The Orthogonal Galaxy
Chapter 10

“Ah, hereis box of tools we will need.” DmitriBoronov had rifled through the contents of one workbench after another in theunder-ground bunker. He looked up at hisnew colleague. “I must apologize. I am not usually so careless withequipment. I am some little off routinewith your arrival.”

“No problem, Dmitri,” accepted GarrisonO’Ryan. “I knew we would replace thetoolbox. Even Martian gravity issufficient to keep things from floating off into—”

The junior astronaut was cut short by thickdarkness, so complete that in looking all around him, he could make outnothing—not a scrap of light to be found anywhere.

“Dmitri, what happened?” called O’Ryan loudly, asif the sudden darkness had greatly increased the distance between the twoastronauts. After a series of loadclicks were heard, a faint blue-green light filled the room. Thankfully, O’Ryan’s companion, toolbox inhand, was still right by the workbench just a few feet away from him.

“We lose power,” Dmitri answered. “Emergency battery system has engaged, whichis why the light is so dull now.”

“Dmitri,” Garrison’s voice cracked withconcern. “How often does this happen?”

“Must be less than once every two years. I have not seen this happen since I come.”

“What could cause a power outage?”

“My guess is malfunction in power deliverygrid.” He set the toolbox down. “This will likely put our gauge repair workon back burner.” He said this lightlyand with a smile, hoping to ease the concern of his new comrade.

He placed the headset from his space helmet overhis head and turned in on. “MissionControl, this is Boronov. We noticepower failure in bunker at local time…” He looked down at his digital watch,which kept track of two different time zones. “…Local time: 17 hours, 21 minutes; central time 07 hours, 22minutes. Please advise of repair work ormaintenance procedure required.”

Boronovlooked up at his companion. “We shouldhear from mission control in 10 minutes. Meantime, we go look at power array control panel.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s something simple that we’llspot quickly, like a plug that fell out of an outlet?” He smiled in order to prompt Boronov on hisjoke. The Russian returned the smile andbegan walking back to the bunker entrance. As O’Ryan placed a firm grasp on the lever of the steel door connectingto the underground tunnel, Dmitri noticed a sensor panel next to the handle.

“Het!!!” shouted the Russian slipping into hisnative tongue, but the warning was too late.

With a click of the latch, the door flew outwardand O’Ryan fell face first onto the concrete floor. Blood stained the spot where he landed,lacerating his forehead upon impact. Heclawed at the ground, but found himself being dragged slowly on the surface bya gale force wind, as if a vacuum was sucking all of the oxygen out of thebunker. Boronov embraced a support beamon a workbench near to the door and gasped for oxygen as the rushing wind ofthe bunker replenished the depressurized tunnel. He shielded his face and head as best as hecould, while small objects flew by. Anassortment of hardware glanced off of the Russian’s body as they sped throughthe recent breach in the environment. Worried about his partner, he peeked under his arm to see the bodypulled by the unseen force, a small trail of blood marking the straighttrajectory of the body as it slid down the poorly lit tunnel.

As Garrison gasped for oxygen, he felt his lungsfilling with more dust than air. Realizing how helpless he was during this violent turn of events, heattempted unsuccessfully to scream for Dmitri’s help just as everything stoppedas abruptly as it began. He lay on theground, drained of energy and choking in a mix of dust and blood that wastrickling into his mouth. He looked upto see a pair of astronaut boots arrive.

“Garrison, you alright?” asked a voice in a thickRussian accent.

Coughing more than answering, O’Ryan rolled tohis back, lifted his head and nodded. “I—think—so.”

Boronov collapsed to the ground and rested hisback against the wall. Breathingheavily, the two astronauts took some time to recover in the dusty, darktunnel. At last Boronov raised himselfand ran down the tunnel towards the greenish hue where Garrison was standing atease just a couple of minutes before. The sound of footsteps dimmed, faded away, and then quickly resoundedtheir echo into the tunnel. Dmitrikneeled at the head of his colleague. Lifting his head with one hand, he slowly poured water into Garrison’sdry mouth with the other. As the liquidtrickled down his throat, it had the effect of a life-giving elixir.

Raising up on his elbows, Garrison’s senses werereturning. “Dmitri, what happened? What is going on here?”

Boronov took a deep breath. “When you went to open door, I rememberenvironment sensor. Green light meansenvironment on other side of door is safe. Red light is not safe.”

“So, the light on the sensor was red?”

“No, the light on the sensor was out. It had no power. On Mars, one must never assume environment isgood.”

Garrison hung his head. “Dmitri, I’m so, so sorry. I—I—“

“Friend,” whispered Boronov. “It was easy mistake, with big lesson. At least we are both ok.”

As O’Ryan’s faculties slowly returned, he lookedaround him. The tunnel was too dark tosee anything. He could only see theentrance with its green glow about 15 feet away along with a dark black streakmarking the trace of blood left by his head as it was dragged down thetunnel. “Dmitri… if the atmosphere wasdepleted, then why didn’t all of the oxygen escape…” He lowered his voice,“…and continue to drag me unprotected to who knows where?”

Boronov answered by flashing a torch towards thedark end of the tunnel away from the bunker. Garrison looked around to see a steel door sealing off the tunnel aboutthree feet from where he lay.

“I still don’t get it,” said O’Ryan shaking hishead slowly. “What caused the breach inthe environment if that door is closed?”

“There is mechanical pressure release on everydoor leading away from bunker. Withsudden drop in bunker pressure, a latch releases the doors from ceiling, andcloses off the breach.”

Garrison was trying to piece the puzzletogether. “Ok, so when I opened thedoor, this tunnel was vacant of oxygen, the sudden change of pressure created awind that felled me like a tree to the ground and dragged me here. Then, this huge door drops out of the sky andseals off the bunker and tunnel.”

“Yes.”

“Do you realize that if the mechanism hadreleased any later than it did…” Garrison gulped for more air. “…I’d either have been crushed by that door, or I’d be outside floppingaround for air like a fish out of water?”

Dmitri did not need to answer that question.

“Come,” said Dmitri. “I help you up off floor. There is cot in bunker where you can rest.”

Dmitri helped his companion off the ground.O’Ryan’s head throbbed violently. Holding his forehead with one hand, he braced the other on Boronov’sshoulder as the two walked back into the bunker. The slow walk to the cot proved painfullylong for O’Ryan, as his head continued to pound with each step. At last, he swooned onto a cot which, bycomparison, felt more comfortable than any bed he had ever slept in. His eyes fell closed, blocking the blue-greenlight from view until Boronov returned with a first aid kit and dressed thewound. Garrison winced as Dmitri dabbedantiseptic all around his forehead. Withthe bandage in place, O’Ryan fell into a state of restful unconsciousness.

…

A voice echoed in the distance. “Boronov to Mission Control. I still have not received response. Please copy.”

Garrison O’Ryan opened the eye which was leastswollen and at first saw nothing but a green hazy glow about him. Opening the other eye as far as he could, hefocused and looked around to see racks of boxes. The perspective was not helpful, so he sat upto get a better look around. Hisrebellious head did not approve of the maneuver as a pain shot from hisforehead to the back of his neck. Looking around again, he saw another cot across the way, identically tothe one on that he was on. He saw asmall stand next to his own bed with a tumbler of water and a dish with largeround cracker-like bread. He suspectedthat Dmitri had set this down for him in order to nourish himself after hisaccident. Since his mouth was dry andthroat parched, he first drained a few ounces of water from the glass and tooka bite of bread. “Ah, yes.” He thoughtto himself. “A meal fit for anastronaut. How does NASA come up withthis awfully engineered stuff? It’s likeI’m back on the Mars shuttle again.”

Regardless of his disliking for the nutritive, heknew that his body needed the sustenance, so he methodically consumed the plateof bread, chewing only as fast as his head would allow without convulsing inpain.

Dmitri returned to check on his colleague and satdown on the edge of the cot opposite of Garrison’s, looking dejected,concerned.

“Dmitri,” called Garrison quietly as he looked upwith his head askew and with eyes half open. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“About three hours.”

“Dmitri, about the door… I’m very sorry.”

“No need to worry. All is fine,” reassured the senior astronaut.

“What have you heard from Mission Control on thiswhole affair, Dmitri?”

“Nothing.”

O’Ryan paused to grasp the meaning of this shortanswer. “You mean they don’t know whathas caused the power failure?”

“No, I mean I have not heard anything. It appears that along with power failure,there is comm failure too.”

“I would’ve hoped that communications were onbattery backup.”

“They are supposed to be. The failure must be worse than we fear, sincewe have lost power and comm,” Boronov pointed out.

Garrison tried to stand up in anxiety for theirwelfare, but his head began to throb intensely as he did, so he laid back downon the bed with his hands clasping his temples.

“Dmitri.”

“Yes, Comrade?”

“If we can’t communicate with Mission Control,then we must assess the situation and figure out what to do.”

“I agree,” said Boronov flatly. “As you have slept, I have been thinking ofthis too. The main thing we must do isassess why power failure has occurred. We must restore the power if we are to evacuate.”

“Evacuate?” inquired O’Ryan, sitting up to theedge of the bed again. “Well, you don’tthink it is that dire, do you, Dmitiri?” I’m sure we can make repairs for anything that might have problems.”

“But, we will not be able to speak with Mission Controlon repairs needed. We have somemaintenance manuals here in bunker, but any difficult repair instructions needto come from experts on Earth.”

“Okay, but you just said that we’ll need torepair power to evacuate. Why do we needpower, and more importantly, what if we are not able to repair the power orcomm problems ourselves?”

Boronov weighed these questions, drew a deepbreath and began to explain. “To answerfirst question, we need power to operate SAR pad. It requires much power, and cannot operate onbattery backup. The SAR pad isnecessary, because without it, we have just one parachute.”

Garrison strained to understand, but didn’tunderstand why a parachute was needed. He raised his eyebrows, and threw up his hands in the air.

“Garrison,” said the Russian leaning forward onhis cot. “Iowa is only Mars Shuttle onsite. You flew it here from Moon. It only carries one person. Without SAR pad, we cannot replicate othershuttle to carry both of us back to Earth.”

“Dmitri, I think we’re crossing bridges before wecome to them. Let’s first go see if wecan assess the problem with the power, and then we’ll start planning anycontingencies that might be needed to solve our problem.”

“It is nighttime now,” pointed out Boronov. “I believe we must wait for daylight toventure above ground.”

“But what will we do if we can’t restore power?”

“Ah, yes. If that is case, you will become very familiar with this room, as wewill remain here until rescue.”

“Wait, here? Until rescue? How long will that take?” Concern rang through O’Ryan’s voice.

“Do you not recall emergency procedure? In worst-case scenario, we must wait in here,as it will provide up to three months of nourishment, water, and oxygen.”

“Let me guess,” Garrison said rolling his open eye. “The CO2 scrubber doesn’t work on batterybackup either, huh?”

“Yes, it does, but battery will not last forever,neither will food or water. Threemonths. We must hope rapid preparationsare made on Earth if rescue should be required.”

“Is three months long enough to be rescued?”

“One piece of good fortune, my comrade, is thatyou just arrived. We both know that thismeans the distance from Earth to Mars is nearly at its closest proximity. Support vehicle carrying rescue crew travelsslowly compared to Mars Shuttle, but three months will be enough time for themto arrive.”

After a few moments of reflection on the part ofboth astronauts, Garrison broke the silence with another question. “Dmitri, didn’t you say that thedepressurization sealed us off with those steel doors?”

“We will not be able to exit through tunnel. We must take trap door, instead.”

“Trap door?”

“In back of bunker is emergency exit, completewith pressurization chamber. We cansafely enter the chamber without risk of much loss of oxygen since chamber isvery small. This chamber opens intotunnel which goes up to manhole cover, which we called ‘trap door’ if I recallcorrect from training.”

“Oh, yeah… I remember too now that you mentionit. I’m a little slow right now withthis head injury.” Dmitri looked up asif to see the wound on his forehead, and felt it with an index finger. It was well-dressed, but moistened with bloodand needed to be changed. Knowingly,Dmitri picked up a first aid kit from the floor and placed it on O’Ryan’s sidetable.

“Thank you, Dmitri. I should redress this.”

“Yes, and then we must both try to rest untildaylight there isn’t much else we can do for now, except…”

Dmitri stood and faced away from his companion,as if trying to hide something. He turnedon his headset and spoke, “Boronov to Mission Control, do you receivecommunication? Please copy.”

He returned and sat back down, watching Garrisonchange the bandage on his forehead slowly, but thoroughly. As he did so, he counted the seven stitchesthat his companion must have given him while he was unconscious. Garrison looked up at the green cast lights,looked back down at his companion and began to chuckle lightly.

“What is funny?” Boronov asked with as muchcuriosity as irritation.

“In this room with its light, I can’t helpthinking about how we must look like little green Martians in here.”

Boronov’s lips slowly curled upward as hesnickered at the thought. “Yes, we mustbe an odd set of life forms in this universe… Anyway, we must lie down and restnow. Tomorrow we will need energy andgood thinking to figure out what we need to do.”

As Dmitri lay on his cot and cover himself with alight weight blanket, O’Ryan sat for a while longer on the edge of his bed, butwithout conversation, found that he was feeling effects of extreme exhaustion,so he lay down and both astronauts fell into a restless sleep.

…

Garrison woke up feeling groggy and looked overto replace his companion’s cot empty. Hesat up and called out for Dmitri. Atonce, he heard the steps of boots on the concrete floor approaching.

“Garrison, how are you feeling?” Dmitri asked with concern in his voice.

“Better. Say, what time is it, Dmitri?”

“09 hours, 13 minutes,” answered Boronov,consulting his watch.

“We must go look at the power array.”

“Yes, yes, but you must eat first.” Boronov gave Garrison an energy bar and drinkfor breakfast. “I have alreadybreakfasted this morning.”

Garrison smiled and shook his head knowingly atthe nourishment. “Ah, yes. An astronaut’s manna, this. Still no cheese steak sandwich for me, eh,Dmitri?”

“I fear there will be no more for either of us,until we get this camp back in order.”

“Well, I guess if it worked for me on the ride inthe shuttle for a couple of weeks, I can gag down a few more of thesebars. I wonder how they compress thesawdust into such perfectly shaped rectangles.” He shrugged and accepted the nourishment. Standing slowly, he found that he wasactually better on his feet than he expected. Suiting up took about ten minutes, while Boronov disappeared to dosenior astronaut work, apparently. Placing his helmet under his arm, he ventured off, not knowing exactlywhere he was in this cavernous bunker in relation to the entrance the pair ofastronauts had come through the night before. Wandering amidst stacks and stacks of well-supplied shelves, he studiedhis surroundings. At last, he heard arustle somewhere to his left. Heventured down an aisle to follow the noise, and discovered Boronov working at aworkbench.

“Right. You are ready, then?” asked Dmitri when he spotted his partnerapproaching.

“Yes,” said Garrison. “Let’s solve this problem and get back to themission at hand.”

“I’m just packing some tools and manuals that wewill want in our investigation of the system.” He patted the top of a large spiral bound manual.

Garrison looked at the cover. ‘CampMars: Power Subsystem.’

Dmitri closed the box and started away withdetermination. Garrison followed shortlybehind as they ventured deep into the recesses of the bunker, until they cameto a door, similar to the fateful door which O’Ryan will never forget opening inerror.

“There’s no light on the panel, Dmitri.”

Nodding, he replied, “I expect that to be. We will chance this door, for tworeasons. One, it is a smallpressurization chamber. Very littleoxygen will be lost. Two, we must trustthat the containment door dropped on this passageway as well. It is a chance we must take.”

The pair placed and sealed their helmets, andGarrison deferred the job of opening the door to Dmitri this time, fearing thathe should make another critical mistake. As the door opened, there was no rush of air. The environment on the other side wasidentical. O’Ryan peeked in to seeanother door just a couple of feet away. Boronov stepped inside and motioned for O’Ryan to do the same. Upon closing the door, Dmitri reached for alever which opened a vent. The sound ofrushing air reminded Garrison of the tour that he made with Ayman and Dmitrijust the day before, when the garage of the workshop was depressurized inpreparation for departure in the Mars Terrain Vehicle.

Dmitri grabbed the handle on the outer door of thepressurization room. “Nobody has steppedinto this next tunnel,” stated Dmitri with an air of concern and suspense as helooked at his companion.

“But we must go on,” reassured Garrison. “What could you do so wrong, Dmitri, afterseeing what I did to us last night?”

Encouraged, Dmitri pulled the lever release andopened the door without incident. Bothastronauts leaned forward, gazing into the darkness. Dmitri lit his torch first and shined it intothe tunnel. The beam of light shownthrough a haze of red dust particles. Garrison flicked on the beam of light from his torch and followed Dmitriinto the narrow tunnel, barely tall enough to fit their staturescomfortably. They walked for 50 yardsuntil arriving at a stair well.

“Going up?” asked Dmitri playfully in an effort to release the tension.

“After you,” teased Garrison.

They climbed into a stairwell which seemed to goon for many stories of back-and-forth climbing. Neither astronaut counted the number of steps, but both were glad thatthey were doing this climb in the gravity of Mars and not Earth. At last, they arrived on a low landing wherethe concrete stairs ended abruptly. There was about four feet of distance from the floor to the ceiling, soboth astronauts were kneeling here. Shining their torches upward revealed a yellow painted square whichmarked the boundary of the trap door. Reaching up, Dmitri felt for a release mechanism and found a handle witha trigger. With a click and a gruntwhich was audible through their helmet comm system, he tried to force the dooropen.

“Won’t budge?” asked Garrison.

“No,” grunted the Russian as he pushed upwardwith his arms and back, attempting to gain leverage on the door.

Garrison came to Dmitri’s side and assumed asimilar position. As the two pushedtogether, they could feel the door give about an inch or two, and after severalmoments gave up the effort.

“It feels like there’s something blocking it,”pointed out Garrison.

“I can’t imagine that would be true. We do not have junk just lying around thecrater.”

“Either way,” shrugged Garrison. “What are we going to do now, Dmitri. This door, as you have said, is our only hopeto assessing the power failure at the array. But why can’t we go back through the main entrance. With the pressure door deployed, we can useit as a pressurization chamber.”

“We lose too much oxygen in main tunnel. We would risk not surviving a rescue effort,if this situation gets that far.”

“Well, we’ve got to get through there, Dmitri,somehow.”

“Do you have a crowbar in that tool box? Perhaps we could pry the hatch open?” Garrison brainstormed out loud.

“I didn’t bring crowbar. It didn’t make much sense for a powerrepair. But, it is good idea. I should return to get one. You wait here.” Dmitri began his descent intothe bunker.

“Dmitri, wait.”

Dmitri turned, flashed his torch upward to lookat Garrison.

“Is it a good idea for us to separate?”

“Perhaps not,” admitted Boronov. “But you are not at 100 percent health. I prefer you not to have to climb stairs againso soon. Our headsets will remain inrange should we need to communicate.”

Garrison deferred his judgment to that of thesenior astronaut and sat down on the landing with his back against the slab ofconcrete forming the wall of the tunnel. He turned off his torch to save battery, and watched as the dim light ofDmitri’s light descended deeper and deeper into the ground until it haddisappeared completely from view.

Garrison was not sure how long Dmitri had beengone, as he nodded off in the quiet darkness of the tunnel, until his partnerhad arrived with the crowbar. The twoworked with the crowbar for some minutes before having to admit defeat again.

“It’s budging farther with the crowbar,” admittedGarrison, “but we still can’t get it to open enough to exit. I don’t get it, Dmitri.”

“The hinges must be frozen from inactivity.”

“We really need to get out there and assess thesituation.” Garrison lowered and shookhis head, frustrated at the chain of events that was starting his mission soominously.

“I have two ideas. First, we try light explosive.”

“Explosive?” asked O’Ryan.

“We have small charge which can blast the hingewithout damaging tunnel.”

“I don’t know, Dmitri. If the explosive causes a cave in, then wecut ourselves off from our only exit. Let me hear your second idea.”

“Cutting torch. We cut through steel, but the torch will be difficult to bring way uphere. It is big and heavy.”

“Then, we’ll take turns carrying it up,” offeredGarrison. “The idea of an explosive… itsounds too risky.”

“You are not at full health,” pointed outDmitri. “It would not be advised for youto carry the torch.”

“Dmitri, I’m well enough. We simply must get through that door. Besides, you have been exhausted walking upthe stairs twice. You’ll need to do yeta third trip. That’s nearly 500 feet ofstair climbing in one day.”

“Yes, but at a third of gravity, it’s more like150 feet, or 15 flights of stairs. It isno problem, really.”

“But you pointed out that this next trip will bea bigger deal, dragging up a heavy cutting torch up—Dmitri, let’s notargue. I will come down and help youbring the torch up.”

The senior astronaut yielded to the persistenceof his younger companion, and the two shared the job of hauling the torch up500 feet of stairs, a task which proved less tiring since they were able tohave periods of rest while the other grunted up the stairs.

Boronov did the cutting, which proved tediousbecause of the thickness of the door, and the fact that the work was entirelyoverhead. Since there was little room towork on the top landing of the stairwell, O’Ryan remained on the landing belowto watch his companion work. Boronovbegan cutting by making four perforated straight cuts along each side, justnext to the yellow lines marking the edge of the square door. Then he connected one perforated edge toanother to form corners of cuts. Heworked on connecting the corners closest to him, so that when the door finallygave on any remaining connected steel, it would drop down from the ceiling insuch a manner as to swing away from him.

“Just two more cuts to go,” Dmitri called to hiscompanion.

A hazy brown light from outside began to filterthrough the cracks where the cuts had been made. He set the torch to work on the second tolast cut, and jumped back when he noticed a sudden increase in light indicatingthat the door was finally collapsing into the stairwell. The door swung away from Boronov asanticipated, but what he wasn’t expecting was the vast quantity of debris whichcame flowing into the tunnel as well. Broken chunks of concrete and asphalt mingled with Martian dirt rushedinto the tunnel, forcefully knocking Dmitri to the concrete ground.

“Dmitri!” screamed Garrison shielding himselffrom a shower of rocks which were now bouncing down the stairs. He jumped away from the falling debris untilthe commotion ceased. Working past rubbleon the landing and stairs, he was finally able to make his way to the upperlanding. Obscured by dust, Garrison atfirst was having difficulty assessing the situation. “Dmitri! Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

There was no immediate response from Boronov, andO’Ryan feared that he might have been knocked unconscious from the blow. As the dust settled, he saw nothing but apile of rubbish filling much of the upper landing. Boronov had been completely buried. Garrison furiously pulled chunks of concreteand asphalt off of the landing using nothing but his hands for tools. With each effort, the sound of rock andconcrete bouncing down the stairs kept rhythm with O’Ryan’s effort to extricatehis companion. After fifteen minutes ofwork, he felt a soft lump, which he quickly recognized as the spacesuit ofDmitri. Working harder, he continued tosweep the debris away, until he had removed his companion, who was able to situp against the wall of the stairwell, still shaken from the incident. He looked up to see streams of light throughthe pile of debris.

“Dmitri! Can you hear me? Are you inpain?”

“What—happened?” Dmitri asked in a daze.

“When the trap door opened, a flood of debriscame down on top of you. Are you inpain?”

“A little, but I do not think injuries are toobad,” Boronov stated. “I simply do notunderstand. There should be nothingblocking this emergency hatch. Camp iskept free of stuff like this, and yet it is clearly garbage from camp. Blocks of concrete, road asphalt? There is a landfill, but it is on east sideof crater near SAR pad, where junk is recycled as material for SARoperation. This hatch should not lead usthere.”

“Well, we will know where this came from once wecan get above ground and see what it is and where we are at,” pointed outGarrison looking at the streams of ruddy light. “But that will have to wait. Wemust see to your injuries first. Do youthink you can stand?”

Boronov nodded, and slowly, Garrison helped himto his feet with a few grunts and Russian words which O’Ryan assumed to becursing.

“This is very frustrating, Garrison. All day long we have been just feet away fromground level and we just cannot seem to get there.” Dmitri looked at his watch. “17 hours 13 minutes. Even if we can clear this pile today, it willbe dark again, and we will not be able to work on power array.”

“We must not work on it today,” insistedGarrison. “Your injuries must be tendedto, and then we must rest and hopefully return to complete this stubborn jobtomorrow.”

Defeated, the pair of damaged astronauts walkedslowly and quietly back down the stairs, Garrison sulking in the misfortunes ofthe last 24 hours, and Dmitri hobbling on a swollen foot.

…

Through the slits in his eyes, Garrison saw thesame green glow that had greeted him the morning before. He sat up, yawned, and saw his companiontightly wrapping his right ankle with a bandage.

“How is it, Dmitri?” asked Garrison. “The foot?”

“It is some swollen, but not so much as Ifeared. I can walk, and this bandagewill help us with our day of work.”

“Well, let’s get packed.” Garrison stood on his feet and clapped hishands together. He felt optimistic aboutthe day ahead of them. Besides, itcouldn’t get any worse than the last couple of days, could it?

“I have packed some hand tools to help withdebris,” Dmitri mentioned. “Hand shoveland small pick axe should get us through tunnel and onto Martian soil. But, do eat some breakfast first.”

Garrison was beginning to wonder if Dmitri everslept. By the time he awoke in themornings, his partner had already finished breakfast and began preparations forthe day. He completed his meal whileDmitri was gone. By the time he wasfinished suiting up, Dmitri had returned and the two proceeded into thedepressurization chamber and ensuing tunnel again. They climbed the stairs slowly, feeling themuscle fatigue of yesterday’s climbs as well as the pain from their respectiveinjuries.

When they reached the top landing, theydiscovered that there was not enough room on the stairs for both to safelywork, so Boronov began by removing debris from under the trap door and O’Ryancleared a path off of the stairs, while trying to dodge rocks and dirt flyingfrom his companion’s shovel. Every nowand then, the pair would trade roles in order to catch a breather from thedigging and shoveling, but later in the morning, they were able to extricateenough of the material to give an opening large enough for an astronaut to fitthrough.

“I think we might be able to make it now.” It was Garrison’s turn on the pile when heannounced the opening to his partner.

Dmitri was a couple of flights down, spreadingthe debris evenly down the stair well in order to not create a barrier in theirreturn to the bunker. “I will be therein one moment.”

As Dmitri made it to the pile, he saw adust-filled chamber filtering an orange glow from the hole above, nowadequately sized to allow the pair to climb out of the tunnel. Garrison was already scaling the remainingrocks and disappeared slowly through the hole.

“What do you see?” asked Dmitri. “Where are we, and why is this pile of junkhere in first place?”

“I really can’t tell,” responded Garrison. “The visibility is simply awful. This must be one of those dust storms thatthey taught me in Martian Weather 101.”

“I come up and see too,” Dmitri replied with bothcuriosity and concern.

The curiosity and concern only deepened when hereached the surface, and saw a lot of dust in the air, and a lot of unevendebris on the ground.

“Well, it is dust storm, but it is notright.” Dmitri said sullenly.

“Why?”

“Little wind,” pointed out Dmitrimatter-of-factly. “Dust storm of thisnature requires much wind. Where iswind?”

“So, you haven’t seen this kind of activitybefore?”

“It is most unusual weather.”

“Let’s take a look around and see if we can replaceour way out of the landfill,” said Garrison.

“Garrison, this is not landfill.”

“But what about this pile of junk underneath us?”

“I don’t know, but I know what landfill lookslike. There is too much concrete androcks and… broken asphalt?” Dmitriwandered slowly through the uneven terrain and came to a section that consistedof more significant amounts of asphalt, which was only used on the roadsurfaces of Camp Mars. No road work hadbeen redone during Dmitri’s mission, and there was none that he could recall atthe landfill either.

“Dmitri, does it make sense to go to the powergrid with all of this dust? Will we beable to see anything to make a diagnosis?”

“No, it does not make sense. Nothing makes sense right now.”

“Should we head over to the barracks, atleast? We can wait out this dust stormthere to make a better assessment.”

Dmitri was leaning down onto the pile of debrispicking at the pile with the axe.

“Dmitri?” Garrison carefully stepped over rocks and jagged concrete to meet upwith his companion. “Dmitri?”

“This is road, here.” Dmitri indicated with the end of his axe.

“What?”

“The road goes here, under these rocks. The asphalt is largely broken up and tossedabout, but here, I see asphalt, but over there it is just dirt.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This concrete,” Dmitri said as he sat on a rockand hefted a concrete chunk. “It isrounded. Based on the arc, I believethis is part of very large cylinder.”

He paused to see if Garrison understood.

“It is fuel tank, Garrison.”

“The fuel tank blew up, then, and left this pileof rubble here? But how does that relateto the pow—”. O’Ryan stopped in midsentence as he was able to piece together a theory. “Shrapnel! Dmitri, shrapnel from the tank must have flown over the runway andlanded on the solar array as well, or worse, all the way to the other side ofthe crater to the distribution subsystem. Oh, no… the communication array. Dmitri, this is a huge blow to our camp.”

Dmitri shook his head. “We must not draw hasty conclusion. “The atmosphere is not sufficient for thatkind of explosion of fuel.”

“An earthquake, then?” suggested Garrison eagerfor answers.

“We would feel a marsquake in bunker. Besides, you know that Mars is notgeologically active.”

“We must explore the camp and assess the extentof damage, Dmitri.”

“No,” said Dmitri quickly as he stood up. “We must not risk becoming lost in this duststorm. Remember… since Mars is one offew planets with no magnetic field, we only rely on visual landmarks, skynavigation, or vehicle navigation system.”

“Okay, so we can’t see landmarks, but we can seea faint bright circle through the dust that indicates the position of theSun. We can use the Sun to help us reachthe MTV and then drive around the camp to assess the extent of damage.”

“Too risky. We must first wait out dust storm.”

“Dmitri, why can’t we wait in the barracks insteadof the bunker?”

Boronov’s voice raised slightly. “What if we replace barracks damaged also, andthen we grow disoriented and can’t replace hole in the ground with this sea ofdebris around it? Too risky, Garrison.”

Garrison nodded, and turned around, straining tosurvey anything through the haze of dust. At last, he asked, “How long will the dust last, Dmitri? When will we be able to venture about andrestore some sanity to this camp?”

“Winds are not strong. I am hopeful that tomorrow, we will have clearday to assess damage and make repairs.”

A frustrated sigh was audible to Dmitri.

“I’m sorry, comrade. We must return to bunker and wait.”

Dmitri lead the way back to the trap door. Pausing, he kneeled down and picked up anobject that Garrison did not recognize.

“What is it, Dmitri?”

Boronov showed Garrison the contents of hishand. “It is fuel gauge that neededrepair.”

Garrison hung his head and sighed. “Looks like it’s going to need more thanrepair now, my friend.”

…

Joram Anders sat upright in bed, his heartstarted by the sound of a telephone ringing next on a table next to hisbed. He answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“Joram, this is Professor Zimmer. Can you meet me in the common room?”

Joram looked at his clock. 11:25 AM. He just went to bed a couple of hours earlier after a third straightnight of investigating the Martian dilemma. Rest had not come easily, either, as his body was struggling to copewith his sudden change of schedule. Infact, this was the first morning where he was able to quickly go to sleep, andeven if it was Carlton Zimmer on the phone, he couldn’t help feeling agitatedat being awoken from such a sound sleep.

“Um… Yes, professor… I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Joram’s room on Palomar observatory was smallerthan a motel room. It held a twin sizebed, night stand, and a small closet for a few changes of clothes and personalaffects. He went into a tiny bathroom,washed his face in cold water, dabbed with a towel, and proceeded to put on apair of clothes he had tossed in a corner.

When Joram entered the common room, which reallywas a library stocked with astronomy and science texts, he noticed that Zimmerwas already conversing with Kath and Reyd. Spinning around towards the door, Zimmer clapped his hands. “Ah, right. Let’s head to the video conference room at the observatory, then.”

“What’s going on, Professor?” Joram promptedZimmer for a briefing of their morning activity.

“Ravid called Dr. Gilroy a couple of hoursago. He is confident that we will get avisual of the camp during this Earthrise. We will be getting a live video feed from an observatory in Istanbulwhich is already focused on the eastern Martian horizon, waiting to get thefirst visual into our hands.”

As Zimmer led his trio out of the dorm facility,Joram buttoned up the wind breaker that he put on, due to a morning autumn windwhich had deposited a light frost on the ground the night before. Reyd, likewise zipped up his jacket, and Kathembraced herself sporting a jacket and scarf, which was flowing freely in thewind. Zimmer, who was familiar with theweather on the mountain, wore a long sleeve dress shirt and tie.

As they entered the dimly lit room, the party offour took seats along a conference table closest to the large projected displaywhich was already showing clear images of the Martian horizon. Long shadows filled the breach between nightand day, cast by mountains and craters and were replaced by even longer shadowsas the frigid surface rotated, groping for sunlight.

Zimmer dialed on the speaker phone in the centerof the room.

“Dr. Gilroy, this is Professor Zimmer. I have my students with me here at PalomarMountain.”

“Thanks for calling in, Professor! We know that your team has been workingthrough some exhausting evenings, and we apologize to bring you back thismorning. I have Ravid Avram on the phonein Israel, as well as Camp Mars specialists here at Johnson and Kennedy. The team at the Istanbul UniversityObservatory is also online. We reallyhope that we can get a visual on the astronauts during this Earthrise and beginto establish a plan for their safety.”

After a brief pause, a different voice came overthe phone. “Dr. Gilroy, do you plan tomake an announcement about Ayman Hardy today?”

“We are not inclined to give up our efforts yet,”Gilroy replied.

“He has been non-communicant for more than 60hours now, Doctor.”

“Yes, but as far as we know, his shuttle iscarrying him as safely as ever back to the Moon, even withoutcommunication. The shuttle can sustainlife for four weeks.”

“But you have also failed to make visual contactwith the shuttle through either visual light or infrared which should detectthe heat trail of the shuttle.”

“Understood,” Gilroy sounded annoyed. “We are guarded in our comments to the press,but we are also conveying realistic scenarios as well. We simply will not give up until the full twoweeks have elapsed. If he does not arrive on the Moon in that time frame, then wewill announce our fear of the worst.”

Joram looked across the table at Kath, who wasstaring down at the floor motionlessly. He returned his gaze to the projected image.

“Two minutes to visual, Dr. Gilroy,” announced ascientist who was calculating the estimated time of Earthrise on CampMars.

“Doctor, the edge of the crater is in view now,”said another voice that appeared to be in the same room as Gilroy.

“Thank you, Stan,” replied Gilroy, and thenspeaking into the phone gave instructions to all who were dialed in. “If you will all fix yourselves on the upperleft corner of the horizon, you will see the edge of the crater, distinguishedby its opening to the plains surrounding it. We should be able to start to see camp facilities in less than a minutenow.”

Joram leaned forward in his chair. Kath looked up at the crater rim whilemanicuring the nail of an index finger with her teeth. Reyd straightened his eyeglasses to improvehis vision. Professor Zimmer stood,muted the speakerphone, and paced towards the back of the room with handsfolded behind his back.

“What do you expect to see, students?” askedZimmer with his back to the projection.

All three turned in their chairs to look atZimmer, but none gave a response.

“See for yourselves.” He wheeled around and gestured with his righthand. “This is what we’ve been anxiousto see for three days now.”

The three turned back to the view. The phone was silent of any significantconversation, but indistinguishable mumbling could be heard from a couple ofsources.

“Professor,” Kath was the first to speak. “I—I really don’t recognize anything. Are we too zoomed out to make out anystructures?”

Zimmer shook his head and spoke softly. “There are no structures, Kath.”

Her eyes grew wide in recognition.

“Oh no,” gasped Joram as he stood and drew closerto the projected image. “It’s—It’s…”

“…a pile of rubble!” exclaimed Reyd. Leaping to his feet in horror, Reyd turned tothe professor. “Professor Zimmer, whathappened? How? How can this happen?”

Zimmer shook his head slowly. “I do not know, Mr. Eastman. It is an unspeakable tragedy. We have lost three astronauts.”

“Three, professor?” asked Kath in surprise. “Are you sure that the shuttle was destroyedalso?”

“Ms. Mirabelle,” answered the professorcarefully. “Whatever leveled Camp Marsalso took out three of the four satellites. It also sent a flurry of unidentifiable radiation to our very own planetand caused a sudden flare of brightness on the Sun. Whatever force we are dealing with here, itis very powerful. That shuttle didn’tstand a chance.”

“But one satellite survived, Professor. Couldn’t the shuttle be safe as well?”

“That satellite survived, Kath, because it wassheltered from the destructive path that has left an indelible mark on ourinner Solar System. However, thetrajectory of the shuttle was not in the shadow.”

Kath did not understand. “In what shadow, Professor?”

“In the shadow of the yellow beam, Ms.Mirabelle. Mars protected that remainingsatellite, as it sat in the shadow during that one fateful, destructivemoment.”

The three students gasped.

“Professor?” Joram asked quietly. Deliberately, he phrased his questions. “Are you suggesting that the yellow beam isthe source of the radiation?”

“Yes, Mr. Anders, I believe that is exactly thecase.”

“Then, you know what this yellow beam is, then,right?”

Zimmer sighed heavily. “I have no clue, Mr. Anders. But you three are going to help me replaceout. Consider yourselves assigned toyour graduate research here at CalTech.”