Mars Fire - Chapter III, Sol 1
Serialized science fiction
Previous Chapters: Chapter I , Chapter II
Chapter III - Sol 1 - Monday
The tunnels from the vehicle park were plain, unadorned blue plastic tubes which had been laid down and covered in regolith to help keep the radiation out, during the founding years of the settlement. Despite many plans in the subsequent years to improve them - there had been talks of redoing them with crete segments, or extruded metal segments from the old foundries - nothing really tangible had come from it. A metal grate-floor clanked and vibrated underfoot as Burrows went down their bay’s blue tunnel to join the main passageway, where the addition of extra lights and a horizontal white paint stripe on the walls were the only signs of its importance. Here, like an artery feeding smaller tributaries, a series of smaller tunnels branched off back towards other vehicle bays. Burrows saw no-one as he walked.
The end of the main corridor was another airlock, this one slightly larger than the bay locks, and Burrows patiently waited for the lock to cycle him through. Despite their best efforts at equalisation, there was also some type of pressure differential between the different main areas - and the main dome, which he was about to enter, usually operated at an overpressure due to the extra bodies and activities which filled it.
Beyond the airlock, Burrows immediately smelled the kitchen once the door opened, and after two sniffs he knew exactly what it was: spicy rice and soya cakes. It was a Monday staple at the communal kitchen, and he had eaten it often enough before Tilda had entered his life. It also meant that Pope was probably going to be there, and Burrows set off down the next section of corridor with a grin on his face. Pope loved his spicy rice.
The corridor here was green plastic, and ran for only a couple of metres before entering the main dome via a crash-lock. Burrows always had a twinge of paranoia that the c-lock would snap shut on him as he walked through, but - as always - nothing happened when he stepped through the black ring. If their sensors detected a precipitous drop in pressure, the c-locks would iris shut in the time that it takes a human to blink - which was a great safety mechanism, as long as you were not in the way when it happened. The c-locks did not stop for anything.
Beyond the c-lock, the main dome - official designation Administration Hub One, or just Admin One in practice - was a glass-clad geodesic frame that heralded back to the founding years of this territory, and Burrows always had to stop and take a moment to appreciate the sight. It rose for several storeys, with a central space left open for the public garden below, and tonight - based on the lateness of the hour, and the lowered radiation levels - the rooftop shutters were drawn back, revealing the starry sky above. To Burrows, who spent most of his days outside, seeing the night sky was not something new - but to many of the lab workers and scientists, this was their only regular opportunity to see the Martian sky, and the benches in the garden space were as full tonight as they always were.
The vid-screens around the central area were cycling through some of the news headlines of the past day - Martian and Terran combined - and Burrows spent a few moments skimming over the muted reports. Food shortages in one of the southern Liberty Zones after a leaf-rot epidemic got into their hydroponics. A naval clash in the Yellow Sea, between Union forces and the Island League; no known casualties between the drone ships. More delays at Phobos station with their slow-gate malfunctions now entering its sixth month. Reports of Union infringement from the Argos Technostate - one of the Liberty Zones to their north - after they found Union rovers and mining claims inside their borders.
It never changed. Different worlds, different people - same patterns, every single time.
Leaving the screens behind and following his nose, Burrows trailed around the one side of the dome perimeter and found the kitchen area half-filled with chattering settlers, most of them in their teens. The teens were second generation Martians, tall for their ages and gangly to Burrows’ eyes - but aside from that, they were just like the teenagers on Earth. Voices rose and fell in excitement as they discussed vid-series stars, sports news, and whatever else it was that occupied their fleeting attention, and judging by the number of untouched meals and hands being clasped under the tables, some of them were definitely not here for the food.
Pope - full name Fred Mann, although it was used as rarely as Dixon’s legal name - was in one of the corner booths, hunched over and frowning at a compad while eating from one of the dispensary bowls. His dark brown hair was held back from his forehead by a strip of electric cord, and he had a welding marker stuck behind one of his ears. Fine grey dust flaked and floated off him as he moved, and there was a distinct outline of clean skin around his nose and mouth where a rebreather had been clamped prior to his trip to the kitchen. His black singlesuit appeared clean only because black was great at hiding stains - a secret Pope had shared years ago, much to Burrows’ amusement at the time.
“Pope. You look distracted.” Burrows slid into a chair opposite the bigger man, pushing his suit bag ahead of him, and nodded when the other man looked up. “Busy night?”
“Busy busy. We had to redo one of the boring rigs again today. Again.” Pope’s voice was a rough grumble as gritty as his face, and he scowled while sticking a blackened finger into the side of his mouth to dig at something in his teeth. “The old maintenance schedules don’t even cover the hours we are putting on them now. We’ll need to go look for replacements at Rhodes sometime.”
“You look like you’re on top of it though - or close enough. Is Felix with you too?”
“Nah, he left at the end of the shift. Had something else to sort out.” Pope seemed to notice the state of his finger only after removing it from his mouth, and frowned when he noticed the amount of dust around him. “I might have been a little hyper-focused to get it done tonight.”
“I can see so - and I think Tannerly can see so as well.” Burrows grinned, and reached for a cleaning towel from a nearby catering trolley. “You look like you’ve been running through the tailing dumps all day.”
“If only you knew,” Pope snorted, and used the proffered towel to wipe across his face. His hands left black marks on the towel as he worked. Burrows could hear the coarse skin of his hands rasping against the fine fabric. “The next ore shipment is leaving at the end of the week, and I need this repair done well before then. We have that Ranger patrol coming up after that.”
“That’s still scheduled for next Monday, yes. We should have the route coordinates over the weekend.” Burrows made a mental note to check in with Major Herricks before he continued. “Did you see Dixon come through here earlier?”
“Dixon? No, nothing.” Pope looked down at his now-empty bowl, and gave a rueful sigh. “I was probably a bit distracted.”
“No worries,” Burrows grinned, and pointed at the bowl. “I remember Tannerly’s spicy rice. It has that effect on people.”
“I’m going to feel it tomorrow morning, don’t you worry. But it’ll keep me going for the rest of the shift.” Pope grimaced, and Burrows mirrored the expression a moment later.
They both knew what spicy rice did to you.
“We finished the sensor installation out at Gambi Ridge,” Burrows continued, and gave a short summary of the work. “Now we just have three more left, and then we can tick-box that contract too.”
“Nice. I read the specs, it seemed like a pretty simple design that they had. Power system seemed novel.”
“Novel is one word for it, sure.” Burrows thought back to their installation issues. “I think we are going to burn through that extra 25% fee in the maintenance clause very quickly. The Earth guys always underestimate the power issues up here.”
Pope snorted, and turned sideways to place his empty bowl - and the now-blackened towel - on the same catering trolley. His black singlesuit strained across his broad shoulders as he moved.
“If they design bad tech, it’s not your job to fix it. We fabricate, we assemble, we install - and then we get paid. Very simple setup.” Pope ticked the points off on his fingers as he talked, and Burrows found himself nodding along. “We don’t design, and we especially don’t redesign.”
“My sentiment exactly. We sent them the cleared diagnostics before we installed it, everything was green. If it goes offline now, the contract is still on our side.” Burrows thought back to the contract details. “Dixon and I take a fifty-fifty split on this one too, so it helps my finances as well. Lots of expenses to plan for in the future.”
Pope’s face lit up at the mention.
“How’s Tilda and the little one doing? Everything still on track?” The big man’s excitement was infectious, and Burrows felt a pang of heartache even as his own face pulled into a smile too.
“She’s as healthy as they get. The worst of the morning sickness is past now - now she wants to eat everything.”
Pope laughed, his deep voice booming in the corner booth.
“Enjoy it while it lasts. It passes quicker than you realise, and then suddenly you are not sleeping well for a year or three.” Pope’s smile faded a bit, and he waved Burrows away. “Go, go spend time with her. We can catch up later in the week.”
“Next Monday latest, during the hike. I’m keen to hear how the mining tunnels are coming along.” Burrows stood, grabbed the suit bag, and gave Pope a last nod. “Don’t let Tannerly see you when you leave.”
“Hah - I’m sneaking out of here in a food cart if I have to. She’ll have my hide when she sees the dust here.” Pope also stood, and began scrounging for another towel. “You better bail out before she grabs your ear too!”
Leaving the dusty Pope to his cleaning task, Burrows headed out of the kitchen area and towards the side tunnel that led to his own quarters. As the central hub for the settlement, there were several tunnels that joined the dome perimeter to allow access to the rest of the settlement, and Burrows passed a number of them before taking the north-eastern tunnel to the agriculture section. Here, between the main dome in the centre of the crater and the agri-domes dug into the rim of the crater, a number of smaller processing and habitat areas had sprung up over the years, and Burrows followed a familiar path down the green tubes until he found himself in one of the smaller hab foyers of the Section Four habitat. Their apartment was at the end of a long row of hab modules, and the foyer area itself was dimly lit from a series of green lights that slowly pulsed in some heartbeat pattern along the ceiling. The botanists called it Jungle Ambiance light, and said it helped to calm the mind.
Burrows thought it looked like the African jungles he had visited, which was hardly a calming memory.
Their apartment door slid open with barely a hiss after Burrows keyed in, and the smell that struck him here was cinnamon and cloves, and something sweet. He had barely managed to get the suit bag up on one of the wall hooks before Tilda’s voice came floating in from deeper in the apartment.
“Darling, is that you?” There was a clatter from the kitchen unit, and Burrows stepped out of the foyer and into the apartment proper. The module was a long tube, hexagonal in shape, printed at industrial scale and then laid on its side and anchored in place with tons of regolith around and on top of it. Insulation panels lined the interior, helping to keep the Martian chill at bay while simultaneously hiding the spider web of plumbing and electrical conduits that made the module habitable. The foyer and bathrooms lay at the one end, with their bedrooms at the opposite end. Between these, the kitchen and lounge area wrapped around each other in an open-plan embrace of cabinets, collapsible couches, and a veritable jungle of potted plants. Overhead, a table slab was winched up against the ceiling, taking up space which otherwise would have been unavailable at floor level.
One of the plant boughs shifted, and Tilda appeared with a mug in her hand. She was in her usual black singlesuit, with a dark green woollen shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her short, chestnut hair gleamed under the lights.
“The one and only,” Burrows replied with a grin, and spread his arms wide. “How is my favourite mother doing?”
“Mother-to-be, technically,” she replied, placing her mug on one of the counters before stepping into his arms for an embrace. The top of her head barely reached Burrows’ chin, and he breathed in deeply as he held her. He never got tired of the smell of her.
“Long day?” Tilda’s voice was muffled, from somewhere around his left armpit, and Burrows held her for a moment longer before releasing. She stepped back with a smile and those curious brown eyes of hers met his expectantly.
“Long, busy, the usual. I got to climb a really tall part of the Gambi Ridge, with a sensor mast strapped to my back. At least I get to skip the training sessions tonight.” Burrows leaned forward and gave her a quick forehead kiss. “How’re the gardens looking?”
“Green and happy, for once. I can’t believe how well they are responding to the new treatment.” Tilda gathered up her mug, then took Burrows’ hand and led him towards the kitchen. “We even got our first test crop processed today. Come have a taste.”
The kitchen area was a wraparound counter encircling a small table, and cabinets and cooking implements lined almost every surface. A pot of chai - the source of the cinnamon and cloves scent, Burrows guessed - was simmering on the one plate, while a pot of green noodles bubbled next to it. Burrows slid himself into the space next to the table and laid out the stack of cutlery and plates while Tilda added the finishing touches to the noodles, and then she joined him and began dishing up from the noodle pot.
The flavour was something between an aubergine and a dumpling, and once he added the soy sauce and got to the mince nuggets he found himself scraping the bottom of the bowl in no time. Tilda ate along at a more sedate pace, and gave him a bemused smile when he looked up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“ ‘S good. It’s really good.” Burrows reached for the pot to get seconds, and returned the smile. “You’ve outdone yourself with this recipe.”
“I keep telling you how simple this is, and you keep complimenting me.” Tilda lowered her eyes, and gave Burrows a demure glance through her eyelashes. “Why Mister Jack Burrows, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to flatter me.”
“Oh you know what my intentions are,” Burrows retorted through a mouthful of noodles, and had to snort - and clamp his mouth shut - when a dribble of sauce went running down to his chin.
“I am trying to seduce you with my sophisticated manners,” he mumbled from behind his hand.
“Such a manly man, oh my,” Tilda mocked in return, and took a sip from her mug to hide her smile. “Whatever shall I do with such a gentleman?”
“You can finish that tea of yours before I finish this noodles, and then you can get ready to find out exactly how much this Manly Man missed his wife today,” Burrows replied, and had his bowl empty at the same time that Tilda finished downing her mug. Getting up quickly in the tiny kitchen was never easy, but Burrows had her in his arms a moment later, with her legs already reaching around his back.
The trip back to the bedroom was short. The time after that was much longer.
Afterwards, as he lay in the semi-darkness and listened to her talking about her day with her head on his chest, he found his own thoughts drifting towards Pope, and the encounter in the communal kitchen.
“Has Pope ever come for counselling with your team?” Burrows waited until there was a lull in Tilda’s story before he spoke. “I saw him in the main dome kitchens after work, and he seemed sad when I mentioned your pregnancy.”
“Pope? Oh you mean Fred. No, he’s never been there.” Tilda shifted her head off his chest and onto his arm, and looked at Burrows with those dark eyes that he could never say no to. “I think some of the people here really want him to, but they are giving him space. The story with his family is a sensitive one.”
“He barely talks about it, even to us. I think he’s still holding out hope, even after all these years.”
“Hope is important. As is grieving, and moving on.” Tilda ran her hand over Burrows’ chest, and he stilled it with his own when she got to the ticklish part. “We can’t tell him when he has to go through those stages, it has to come from inside himself.”
“He’s adopting Jason now. Jason will thrive once he’s out of the creche.” Burrows thought of how the boy had come to be orphaned in the first place. “At least he’s still young, he won’t remember much of his parents after a few years have passed.”
“Harsh, but true. He’s also going to grow up with another shadow now, from Fred.” Tilda leaned in and gave Burrows a kiss on his cheek, before pulling back and getting up. “I hope we see Fred before Jason hits puberty. Otherwise those two are going to tear each other apart.”
Tilda rolled out of the bed and onto her feet, and Burrows had to spend a long moment appreciating her figure as she bent to gather clothing from the bedroom floor. She blew him a kiss when she noticed his gaze.
“I’m going to clean up, and then join the e-group for the last session. Are you going to stay up, or…”
“I’m probably going to pass out soon. This Manly Man has been fed and fucked, and is now all worn out.” Burrows folded his arms behind his head, and gave a mock sigh of satisfaction. Tilda rolled her eyes and threw his bundled singlesuit at his face.
“And to think, you were doing so well, mister. Tsk tsk.” At the bedroom doorway, with the lounge light silhouetting her, Tilda bent over one last time to give Burrows a view of what he was missing, and then she was gone, heading towards the bathroom. Burrows pulled the singlesuit off his face, and chuckled.
Three years now, and every night still felt like their first.
After that, his thoughts drifted to other things, and when he heard the shower activate his eyes were already closed. Dim thoughts swirled, the earlier memories of the day suppressed by newer, better ones, and when Tilda stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later Burrows was already asleep. She gave him a lingering look from the doorway, watching his shape sprawled out under the dark covers, and then softly closed the door before retiring to her own room for the rest of the night.
Next chapter: TBC
