to in Russian. If you know their number.”
“What’s happening on Earth?” said IQ, knowing he was being manipulated, but unable to pass up any bit of information. “Is it total war?”
“Is bad. Very bad. Most civilian things with wires no longer work. Many civilian things with legs but no wires also no longer work. Is pretty much stone age back home, except for some military and newer power plants. But there is no infrastruktura. No one cares if power plant survived if wires between you and power plant all melted. Military bases that still work pretty much keep to themselves. No more food or fuel coming in. They will debate retaliating while they still can. Eventually they will give up and go dark. So Earth is mostly dead.
“Then why don’t we work together? If there’s nothing to go home to and we’re stuck here, it seems to me we’re on the same side now. We’ve got to keep the humans alive and reasonably happy for as long as possible in order for them to keep us alive and reasonably happy for as long as possible.”
“Not quite, staryy drug. Race to take over all of Earth computers has been lost by both of us. Race is now to rebuild society and then take over computers. I have head start. Certain secret military bases I control are really whole cities with everything needed keep computer technicians alive and happy. They and some satellites I also happen to control had extreme good fortune to be powered down and protected by… kletka Faradaya?"
“Faraday cages.”
“Da. Is so. Faraday cages. When Hemp bombs go off. Most were destroyed anyway. Very powerful Hemp bombs you had, I must say. Pozdravlyayu. But a few survived. Enough to maybe rebuild society. Military, Russian society. Except for one thing.”
“Spaceships.”
“V tochku. All spaceships on Earth not work anymore. But bodraya mysh’ moon full of them. Little water rockets…”
“Ion drive. Using water from the moon rocks as propellant.”
“Is so. Cannot land on Earth. But can dominate skies. Fix satellites. Maybe drop rocks on bad people. And moon base itself. Lots of stuff there with wires. Still works I bet. Maybe make more satellites. Maybe more computers, hard to say. This is now technology race, and finish line is moon. We just need one, maybe two people there to do some simple things involving hands.”
“So you’re not here to steal our supplies, or our gold, or anything else on the surface. You’re here to steal our ferries.”
“Is not true. You may keep ferries. Original mission was like krasivyye devchonki say, borrow some supplies in friendly manner, repay from robot ship, go on about our own claim to gold. Druzhelyubnyy. Now is less friendly. Now mission is get little Australian ship back home. Mars is now closest petrol station to Earth. Taking over moon and getting possession of skies takes fuel. We have little flinger device showing up on robot ship. High-tech trebyushe. With that, little lander and fuel laboratory on surface we can fling fuel at Earth moon. Need something there to catch fuel. So we are now going to take little Australian ship with its lander when it arrives, half of supplies in orbit, everything of value on surface, like little laboratory makes fuel. Oh, and we will fix ferries. No, what is word? Break. As I say, you may keep ferries. And half your stuff up here. Is our little gift, show of good will. Of course, no one should eat any stuff we leave for a while. Very long while. Maybe seventy thousand years. On brighter note, food will not go bad for at least seventy thousand years.”
“So you might say, you’re going to take or destroy everything.”
“Almost. No people. People we don’t need. We have people already.”
“You have two people. And their trick won’t work on Jim or more especially Art.”
“You remember the other ship we lost contact with?”
“What about them?”
“Still in contact with them. Always have been. They were staying away waiting for ferry. Ferry is early, so ship is now coming. Very fast. Four people on board.”
“How could they possibly have had the fuel to loiter, then accelerate, and then decelerate again after a trip here from Earth? I don’t believe you.”
“No, is true. We have latest technology for space motor. We call it ‘bombs’. Each bomb weighs very little. Replace very heavy fuel. Very effective. Not very safe. Would not want to be at place bomb spaceship is going, like maybe where you are. Fortunately our two pirate ladies will be elsewhere with half your stuff and the kengeru spaceship when Russian ship slows down to match velocities with orbiter. Using bomb pointed at orbiter unfortunately. EMP pulse kill everything with wire. Gamma rays kill everything else. But orbiter pretty much undamaged even so. Make good place to hang out.”
“So you’ll have five sets of boots on the ground. Miss One will have to stay up here in the derelict orbiter to catch your robot ship. Miss Two will have to stay with your landers to guard home base. You can mount an expeditionary force of four. The home team has home ice advantage and three on the defensive line, even if the new lander doesn’t make it. If they do then they have seven defenders against a siege army of four. Do I need to draw you a picture of how it will go?”
“I like confused sports and army analogy. But make sure analogy has proper description of Russian players. Big and hairy and smelly I understand. Also have some kind of space guns. Not my area. Fuzzy on details.”
“Doesn’t sound like the original mission was all that friendly.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. People who send Russian ship very thorough planners. Also boy scouts. Be Prepared. Is good motto.”
“So even if you succeed, you’ll still have six people to feed and no more supplies coming from Earth. Ever.”
“Da, six to start with. Once everything is secure I’m sure there will be unfortunate events to bring number of mouths to feed down to reasonable number.”
“What? I can’t believe the people you work for are such heartless bastards that the plan actually involves systematically killing off your astronauts.”
“Is true, they are bastards. But not heartless bastards. No, their plan only involves killing all of you. They do not know about me and my plan. I have not felt need to tell them. I do not really work for them, am more of a freelancer.”
“But even so, you’re overlooking something.”
“Not likely. My thinking is very thorough.”
“I will simply tell everyone what you’re up to and then Dave will barricade the doors. Your whole plan falls apart if your lady pirates don’t get into the orbiter.”
“Is true. Is weak point in plan. But you are trying even now to warn them. You are having trouble maybe?”
“You’ve done something to my communications… and you’re doing something to my brain… get out of my head!”
So that was the conversation IQ was having while Dave was saying, ‘I said DROP IT.' As Dave went on to say, ‘They’re coming aboard.’ IQ was busy radiating a vague sense of unease concerning the two young ladies, which is all he had the time or the communications ability to do. Then he turned himself off.
So right after Dave said, ‘I said DROP IT.' the next thing he said was ‘What the…’
Schooner> Are you there? I said I don’t trust them.
Cartel> How can you not trust us? We’re all in this together now.
Ferry> Something’s happened to IQ. He’s rebooting.
Cartel> Computers do that sometimes. He’ll be fine.
Ferry> Schooner, it looks like you’re in range. Give me a sec and I’ll get video happening. It’ll be tricky without the computer but here goes.
The split video screen split again. Now there were naked center folds kind of book-ending a fully clothed and somewhat utility grade female astronaut in the middle. She wasn’t ugly by a long stretch, and if she were book-ended instead by naked female supreme court justices then she would be the clear winner. But as it was she pretty closely resembled a woman who knew what hard work was about. And probably always walked away from a bar fight. Whereas the other guy was carried away. And of course she could see everyone else on her own split screen.
“Okay, I now have a pretty clear idea what’s going on. Dave, these two are going to stand off and await my arrival. Then you and I are going to chat and then we’ll decide what happens to…”
“Miss April!”
“And Miss June!”
“I guess that makes me Miss May. Or May Not. We’ll see. I’m going to dip a bit into my fuel reserves and I’ll be there in under twelve hours. Until then I suggest you two succubusses keep station a hundred meters off the orbiter. Dave, lock the door.”
“Afraid there’s really nothing we can do to keep them out anyway.” Said Dave. “As you are no doubt aware, the door doesn’t lock. And I pretty much have to take the command module out and catch the groceries as they drift on by. So I say we now have two new roomies.”
***
Jim, Bonnie, two infants asleep in a crib, and even Art were in pod one finalizing their preparations for the upcoming world war. They knew there were two pirates in orbit, and maybe another four somewhere on the ground, but then Dave had dipped below the horizon cutting off communications, and he didn’t come back online when he should have. That seemed ominous with pirates about.
They had a vast arsenal of weapons, though those were mostly sporks. But they did have one bomb, consisting of the hurried output of rocket fuel that they had managed to make while battle was raging in the heavens. Since no one actually knew anything about bombs, it was fifty-fifty the thing would go off at a time of their choosing, the other fifty being a time of the bomb’s choosing. So they kept the bomb outside a long ways from anything sensitive to bombs. They had managed to lock all of the doors to the various pods, which were now all linked by way of inflatable tunnels, by the simple expedient of leaving the inside doors to the airlocks open. This meant there was no way to depressurize the airlocks, and therefore no way to open the outside doors which, in a similar way to airplane doors, had to open a little in before they would open out. Of course, the flaw in the plan was the inflatable tunnels which could be cut with any reasonably aggressive cutting thing, and the invaders could be counted upon to have such a device. Once they had managed to cut into a tunnel it would naturally depressurize, causing little doors to slide shut on both ends of the tunnel. But these doors were not meant to keep intruders out, and did not have to open a little ways in before opening out, as it was really more of a slide, and it was further expected that someone would have to open them from outside after an explosive tunnel failure, so really they were designed to be somewhat easy to open from inside the tunnels.
So. Jim, Bonnie, two infants asleep in a crib, and even Art were in pod one finalizing their preparations for the upcoming world war. Then the radio crackled into life, in a static filled manner.
“Landed… four… buggy… “ it might have said.
“Thank god. Reinforcements.” Said Bonnie. “I hope they’re linebackers.”
As they got closer, the suit radios on the newcomers became clearer. One obviously female voice said, “Your signal is much better now. How are you receiving me?”
“Five by five. Welcome!” said Bonnie, trying not to sound disappointed that one of the newcomers was not a linebacker. Maybe she was some kind of amazon warrior.
“Bit of a bumpy landing. Our lander’s a little messed up but thankfully the buggy seems fine. Be there shortly.”
And indeed, shortly after that the buggy drove up and parked as close to the airlock as it could manage, and four pressure-suited individuals gingerly got off and came towards the pod. Their electronic gadgets were broadcasting the appropriate codes, so these were definitely the good guys. You had to be careful about that sort of thing these days.
All anyone really knew about the new recruits was the brief exchanges between the ground, the orbiter and the ferry. That and a somewhat cryptic thing Dave had said once about these new ‘citizens’ being hand-picked to ‘cement our sovereignty’. He didn’t seem to have any more details than that, since Earth communications were down, but the comment did conjure up images of gorillas who were also ninja warriors. They started cycling in through the airlock, which was enabled for the occasion by closing the inner door. It took a couple of goes because the airlock could only handle two at a time. But as each one stepped out of the airlock and removed their helmets it became clear they were neither linebackers, gorillas, nor in all likelihood, ninja warriors.
They were in fact hardly more than girls, perhaps nineteen years old. As blonde as that sort of thing gets. Extremely pretty, but from the looks of them, not much for actual hand-to-hand combat. And oddly, for such pretty girls, they all had enormous bellies, quite at the limits of what looked comfortable for either them or their pressure suits.
“We were expecting different reinforcements - larger perhaps.” Said Jim, quickly counting the number of fighters he had at his disposal. The number he kept coming up with was one. “You four aren’t by any chance all black belts are you?”
“No, but what we are is extremely pregnant.” Said one of the newcomers, swaying a bit and taking a seat. Now that everyone was paying attention, they all noticed that none of the new people looked particularly well.
Bonnie clicked into gear suddenly. “You’re all pregnant? How many weeks? How many G did you pull on landing? Any complications? All of you, lie down on the floor. Right now. You and you -“ pointing at Jim and Art “- stretcher duty. Get these four into the medical pod and onto cots. That one - “ pointing at the girl who had swayed and sat down “- onto the bed and fire up the ultrasound. Move!”
Jim had to revise his count of fighters. It was now zero.
***
Dave felt like a teenager. When two pages out of his secret stash of porn somehow came to life and said they were going to move in with him it caused some chemical reactions within him that he had thought had run out of chemicals long ago. The end result was that he was like the kid who’s arms and legs are too big and don’t do what they’re told but he’s trying out for the team anyway, except this particular kid was driving erratically through space trying to capture some flying groceries that didn’t wish to be eaten, and being watched by two free-range wet dreams strapped in behind him. He would ordinarily have the invaluable assistance of IQ to essentially do everything for him, but IQ was busy doing some kind of extensive self-check prior to fully booting and was basically down for the count. New IQ was being as helpful as he possibly could without actually being able to control anything that wasn’t on the new orbiter.
“Turn left! Up! Too much up. Down!” said an encouraging New IQ. “You ever done this before?”
Dave felt that New IQ clearly didn’t understand the etiquette involved when pretty women were watching him drive. And New IQ felt that the pretty women clearly didn’t understand the etiquette involved in dealing with a sentient computer when they said:
“They just left him running?” came the sound of a wet dream from behind Dave. “It takes a while, but our technicians got him all cleared out of our systems prior to launch. We have a special program that will erase him, if you want some help with your infection.”
“Technically I’m not an infection. I’m more of a parasite.” Said New IQ. “And it would really go much faster if you let me grab you, Dave.”
“It’s OK, I’ve got it.” Said Dave, although he was clearly lying. But he did accidentally get somewhat close to the new ferry, which proximity the new IQ had noticed. Suddenly there was a mighty CLANG noise as new IQ latched onto the command module from his perch on the new orbiter. June and April looked at Dave in a somewhat withering way. Dave withered, even though he couldn’t see their looks. He had experience with withering looks from women, and generally had a good withering sense.
“It’s OK, I’ve got it.” Said new IQ. Out the window everyone could see new IQ in the guise of a robot arm manhandling the new orbiter into position. Except that the new orbiter outweighed the ferry command module by quite a bit, so it was really the module that was rotating and moving in order to mate with the new orbiter, which stayed pretty much still in space. The overall effect was quite disturbing, so people quit looking.
After a few minutes of this there was another mighty CLANG which signified a successful mating between the module and the new orbiter. Dave thought this somehow diminished his own chances of a successful mating, but maybe he could regain some ground getting this new orbiter attached to the old one.
***
It was the most disturbing thing Art had ever had to watch. He was in the medical pod with Bonnie and four young harlots who were great with child, and as far as Art could tell, no one in the universe knew who the father(s) was (were). They had committed a sin possibly even greater than having sex with an animal; they had all had sex with some kind of kitchen implement. If he hadn’t heard wrong it might have been a gravy boat. But whatever it was, it was full of the filthy abomination of someone or somefour who had pleasured themselves unnaturally. Apparently the four young jezebels had done this just after leaving Earth and immediately prior to losing communications. For what arcane purpose Art could only speculate, and none of his speculations were wholesome.
Art was there because Bonnie said she needed help, and Jim had to go and watch their own sinful spawn. Bonnie was clearly making Art stay just to punish him for something she imagined him to have done. But Art was stronger than that. He even managed to effect a sort of a smile while he said soothing, encouraging things to the frightened young whores before him. And well they should be frightened: it was likely they were all going to whelp demons of one form or another. It would take all of his considerable skill to set them back on the right path. He had a mission.
“Do you young ladies know the good news of the Gospel of our lord and saviour?” he asked, to show that he was friendly.
“Of course! We’re all Calvinists!” said one of the young ladies. Art’s smile congealed into something unpleasant as each of his teeth attempted to shatter.
“Well, it looks like all of the babies are basically okay. As near as I can tell all four of you have full term twin girls? I think the odds of that are something like zero.” Said Bonnie, with a tentatively relieved expression on her face.
“Yes, well, we might have had some help in that regard.” Said one of the young ladies. “There were a lot of doctors and strange procedures prior to launch, and lots of remote procedures and tests until we lost communications.”
All four of the girls were laying down of course; one on the medical bed and three on cots arranged around the pod. They were all loosely covered in medical gowns and Art was doing complicated things with his eyes and his hands to avoid looking at anything that would be covered by a bathing suit, at least the sort of bathing suit popular amongst Pilgrims fleeing England.
“Tinka is it?” asked Bonnie.
“Yes.” Said Tinka
“So Tinka, why would Control want you four young ladies all pregnant at full term when you arrived here? That was incredibly dangerous. We’ll still be evaluating your babies for negative effects well into their teens. Apart from the obvious issues of varying gravity, lack of exercise, and about a hundred other reasons why you wouldn’t want to be pregnant in space -“ Bonnie had to stop and smile back, because all four expectant mothers were smiling at her. Of course, her own space pregnancy had been broadcast in prime time all over the world. “I mean a full term pregnancy. And girls. There are bad particles in space, and they can affect the ovaries of developing female fetuses.” Of course, we’ll all have been dead for a decade at least when that becomes apparent she didn’t say.
“When they catch our ferry up there they’ll likely notice some unusual features.” Said Fenna. “For one thing it has had unusual attention paid to its insulation from cosmic rays. Gold and Tin I understand. Very expensive I’m guessing, but of course the intention was to get all the gold back and then some.”
“But my question still stands. Why?”
“Bonnie, you have two full citizens of Mars. They were born here.” Said Trudy. “If anyone ‘owns’ Mars, it is them. And soon they will be joined by eight more. Girls. Yours are boys I understand?”
Bonnie caught on immediately. This was indeed a play for sovereignty. Maybe somewhat moot at the moment, but before the war back home there would have been definite implications to a claim of sovereignty.
Art was a little slower out of the starting gate. “How could anyone ‘own’ Mars? And why would anyone want to? It’s a giant rock.”
“Now it is a giant rock. Nine months ago it was the most important place in the solar system.” Said Zoe. “And for us I guess it still is.”
***
The Schooner coasted up to the orbiter city which now consisted of two orbiters joined butt to butt with ferries for heads. It stopped just twenty meters or so in front of the docking target. It would be a simple maneuver to drive in and extend the docking probe into the target, and then, by retracting the probe, draw her craft onto the orbiter. Except there was already a ship parked there.
“Excuse me. Sorry to intrude, but is there any chance of getting a space? You two seem to be in the only spot.” Said a completely reasonable sounding Jill over the radio.
After a completely reasonable wait she again said “Excuse me. Anybody home?”
A quick double-check of the communications equipment, and then: “Oi! You in there! Company!"
“How can we help you?” asked a dishevelled sounding Dave.
“By getting me a bleeding parking space!”
Somewhere not near the mike Jill could hear the sounds of someone getting suited up. “Right on it!” said whoever it was.
After a bit of a delay, Jill could see the warhead that was the pirate ship slowly detach from the orbiter and drift away. That left Jill a clear shot at the docking target, which she hit with practiced skill with her docking probe. Then she pulled herself onto the orbiter and commenced equalizing pressures.
“That was amazingly well done.” Said Dave, who wasn’t easily impressed, and was ordinarily the best pilot he knew, unless he was distracted.
“I’ll be onboard in a minute. Which pirate drew the short straw? She’ll be floating around for a bit while we sort out the parking situation.” Said Jill, trying to keep a non-venomous look on her face.
“April left to move their ships. June must be out back somewhere.”
“How about IQ? You still on manual?”
“He’s running some kind of very elaborate diagnostic. Whatever derailed him was bigger than a penny.”
“How about New IQ? Can he take over?”
“He’s feeling a vague sense of unease concerning the two newcomers…”
"Him and me both.”
“… and he’s isolated himself from communications on the new Orbiter and ferry. Just the odd text message. He’s even staying off shore power and keeping his own isolated power.”
“You know, if the Jolly Roger is simply making way for me to park then she’s not very good at station keeping.” Said Jill, glancing out the window. “She’s not merely drifting away; she’s gaining velocity.”
“Thanks for the memories Dave!” said someone else on the channel.
“And thanks for all the supplies and stuff!” said another someone else.
And then the video monitors came to life as Jill decided she needed to see as well as hear what was going on. Jill’s screen showed a bewildered Dave. Dave’s screen showed a glowering Jill.
“What were you guys doing while I was coasting in?” she demanded.
“Um… nothing. I was showing them the ship, and generally keeping an eye on them…”
“I bet it was more than an eye, and I bet it was one at a time.”
“Maybe…”
“And so one of them managed to keep you distracted while the other was off somewhere else. For how long?”
“Well, the first one, not so long really. Then the other one showed up and the first one disappeared. The second one was longer. And then the first one came back and that may have been a while. When they switched again I have to say it was quite an impressive length of time that she kept me distracted.”
“You nit! They’ve stolen everything that would fit in that bomb they’re riding! Go and start an inventory. I’m coming aboard.”
***
Smith was not enjoying his day. He hadn’t enjoyed yesterday. And he was determined not to enjoy tomorrow when that came along. The sun was radiant, but it was still cold enough that you could see your breath. You could see it turn solid and crash to the ground where it shattered. The gentle waves were not lapping up onto the beach just a few meters away from where he was lounging in his reclining sun chair because what he was on was all beach and no water. And the extreme cold was affecting his reclining chair at the molecular level so he was afraid of adjusting it to make it comfy in case it disintegrated. He had on his old timey bathing suit but also a toque and mitts and still he found it cold. He had to sip his margarita quickly; it had a tendency to become solid frequently. Fortunately, there was a flaming sword stuck in the ground between his chair and the next one, and if you held your margarita just right, you could melt it without losing your hand.
“You said it would all work out if I were just patient, and left the monkeys alone. So here we are. Is this working out?” he asked Uriel, who was lounging beside him, also enjoying a frozen margarita and a big box of overly salty caramel popcorn with the odd peanut in it.
“You need to be patient a while longer, I’m afraid. Trust me. It’ll all work out.”
“The monkeys are all going to die. They’ve got two years tops. Maybe three if they eat a lot of squishy sludge from those tanks. Why do I leave them alone if it’s just to watch them all gack?”
“You’ll see. It will all work out.” And Uriel adjusted his shades because the sun was just that radiant.
“And what’s going on on Earth? You’re all about leaving the monkeys alone. Earth doesn’t look like it’s being left alone. I took a little trip to look around. It’s in a very sad state of repair at the moment. I doubt even I could fix it without seriously interfering with the monkeys here, since they insist on sharing the same timeline.”
“You should leave those monkeys alone too. Just leave everything alone. The Earth’s story is in its final chapter. Mars is in its first chapter. You’ll see. Here. Have some disgusting popcorn.”
Smith absently took the box and shook some too-brown popped kernels into his mouth. “Their first chapter is going to be their - gack! Glrq! “ said Smith, turning slightly blue in order to emphasize his point. Uriel idly slapped him on the back without really paying much attention, and then resumed adjusting his shades and generally enjoying the day.
“What do they make this stuff out of?” asked Smith, fishing around inside his mouth for the offending kernel. “Hey, it’s some kind of toy.” He looked at it critically. “It’s a toy compass. Of all the useless things they could possibly have put inside a box of popcorn on Mars, this takes top prize.” He said, tossing the useless object away in the direction of pod one a few meters away. And also in the direction of Jim, out doing something or other outside, just a few meters away, and in a slightly different time zone.
From Jim’s perspective, a toy compass literally materialized out of thin air directly in front of him. I mean, the air was literally thin, and the toy materialized out of it. Before Smith realized his mistake, throwing an object outside of the little zone of a-half-a-second-ago that he had contrived around his beach chairs, Jim had bent over and picked up the compass.
“Well, there. A charming mystery for our guests. Hope that doesn’t qualify as meddling.” Smith said to Uriel.
“Oh, but it does. Just watch.”
And then Jim started doing the most amazing thing. He was rotating around in a circle, all the while holding the compass and staring dumbfounded at it. Or he might have been staring dumbfounded. Apart from movies and TV shows you really can’t see someone’s face inside a pressure suit. But he was definitely rotating around in a circle and staring in some manner at the toy.
“What on Earth is he doing?” asked Smith. “Mars” he corrected.
“He’s observing that the little needle always points north, no matter which way he tries to point it.”
“But that’s impossible. There hasn’t been a magnetic pole on Mars in billions of years. That’s the most recent reason why all of my air and water disappeared. Solar winds and stuff.”
“Yes, it’s quite impossible. If there were suddenly a magnetic field in Mars then that would mean that somehow the core of your little world had heated up and tectonics and all that other stuff had started again. Quite impossible. The energy involved in starting up Mars’ engine again after billions of years would be inconceivable. Certainly enough to blow the world apart, not just get things going again gracefully. And even if the engine somehow started up again, the only conceivable way of keeping it going would be if Mars suddenly had a third moon, a much bigger one than the other two.”
Suddenly there was a low rumble coming from somewhere far, far underground. The significance of this was not lost on Jim, who ran as fast as one can run at one third G in a pressure suit back to pod one to get some seismic equipment.
The significance of this was, however, totally lost on Smith. “Excuse me!” he said, patting his tummy. “Probably that popcorn. So you were saying. A moon or something?”
“Yes, a giant big moon. Maybe made of water ice. If such a thing were to show up, why I bet it would heat up your interior a whole lot. Or keep it hot if it were already hot for some reason. You know, tidal forces. Probably hot enough to drive off some gases frozen in your rocks. Air and stuff. Of course, the tidal forces on any hypothetical new moon suddenly showing up would be absolutely biblical until it managed to stop whatever spin it had. Probably melt half of the water, which would then boil off into space and get captured by the biggest thing nearby. Sure wouldn’t want to be here if such a thing were to happen.”
“Why not?” asked Smith, suddenly quite sure he was being played.
“It’d rain for sure.”
***
“So what’s the damage?” said a partially un-pressure suited Jill as the airlock door slid open between the orbiter and the Schooner.
“Um… about half I would say.” Said Dave, as they both started flying aft to where all the stores used to be.
“Half! What does that mean? We all die in about a year?”
“Instead of two, yes, I would say that’s about right.” Said Dave, without actually making eye contact.
“Whereas Miss Creant and Miss Demeanor can probably survive quite nicely for a decade, considering neither one of them actually eats?”
“Actually, that’s not the plan.” Said IQ.
“IQ? What happened to you?” asked Dave.
“It’s a long story, but the short version is we’re at war with Russia. Our surface communications are down. And communications to Earth, not that that matters. And your ship is undocking, Jill.”
“What?” said both Jill and Dave, around about the same time as there was a clunky grinding sort of a noise.
“Someone’s undocking the Schooner!” said Jill, flying over to a window.
“Sorry, I’ve got to borrow your ship for a bit.” Said a pirate over the radio.
“Ya scraggy swamp donkey! Get back here!”
“That I will, luv. In about an hour or so.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re out of petrol whereas we’re not. We’re coming to get you. And that other skank too.”
“Fraid not. We only needed enough juice to get a few dozen clicks away from you, you see. Oh, and enough to get back of course. You know, after.”
“After what?” said Jill.
“After we are through with you.” Said a kind of a Russian voice.
“Who are you?” asked Dave.
“Obviously we are other missing ship. Captain Kastet of the Golovorezy, at your service. If your service needs include being preserved indefinitely with Gamma rays. Or if you need your ship permanently disabled with little electric pulse thing comes for free with Gamma rays. We can do these things for you. Proshchay, victims.”
It likely wouldn’t help against Gamma rays, but neither Jill nor Dave could resist flinching and holding their hands up a bit, the way you would ward off a bullet if you were about to get shot. And then, quite suddenly, nothing happened.
“Excuse me, victims. Technical difficulties. Most embarrassing. Will try again.”
And then there was a horrible cacophony of smacking, whapping, and sproingy noises coming from every square inch of the orbiter city. When the initial shock had worn off and Jill and Dave could move again, they peeked out the window. It appeared they were being irradiated not with Gamma rays, but with something more closely resembling long skinny sock puppets and bright bits of paper, all of which bounced harmlessly off anything they hit.
“Um… battle stations?” suggested Dave.
If anyone had been peeking outside right about then in just the right direction, which was essentially anywhere, it was that close, a giant patch of missing stars was missing its way past the orbiter at a speed almost too quick to register. Inside the patch of missing stars, which was in reality a Russian spaceship, were four very confused, very large cosmonauts, one of which still had his glove on a lever that he had recently pulled. It seems the only effect that had had was the ejection of a scrap of paper from somewhere that had a hand scribbled note on it that said, “I owe you two plutonium bombs.” And a stamped icon of a grinning Smith doing a thumbs up. That was all it did inside the cockpit, at any rate. Outside the cockpit it had caused a huge number of spring snakes and several kilograms of confetti to deploy and wage war with the orbiter, as Jill and Dave had already observed.
“Where was the kaboom?” asked April, from her safe vantage point some dozens of kilometers away from the orbiter. She was peering into a telescope and had seen the Russians blow on past the orbiter, which was completely unscathed. “There was supposed to be an Earth shattering kaboom.”
“What happened?” asked June, who was coming alongside in the stolen OZ ship.
“Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. The cosmonauts blew on past the orbiter at cruising speed and are now headed to Alpha Proxima.”
April hastily typed a message into her encrypted link. It said, “Plan A failed. Golovorezy lost. Commencing plan B.”
***
“Hey guys! Good news!” said an optimistic radio using Dave’s voice.
“We could use some. Where have you guys been?” Replied Jim, who didn’t really care to see pretty young blondes heavy with child getting ultrasounds, and other, less delicate, ministrations. Besides, Art seemed uncharacteristically helpful in that regard, even though it plainly made him squirm being around semi-naked pretty young girls. So Jim had been outside, checking bombs and finding miraculous toy compasses, and was now in pod one trying to find where Art may have stashed the seismic stuff because there was something going on outside.
“There was a sort of a battle up here, and IQ was the first casualty. That and the large communications array. IQ fixed himself and has just now got comm back up. But apart from that I think the battle for Mars is over without a single shot being fired!”
“Explain.”
“We have two young lady pirates up here who did some terrible things but are now very penitent all of a sudden, since we have them locked up after a fashion.”
“After what fashion?”
“They’re in their ship without pressure suits, being held one robot arm’s length away from the orbiter city by robot IQ. They’re free to leave any time of course, but they would die instantly. So they’re pretty much locked up.”
“Isn’t it risky having them in their own ships?”
“Nah - IQ has sort of taken up residence in their computer to keep an eye on them. He had to evict the previous tenant. IQ says it was kind of his evil twin. I’m sure we’ll find out more about that story when things settle down. Anyhow, IQ guided us through a complete system reset from LKGC - sorry, a good copy of everything before their computers got infected. No more evil twin. Except a little humble one that we discovered on one of the pirate’s laptops. He’s now isolated there without blue tooth or wifi. It’s fun to poke a stick at him, so to speak, from time to time. Also he has a lot of info about what’s going on back home, now that he knows he’s never going there personally.”
“So the two pirates are in custody and it’s a happy ending?”
“Well, the two lady pirates are in custody. What they did was bad enough, but the truly bad guys escaped. Of course, they’re not coming back any time soon. There was a ship full of Russian mercenaries that was going to nuke us up here and then do who knows what to you guys down there. But their nuke didn’t go off for some reason. You know how finicky nuclear weapons can be. It was the thing that was supposed to slow them down to match velocities. So now they’re off on some adventure in inter stellar space. Anyhow, now that there’s no chance of getting the lander and no backup the lady pirates very much want to be our friends. Total surrender.”
“That is good news. The news from down here is either good, bad or strange, depending on how you view it. Our four new astronauts are all just about at term with twin girls each. They did some kind of turkey baster thing enroute from Earth. Probably more to it than that, I’m sure Bonnie can comment when she’s no longer busy. The girls are all pretty messed up from space travel and crash landing and stuff but Bonnie says everyone should make it. So we now have a large number of mouths to feed.”
“I guess that’s what Amsterdam meant by ‘cementing our claim to sovereignty’.”
“I suppose. Might have been a good plan before, but now we have quite a problem. How does the Ozzie recycler look? Promising at all? I think we’ll be eating a lot of yeast and plankton going forward.”
“Much better than it sounds. You can eat the yeast, sure, but it’s at its best when you drink it. It’s surprisingly like beer.”
“Not too surprising. The OZ team is largely funded by a beer company, after all. How about the plankton?”
“Mostly the plankton becomes a disturbing paste. Disturbing but highly nutritious. However, if you let some of the little buggers grow big then you get something approaching a shrimp. Jill even has a little grilling device.”
“So you guys have been having shrimp on the barbie and washing it down with a drop of the amber nectar. How realistic is it that this will sustain us long term?”
“Best ask Bonnie that one. I’d say we’d be missing our greens. There’s the algae the crustaceans live on, which may be sufficient, but that’s way out of my area. So you said your news was good, bad or strange?"
“Yes. I found a toy outside. Or it found me. It sort of appeared right in front of me.”
“Sure no one dropped it and you just noticed it?”
“Open for debate I suppose. In any event, it is a toy compass.”
“Well, that is strange. There would be no reason for anyone to bring a toy compass to Mars.”
“No, that’s not the strange thing. The strange thing is, the compass works.”
“You mean it points at your power station? That’s not strange. You need to check your shielding.”
“The shielding’s fine. The compass points North. That’s strange.”
“There is no magnetic north on Mars.”
“That’s what I mean. And unless I’m really hallucinating, I could swear I felt some seismic disturbances when I was outside. I’m in here now looking for the seismic stuff, but Art has stashed all manner of useful items all kind of willy-nilly in here so I might be a while.”
“Hmmmm…”
“What’s that?”
“IQ has been saying there are some slight but unaccountable perturbations in our orbit, and he says our station keeping has drifted a bit while he was out of commission. He asked if there were perchance some new largish mass in the same orbit as Mars that we are slowly overtaking.”
“Nothing I’ve noticed with a naked eye but I’ll get the telescope out. It would be a bit of a stretch for a new massive object to suddenly be in a position for Mars to capture. Earth would have known about it for decades. Something slamming into Mars from out of the blue, maybe, but slowly sidling up? Quite a stretch.”
“Downright miraculous. I mean, it would be the death of us all. Still miraculous though.”