Episode Twelve: Eject the Core
Marius survives the encounter with the invaders but faces new challenges and an uncertain future a billion miles from home.
The Space Cruiser USS Marius, CS-1
In orbit around Io
July 2056
I ran into the medical bay, almost colliding with one of the EMTs. My mothers had already arrived and were standing together in a corner of the med-bay in a sad embrace, Kate’s shoulders shaking, clearly sobbing. A spike of fear stopped me cold. Tears pressed against my will to stay calm—no, not Celeste.
I couldn’t see much past the partitions, but a crowd of medical staff surrounded one bed. The other held a still body, draped in a sheet, the burnt suit a shadow beneath the covering.
I went over and grabbed my mother Jenny’s arm. “Is she going to be OK? Tell me she survived. Tell me that’s not her under the sheet.”
Jenny and Kate turned to me, their eyes reddened and wet from tears. Jenny hugged me and stroked and kissed my hair. “Yes, sweetheart. Celeste will be fine. But Ahmed—he didn’t make it. That last blast and the exploding jetpack—there was nothing the doctors could do.”
“Your sister was just concussed from the shockwave and suffered some hypothermia when her EV suit malfunctioned. But a couple of days in here and a few weeks of treatment for radiation exposure, and she should be fine.” Jenny and Kate’s tears, and now mine, were a mix of relief and sadness. Celeste was alive, but we’d lost a friend.
But Celeste was going to hear from me when she woke up.
###
Marius had limped back behind Io on one engine and thrusters. The crew was busy making repairs, but we were not in good shape. Captain Bullard called an all-hands meeting, in person for bridge and science personnel and remote for engineering and service staff so they could continue repairs and run the systems.
I found myself at my workstation on the bridge, which, for now, was overcrowded. On the bright side, not everyone had to find space on the deck. We looked more like a school of fish, floating around the perimeter of the bridge, pointing towards our captain, than some kind of military regiment. Not bad, actually.
The captain scanned the group on the bridge and the section chiefs who’d tuned in on the monitors and began the briefing.
“The remaining nuke is operational, but we have barely enough fuel to move to an orbit farther from Jupiter and its intense radiation. As long as we’re behind Io, we are relatively protected. But the orbit is unstable, and we’ll spend fuel to maintain it. A Europa orbit, the best we can achieve without more fuel, is our only viable option. We’ll move the ship using the continuous-thrust engines and thrusters as soon as our repairs are complete. It will take a while to get there, but we’ll be safer with the additional two-hundred-fifty-thousand kilometers between us and the planet and the ship in a more stable gravitational environment.
“The good news is the power plant is intact and fully operational. Its location closer to the gravity wheel, behind the ablative shield, meant it avoided the major onslaught. We have sufficient power to run the ship.
“Now, the bad news. We knew we’d be here for an extended period. We didn’t count on losing half our supplies, spare equipment, fuel, water, and raw materials for the manufacturing pod. I need everyone not working on repairs to inventory our supplies and system capabilities based on your area of expertise. I want reports by eighteen hundred hours the day after tomorrow. You have thirty-six hours to find a way to extend our living environment until Schiaparelli gets here.
“Questions?”
One of the science staff raised her hand.
“Go ahead, Carla. What’s your question?”
Carla floated to the vertical to address the captain. “Sir, since there may need to be tradeoffs in supplies, etc., how long should we expect to be out here?”
“The duration of our stay has not changed from the plan. We expected to be here for eighteen to twenty-four months while the Schiaparelli was refit and made the transit to Jupiter. The plan was for the Schiaparelli to arrive in less than two years. We don’t have enough remaining supplies to be confident we can survive that long. That’s our challenge.”
I scanned the faces of my fellow crew members. It was hard to tell how people were feeling, but if my stomach told me anything, everyone was scared but determined. But was determination enough? I guessed we’d know in about thirty-six hours.
###
The reports had come in, and people seemed a little more relaxed and confident. We’d need to be disciplined about food, water, and air, but two years should be doable.
I was at my workstation on the bridge, more relaxed than I had been two days ago when the hatch cycled and Marco floated in. He flashed me a quick nod and slid into the deck restraints near the captain.
“Fuentes, what can I do for you?”
Marco fidgeted, and it made me nervous just watching him. He took a moment to compose himself. When the captain looked impatient, he began.
“We have a problem with waste management. The processing plant is operational, but I have nowhere to store the waste before processing. And if we vent it into space, we won’t have the reclaimed water we need. And we can’t use any leftover fuel for water because of the radiation, and …”
The captain put up a hand to stop him. “Whoa, Marco, slow down. Why don’t you have anywhere to store the waste? Aren’t the tanks on the side away from the damage?”
The comms officer interrupted. “Captain. We have an incoming message from Mars. Marked urgent.”
“OK. Fuentes, we’ll deal with this later. Comms put it on speaker.”
The overhead speaker clicked. “Marius, this is General Buckley, Mars Space Force Station. We’ve had an accident. An explosion during an engine test severely damaged the Schiaparelli. Repairs will require manufacturing and installing new nuclear thermal rocket engines. Schiaparelli’s launch will be delayed at least eighteen months. More details on the cause of the accident to follow on a tight beam, your eyes only Captain. Buckley out.”
The bridge went quiet. Just the shallow breathing of the crew broke the stillness. All eyes turned to the captain, who remained stoic as ever. But the consequences were evident to everyone there. Minimal supplies, damaged equipment, no fuel, and no way home.
We were stranded—half a billion miles from home.
And help was not on the way.
THE END of Book Two
Stay tuned for Book Three: Rescue Always Comes in the Nick of Time
Coming this summer