Motus, page 29
As the administrator spoke, the tablet showed a continual series of frozen and moving images that depicted the domed colony on the surface of mars, a rocket launching and exploding, and people speaking into the camera as if to convey the devastating news. “And so the colony languished for years, unable to grow, its resources depleting faster than Earth could replenish them. That was when the war came, and the company could no longer afford to send anything at all. The colony subsisted for another year and sent home as many people as they had rockets to spare. But eventually, their alternative power sources started failing them, and they had already mined the richest sources of uranium nearby. Gerald Reed, the chairman and CEO of the now defunct company, wanted to move the colony somewhere with more water and uranium. He confessed, in his last transmissions to Earth, that he didn’t believe they could survive moving the colony’s infrastructure. So, in lieu of moving the dome itself, they decided to move the colony underground, where a dome wouldn’t be necessary. I will be honest; he did not go down in history as a well-loved individual. To most, his decision was no different than ordering the colonists to dig their own grave. Today, not even the most optimistic of analysts and scientists believed the First Colonists were still alive and thriving. So understandably, news of you climbing out of the regolith is causing a stir across both worlds. We were hoping the two of you would be willing to answer some of our own questions.”
From the frown on Cassi’s face, this wasn’t the first time Jay had probed for answers. It seemed only fair to provide him some of the same clarity he had freely given them.
“What would you like to know?” Corun asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Hold on. You’re saying there’s life down there?” Francine asked, her mouth agape, her hands paused in the act of preparing Cassi’s vaccinations.
It was the second time Corun and Cassi had been interrupted. Jay had been the first to interject, asking after Motus’s population. The answer had prompted the man to fumble for the back of a chair before promptly falling into it. It seemed that number, twelve hundred people, was an order of magnitude higher than he was expecting. Francine, on the other hand, moved about the room, keeping busy and acting as if she weren’t hanging on their every word.
Even the administrator was startled by her outburst minutes later.
In response to her question, Cassi and Corun nodded in unison.
“That’s incredible,” Francine said, reaching up to cover her mouth before realizing her hands were still gloved and lowering them back to the metal tray in front of her. “I mean, we’ve been looking for native life on Mars since your ancestors first stepped foot here hundreds of years ago. We never found any trace of it at the surface.”
“Perhaps it’s only just evolved?” Jay supplied.
“Given its isolated location, that’s a real possibility. It could be one of the first manifestations of life on this planet, perhaps no more than a few million years removed from an original primordial lifeform. This could be the scientific discovery of the millennium. All the first cells on Earth were outcompeted by their progeny billions of years ago, so we can only make educated guesses as to their metabolism and the composition of their cellular membranes and genetic material.”
“But how could life possibly survive down there?” Jay asked.
Francine tapped her finger on the tray in front of her and chewed on her lip for a moment.
“You said there was uranium ore down there too, right? That’s got to be the key. There’s a theory that the first life on Earth could have originated near a natural reactor. Uranium deposits are molecule factories. The heat and free electrons they produce would help overcome the energetic barrier of many biosynthetic reactions and ensure the presence of liquid water. Radiolysis of that water would have provided hydrogen, and together with carbon monoxide and dioxide from heated carbonate rock, these gases would have formed many precursor molecules. The fatty acids and sugars your scientists discovered in the rock and managed to replicate are good examples. They would serve as the basis for cell membranes and metabolic substrates. Of course, you need more than that to support life. Fortunately, radiation is also how we nucleosynthesize new elements. Phosphorous, for example, is one of the rarest molecules needed for life due to a fluke of its formation in stellar explosions, but it can also be made by neutron bombardment and beta decay of silicon, one of the most abundant elements in the crust.”
“What you’re saying, in a very roundabout way, is that this could be our first encounter with an alien lifeform?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, looking unbothered by Jay’s dismissal of the science. “And the implication of life evolving independently on two separate planets in one star system has huge implications for the abundance of life in the universe. Enrico Fermi created the world’s first nuclear reactor, and years later became famous for asking why we hadn’t detected life among the stars. Little did he know, his greatest scientific feat was also the solution. If life is made in natural nuclear reactors, it will only arise in star systems with enough uranium left over from prior supernovae and before too much of the fissile isotope decays. And, as we can attest, those civilizations are just as likely to destroy themselves with that same resource.”
Corun had never considered how important the discovery of life on Mars would be for these people. After all, they had come from a planet positively saturated with life. Perhaps, like Corun and his people, they were tired of staring out at all the barren rocks around them and wondering if they were alone. Beyond that, her words left Corun baffled. Was she saying all life originated from just a single organism, which itself had formed out of a mixture of warm molecules and lots of time? He had absorbed too much information in the past hour for his head to comfortably contain.
“You don’t happen to have a sample of this organism?” Francine asked, her eyes alight with hope.
Again, Cassi and Corun shook their heads.
“Good, good. I could use this,” Jay said.
“Use this? How can you use something you don’t have?” Francine asked, obviously distraught to learn the organism was many kilometers beneath their feet.
Instead of answering her, he turned to Corun and Cassi, giving them an apologetic smile.
“You’ve been honest with me, so it’s time I was honest with you. Ever since you told us how many people lived in Motus, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell the Assembly. Rescuing your people won’t be easy or cheap. It’s nearly four kilometers down and possibly digging deeper every day. But that problem pales in comparison to the housing situation. You have to understand, we barely have enough resources to care for the people we do have. It’s not much different than back in your ancestors’ day. Most of our supplies still come from Earth, and the only way we can pay for it is through investments in our research. Mars doesn’t have much else going for it. That relationship is reflected in our Assembly of Martian Colonies, on which sit several representatives and investors from Earth. Chances are, if I brought this proposition before them, they would tell me to let your people carry on digging without any interference. Their investment means more to them than the headlines should word get out. And feeding and housing all of your people is not good for their investment. But if I can promise them the opportunity to study alien life, the first to be found in hundreds of years of searching, I’ll reel in the funds, hook, line, and sinker.”
Corun blinked and looked at Cassi. While he didn’t understand the man’s turns of phrase, the meaning was clear. They would help them after all, and it would only cost them a bit of slime on a rock.
“We would be immensely grateful,” Corun said, though Cassi’s relief was a bit more restrained.
“Yes. Though I should make one thing clear. Our people are not a burden. We don’t need your technology, your fancy shelters, clothing, beds, or food. We’ve survived the past two and a half centuries on our own, sourcing everything we needed from the rock and a few plants. We’ve carved out an existence that works, even if it isn’t nearly so nice as what you have here. We will accept your offer of help, not because we need it, but because we want a better life for our people. And unless you can boast going hundreds of years without resources from Earth, perhaps it is you who should be asking us for help.”
Silence weighed heavily between Cassi and the administrator for several long seconds.
“I just might,” the administrator said, a smile on his lips and a new light in his eyes. Then, as if he had never spoken, he cleared his throat and stood. “Perhaps we should pick this up another time. I’ve got a lot of work to do and many important people to meet. And I’m sure you two want a moment alone.”
“And food?” Cassi asked, eliciting a puzzled look from Corun. Seeing his raised brow, she grabbed his bandaged hands in hers. “Just wait until you taste it, Corun. They have this quail-like creature called chicken that they cover with seasonings I’ve never heard of, never could have even imagined. But the pancakes are my favorite by far. They cover them in this deliciously sweet and thick liquid called syrup. It’s nothing like barley malt or that vile stuff you made from dissolved bed linens.”
Corun was far too intrigued to be offended, at least until Jay let out a roar of laughter.
“Francine can arrange something better than dissolved bed linens, I think,” he said. “Corun, Cassi, it’s been a true pleasure. I will be checking in on you again tomorrow. In the meantime. Enjoy a restful evening. You both deserve it.”
He left the room, the sound of his sporadic chuckling audible until the door slid shut behind him.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Corun muttered, though even he cringed at the thought of the thin yellow-brown fluid they’d had to drink to survive.
Cassi patted his bandaged hand even as Francine approached her with a syringe and needle, and then it was his turn to comfort her.
The unpleasant business soon over with, Francine excused herself to arrange an assortment of foods from the kitchens. Giving them a few final words of caution about eating too much of too many new foods at once, she left them alone in the room.
“I don’t suppose I can borrow this?” Corun asked into the awkward silence, indicating the tablet in his lap with a glance.
“That’s a very personal thing to ask around here,” she said, picking up the device and taking its place in his lap. “These people guard their tablets closely. It can do more than answer your questions, you know. It can call and send messages to people over long distances. You see their faces and hear their voices as if they were standing right there in front of you. You can use it to write notes, play games, and even capture images of your surroundings to look at later.”
She demonstrated this by clicking on an icon on the screen and lifting the tablet until it was perpendicular to the floor. The black glass full of symbols suddenly transformed into a perfectly clear mirror. Before Corun could do more than wrinkle his brow in puzzlement, the image froze in time. She brought the tablet closer, giving Corun a clear view of the two of them, her smiling and leaning her temple against the top of his head, while he squinted forward in bemusement.
She chuckled as he continued to gawk at the device.
“That’s called a selfie. It’s an important part of their culture, so I’m trying to practice.” She dragged her finger across the screen to reveal another image, this one of just her, sitting back in her reclined bed, smirking back at them. The next image was similar, but it began moving in real time, the image of Cassi turning her head this way and that before bringing the screen closer to her face. It showed her ear, then her forehead, and lastly her eye as it blinked straight at them. The real Cassi let out a snort and pointed at the small dome of glass at the top of the tablet. She was in the middle of explaining what a camera was when Corun’s inattention became obvious.
“What is it?”
“I can’t help but think we could have come to the surface long ago if the board hadn’t suppressed all knowledge of it.”
“I’m sure some of them legitimately believed Earth would never come and that the surface would remain inhospitable forever,” Cassi said, her quick answer suggesting she had already thought a lot on the subject. “Most, I’m sure, were more concerned about losing what power they had over the rest of us if we were ever rescued. From what I’ve read of Earth, human history is written by those in power, and inconvenient facts have a way of disappearing when that happens.”
“You don’t think anyone on the board knew, do you? The recording was in the Archives the entire time.”
“While it might explain why they were so against us ascending, Wolfram strikes me as a true Descensionist. If he knew there was nothing but molten rock down there . . .”
Corun nodded, but that was not the only thing bothering him.
“Maybe they were right to hide knowledge of our origins. Not knowing, we were content to stay far away, if for no other reason than the cold. As soon as we learned of the Surface, we didn’t let anything stop us from going to see it for ourselves. I could have killed everyone.”
“It was my fault, Corun. I was too hasty and didn’t think things through. I’ve done a lot of reading since they pulled me out of the mineshaft. Hundreds of things could have killed us before we reached the surface, and I didn’t even think of half of them. It was sheer luck we survived.”
“I hope, for Motus’s sake, that that luck continues,” Corun said. But it sounded like that would depend on people far away on Earth, and on Jay’s ability to convince them to invest in the rescue. No matter what their decision, he wouldn’t keep fighting for that outcome, even if it meant digging there himself. But soon all thoughts of instigating another insurrection disappeared as Cassi brushed a finger across the bandages on his cheek and down to the collar of his gown. She tugged it back to peer beneath.
“Exactly how extensive are your injuries?” she asked in an innocent voice.
He smiled and pulled her closer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Corun lowered the head of his pickaxe to the hard stone floor and let out a ragged breath. His palms throbbed beneath his thick gloves, the calluses he’d spent five years building having all but disappeared. He was grateful to have the use of his hands at all. The past two weeks had seen his fingers go from swollen black and blue back to healthy pink skin. Now, the only sign of his trial on the surface of Mars were two crescent-shaped scars on his cheeks from the metal oxygen mask and a couple millimeters of skin missing from a few of his toes. His stamina was about the only thing that hadn’t suffered from the long recovery, thanks to a rich and nutritious diet. That didn’t make mining in a twenty-kilogram spacesuit any easier.
But he wouldn’t give up now, not when Motus was mere meters away.
Corun stepped clear of the slag that had accumulated around his feet to allow a compact vehicle to scoop it up and haul it away. Rhyo would discard his trusty wheelbarrow the moment he saw the contraption. Corun couldn’t wait to introduce his friend to everything this new world had to offer.
Locating the straw in the corner of his suit’s helmet, Corun took a long sip of the cleanest water he’d ever tasted. Sighing in contentment, he opened his eyes to see a crowd of similarly suited people standing in the tunnel, nervous expressions on their illuminated faces. Most of them were watching him intently.
Self-conscious, Corun sought out a familiar face.
Cassi stood in the middle of a trio of scientists, all leaning over the tablet she held.
She never seemed to mind the attention. Seeing her there, he was reminded of her confession many months ago when they sat in nearly the exact same place at the bottom of the mineshaft. Her dream was to teach. And so she was. Granted, instead of teaching miners the rudiments of reading, writing, science, and math as she expected, she was spending most of her time in the company of researchers who knew far more on those subjects than she. On Motus, however, she was the undisputed expert, and she happily shared all she knew on their history and technology. Her political acumen was concerning to Corun, who saw her quickly embed herself in the colony administrator’s scheme to shed the Mars colonies’ reliance on Earth. Cassi had assured the administrator that the colonies, bolstered by the expertise and workforce of Motus, could improve food, energy, and manufactured goods independence. But none of that would be possible without overthrowing Motus’s current chairman of the board and CEO, Kyan Wolfram.
There was now an unspoken agreement. Jay would help them overthrow their oppressor, and they would help him do the same.
That time had nearly arrived.
A few days before, Cassi and Corun had returned to the mine from which they’d climbed two weeks ago, cold, starving, and with little air to breathe. Now, the cavern that was their former second basecamp looked entirely different. Generators, power cables, lights, heaters, and portable shelters had sprung up in the flattest part of the sloping cavern. There they stayed with a team of engineers, politicians, scientists, and support staff, waiting for word from below that they were nearing the city. The excavation had taken longer than anticipated, the sophisticated mining technology incompatible with the cramped confines of the mineshaft. Hours earlier, the message reached them via tablet. The mining crew’s rock-penetrating scans had just detected a cavernous space meters away.
They had donned their custom-made space suits, a precaution against introducing illness to the unvaccinated populace of Motus, and descended the winding stairs of the mineshaft. They had been sitting at the bottom of the mineshaft for an hour, watching the small bulldozer and jackhammer operators make quick work of the compacted slag before Jay joined them. His first order of business had been to wave forward two of his overburdened staff to present Corun’s old pickaxe. Every chip and divot in the metal had been repaired, the metal burnished to a shine, and a genuine cow leather handgrip added to the haft.
