Mars Fire - Chapter VIII, Sol 3
Serialized science fiction
Previous Chapters: Chapter I , Chapter II , Chapter III , Chapter IV , Chapter V , Chapter VI , Chapter VII
Chapter VIII - Sol 3 - Wednesday
The trip from Home One to Alvie Ranch took roughly two hours, with Burrows leading their little convoy on a consistent south-easterly course. The morning light painted shortening shadows over the dunes and rocky ridges that surrounded them, and a wind from the south-west threw their travel dust in long streamers to the side. The landscape was slow to wake up, and starkly beautiful once it did.
The trail they followed was no official road, but instead an oft-used lane that meandered around the bigger ridges and generally kept to the more level sandy areas, where the rovers could easily run. Red dust puffed beneath them, curling into the air as the rovers chewed up dune faces and down the other side. The occasional navigation marker greeted them as they rumbled past, tall poles of white and silver rising from the regolith to four and sometimes five-metre heights. Solar panels and lights clustered along their tops, and each one blipped a steady metronome pattern on the emergency radio frequencies. If you got lost during a storm, or at night, at least the poles would allow you to triangulate your position and get a bearing from there.
“It’s also a great way for us to demarcate the different mining claims here,” Burrows explained to Ian, after going over the initial functions of the beacons. “The original DBMC pattern was incomplete when the company folded, but we had the plans on record, and the locals kept up with the roll-out in the subsequent years. It made life a lot easier for everyone, having some hard lines to work with.”
Ian had changed out of the leak-test suit into his own, white-and-blue Euro pressure suit once his heart had calmed down, and now sat in one of the co-pilot seats on Burrows’ right. He had his helmet on his lap, and his eyes were roving everywhere through the Exeter’s cockpit and out over the vistas outside.
“We have a similar system in the Euro colonies, I think. A lot of the automated crawlers also use it for navigation.” Ian studied the one marker as they rolled past it, then followed it in one of the rearview displays. “You don’t have a lot of that here, though?”
“No, the robot crawlers are not popular here. People don’t trust them.” Burrows jerked his thumb over his shoulder to point at Dixon in the passageway behind them. “Too many things that can go wrong on the electronics side as well. If your satellite grid is too patchy, or if your area broadband drops, the robots go very dumb very quickly. We can’t afford mistakes like that here.”
“We also don’t trust remote piloting,” Dixon called out from the back. “If someone else can control your rover, someone else can control you.”
“Out here, that can be a death sentence. Especially with Union interference this close to our territory.” Burrows twitched the control yoke as they crested a particularly large dune, and the rover tilted forwards as its suspension adjusted and sent them smoothly down the other side. “We already have them interfering with human-piloted rovers - if we had to use robot units, I would bet my left leg that they would get hacked and scrambled by the Union net.”
Ian frowned in concentration, and Burrows left him to puzzle it out. It did not take the young man long to raise the next question.
“So why is that not an issue for our - I mean the Euro colony then? We share a border with them in the west too, and I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Because Union tech lags Euro tech in that regard, so they won’t push it with you guys. Out here, we are low-tech compared to the Union, so we are easy game in comparison.” Burrows spent a moment mulling over his reply before continuing.
“Think of it this way: every colony here consists of three main components. People, technology, and machines. If you have all three in abundance, then you can use the best tool for the best results. That’s where the Euro and NorAm colonies sit.” Burrows pointed down at the rover deck. “Here in the Liberty Zones, you usually only have one of those, and that’s your people. Most of us are low-tech in comparison to the big colonies, and we don’t have the machines and capital to solve big problems quickly. Whatever we want to do here, we have to do by hand, with our people.”
“Which is why you emphasize the breach training.” Ian nodded along. “That makes sense.”
“The Union sits somewhere in the middle. They have an almost infinite supply of people, and machines, which gives them an advantage over the Euros - but their tech lags the West, in almost every regard. So they won’t push you guys on the tech front.” Burrows nodded at the next navigation beacon that swept past on their flank. “Unfortunately, their tech is still better than ours, which means that they can play havoc on our systems if and when they want to.”
“Did they ever hack any of your rovers here?”
Burrows rubbed a hand over his scalp, feeling the rough stubble there, and gave a short laugh.
“Yes and no. Officially it was all accidents. A couple of years ago, just as I arrived here, there were some incidents out to the east. Marsden Mines, in particular. They had a bunch of robot units that just went crazy. Drove off into the dunes, ran into obstacles, did all kinds of weird things. One of them blew open all of its access hatches while it was still pressurised. Official story was bad software, and they abandoned the robot fleet concept after that.”
“And unofficially?”
“Union hacks, every single one of them.” Burrows snorted. “No-one in the Bear State parliament wanted to make a fuss about it at the time, because they were still trying to keep things diplomatic with the Union. This was before the Seven Craters takeover, mind you, so a lot of people here still had no idea exactly how far the Union would go to grab more territory.”
“After that, people got rid of the robot units pretty damn quickly. Many of them went up to the Argos Technostate, where their tech wizards managed to uprate and harden them against interference,” Burrows continued. “This was before Argos shared an actual border with the Union, so they must have thought it an acceptable risk at the time. But down here, after the Seven Craters invasion, no-one wanted anything to do with robots again.”
Outside, a sensor tower of some considerable size came into view, slowly rising from the surrounding lands to their left. It was anchored on a ridgeline some distance from their track, and a multitude of anchor lines spread out from its waist, keeping it erect against the ever-present threat of dust storms. It always reminded Burrows of a giant, inverted metal flower.
“That’s the 426 tower. Once you see that, it means you’re close to Alvie Ranch.” Burrows keyed one of the controls on the board in front of him, opening a line to the utility rover still following behind them. “Tail, this is Exeter - how are you guys looking back there?”
“All green, no complaints,” came Reyn’s prompt reply over the speakers. “Pope has been following the satellite feeds from your desk, I think he’s been making notes about the prospects here.”
There was a muffled noise over the channel before Pope’s voice joined in.
“I was checking their mining pattern, it seems they have opened up new digs around the old Severn fields. I can see track marks and scraper patterns there, new ones. They must be trying to expand.”
Burrows glanced back at Dixon, who gave him a thumbs-up and a shrug at the same time. The satellite feed which the CDM rover could log into, was being streamed back to the utility rover behind them, which was how Pope was spending his time.
“I haven’t been following the satellites, I was going through the shopping list,” Dixon explained. “If Pope is looking at rocks in his spare time, who am I to complain?”
“Your head is a rock,” came Pope’s retort before Reyn cut him off.
“Anything happening on your side, Exeter?”
“History lessons and tutorials, nothing more,” Burrows grinned at Ian. “I was just telling Ian about the Marsden Mines incident with the robot rovers.”
“Fucking Union wireheads,” was Pope’s only reply to that.
‘I’m seeing ten minutes left on my clock before we arrive. Let’s stay sharp.” Burrows closed the channel after that, and returned his attention to the road.
Just like the areas around Home One, the lands around Alvie Ranch showed steadily more signs of human activity as they drew closer. The settlement was located in an area where two crater rims had conspired to form a shallow valley running west to east, and when their rover began to descend into the valley from the west they were greeted with the sight of hab modules, agri domes and spindly solar farms in a scattered profusion all around them. The miners here had eschewed a large central colony in the style of Home 1, and instead went for a village-like distribution of individual habitats. Their largest central structure was a massive ore loading bay, located at the heart of the colony, and it was towards this structure that Burrows guided them.
“Rover Exeter-66, this is Alvie Control. Please confirm your identity.” The comm system crackled in Burrows’ ear, and he tapped out a response on the control board.
“This is Exeter-66. Codes on their way. We are here for the supply run.”
There was a momentary delay, after which the voice returned, noticeably friendlier.
“Welcome back, Captain Burrows. We sure are happy to see you this morning.”
“Always happy to help, Control. We’ll see you at the loading yard in two.” Burrows closed the channel, and turned to see Ian’s questioning look.
“They called you a captain?”
“Ah, yes.” Burrows gave a half-embarrassed cough. “We’re not big on titles and ranks here. I’m nominally a captain in the CDM, although it’s…” Burrows grasped for words. “It only really means something when we’re doing militia work, if that makes sense? Outside of the CDM, it has no impact on anything we do.”
“How did you become one?”
“I made the mistake of telling them a bit about what I did on Earth.” Burrows grimaced, then relented. “And I volunteered for militia work when I arrived in Bear State. After our first few missions on the border, the powers-that-be decided to bump me up the chain of command. The timing was also convenient, with the previous captain from Home One retiring around the same time.”
“What type of missions did you do?” Ian seemed captivated by the topic.
“Stupid things where we walked too much and spent a lot of time being cold. I won’t recommend it - but I also don’t think you’re going to take my word for it.” Burrows grinned again. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”
The roads here were more clearly marked, with white markers at two-metre intervals, and many of the sections had been scraped down to the underlying rock to improve the traction for the larger mining craft. Their own rover glided over it without a hitch, legs flexing effortlessly, until Burrows finally pulled into the edge of the loading yard.
Here, at the side of the truncated pyramid that formed the ore bay, a column of the heavy mining haulers was already drawn up, with a scattering of smaller rovers around them. Burrows counted four other CDM rovers in similar mottled shades as their own. The mining haulers made everything look small in comparison though, Burrows thought to himself as he rolled to a stop, and he found himself craning his head to look up at the flank of the closest hauler. Wheels as tall as their entire rover loomed next to them, battered and streaked with dust. More dust covered its yellow-white skin from nose to tail, caking thickly around crevices and corners where the wind could not scour it free, and the loading beds on each hauler was large enough to fit two of the modular ore containers which most of the Martian colonies had standardised on years ago. It was the best size and shape to fit through a typical slow-gate, and with that bottleneck as their constraint, it had made sense to make everything else fit accordingly.
“Okay, let’s suit up and go meet the crew chief for this run.” Burrows turned the Exeter over into hot-standby - where it would be ready for immediate movement once they returned - and motioned Ian towards the airlock. Dixon was already there, tucking his hair into his helmet cap before slipping his helmet on. The black visor transformed him from man to anonymous effigy, and he had his carbine in hand as he stepped into the airlock and began the vent cycle.
“Do we need weapons out there?” Ian looked at the gun rack with large eyes. “I don’t have training…”
“For you, no.” Burrows waited for the younger man to slip his helmet on first, before helping him to do a suit integrity check. “We need to certify you first, and this run is more about familiarising you with other concepts of militia work.”
“You’re also not in a CDM suit, which is going to raise questions if you walk around armed out there.” Burrows continued, before slipping his own helmet on. “So best you just stay with us, and act friendly.”
Burrows grabbed his own carbine while Ian cycled out through the lock, and then followed him. The outside lock opened without a sound or vibration, and he effortlessly slid down the ladder to the ground below. Behind their rover, the utility rover was disgorging Reyn and Pope in the same fashion.
Dixon and Ian were already waiting, Ian also having polarised his helmet, and once they were all on the ground Reyn started opening hatches on the rear of the utility rover.
“I need to sort out that delivery for the Botany section. Go ahead, I’ll get the briefing from you guys once we are on the road.” Reyn gave them a thumbs-up as the loading bay above him flowered open to reveal stacks of forty- and fifty-litre containers.
Burrows and the other three set off towards the ore bay. There was a scattering of other suited figures in the yard, moving from the surrounding buildings and clambering over the mining haulers, and several of them raised hands in greeting as the Home One crew passed. Burrows waved back, knowing that it was the CDM patch on his suit’s upper arm that was drawing their attention. Most of them were indistinguishable in their suits, and with their visors blackened, knowing who was who, was impossible. People did not like using suit IDs out here, and Burrows also found them a bit invasive at best. Suit IDs meant that systems could track and geo-locate your every move, and that knowledge was ripe for abuse the moment the wrong people got their hands on it.
They found the crew chief at the base of the ore bay, inside one of the lean-to working areas that abutted the larger structure. There were already a double handful of other CDM suits present, all armed, along with several civilian suits. Everyone had their visors cleared, and it took Burrows only a moment to spot the crew chief. Chief Graves looked like everyone else from Alvie in their bright green mining suits, and the only sign of his authority was the larger-than-usual collection of yellow utility pouches that dangled off his belt. He had a large, clipboard-style compad in one hand and pointed vigorously with the other as he talked. He also kept talking even as he acknowledged Burrows, flashing him three fingers to indicate which comms band they were on before continuing.
“...after which we should be clear for the last leg to Culheimer. I see our last escorts have also just arrived,” Burrows heard as he tuned into the correct band. Graves had a deep voice that rumbled like one of the pneumatic drills he spent almost every day manning. “Captain Burrows, good to see you and your team. We already have a slot prepared for you.”
“Always happy to help a friendly neighbour,” Burrows acknowledged, and nodded at the chief. “Where can we help you today?”
“We’re splitting into three segments for this run. Half the militia in the front, the haulers in the middle, and then the other half of the militia in the back.” Graves pointed at men as he talked, which Burrows presumed to be the leaders of the different segments. “I want you at the back end of the hauler segment. Is your satellite feed available?”
Burrows gave a quick look at Dixon, who nodded, before he answered.
“Our feed is available, yes. We tested it this morning. Do you want us to share it with the convoy?”
“That’s the plan, aye. If we can see the bastards before they find us, it gives us time to respond.” Graves paused for a moment before he continued. “We’ve been seeing unidentified rovers all along the eastern plains for days now. The stations between here and Culheimer have all reported similar sightings. Whatever it is, we don’t want to take chances.”
There were nodded agreements all around, and Burrows found himself nodding too. The ore from Alvie Ranch was its lifeblood, and losing a consignment to raiders - which could be anything from desperate wildcatters to, more likely, Union agitators - was not something they could easily afford. The same thing went for all of the settlements in the Southern District here, and Burrows recognised several faces in the crowd, in the other CDM suits. Will Nicholson, from Cora Springs, caught Burrows’ gaze and lifted a hand in greeting. Cora Springs lay four hours north of Home One, and the people of Home One often visited there. Nicholson preferred the company of machines to people, but was a good man to have at your side when things got ugly.
“Okay then, let’s get ready to move out. I’ll be in the leading hauler, with Geoffrey on the last.” Graves indicated his deputy, Geoffrey Cavendish, who stood at his side. “You all know where you need to be, relative to that. Our convoy channel will be Bear 7, and we switch every hour. Any last questions?”
There were none, and once Graves dismissed them, everyone scattered back to their respective rovers. Burrows saw Dixon greeting Nicholson, and Pope sharing a quick chat with Cavendish, and then they were back at their own rovers. Reyn was busy handing over the last of the botany crates to two suits who had appeared with a small cargo buggy. He joined the Home One huddle moments later.
“Lucky for us, no-one even noticed our new boy.” Dixon elbowed Ian. “Seems you’re off the hook today.”
“Graves noticed, all right.” Burrows felt his forehead wrinkle into a frown of concentration. The fact that the crew chief had said nothing, spoke volumes about how worried he must be. “Let’s stow that for when we get to Culheimer though. Reyn, I want you between us and that tail hauler. Keep your windscreen shutters up as much as you can. We’ll tail you about a hundred metres back.”
Reyn’s scowl disappeared as fast as it came.
“That makes sense, even though I don’t like it. We’ll be virtually blind behind that hauler and its spray.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We might have to drop back a bit as well, to keep the spray down.”
“As long as you buffer our rover, it helps.” The sensor ports on the CDM rover were protected against even the Martian dust storms - but only as long as they were closed. If they were open and tuned up for maximum gain, the debris thrown up by the wheels of the mining haulers would wreck them in no time - and if they drove with the ports closed, their sensor radius dropped to barely more than visual range. “As long as we can stay in the dust cloud behind the haulers, without picking up too much hard debris, we can hide from whoever is out there watching.”
“Felmann is going to send you a fat invoice if you wreck his baby.” Dixon waggled a finger at Reyn. “You better take good care of her with all these burly miners around.”
Reyn just snorted and shook his head. Pope, at his side, had a wide grin cracking his face.
“Okay people, enough nonsense. Let’s do this.” Burrows pointed first at Dixon, then at the boarding ladder on the CDM rover. “Go make yourself useful. Let’s show these people why they trust us.”
Dixon struck up a whistled tune as he climbed the ladder, something about being in the navy, and disappeared into the airlock.
“Don’t ask. Definitely don’t ask,” was all Burrows could say to Ian’s questioning look.
Next chapter: TBC
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