Trouble on the Red Planet; Aumrill
Inca City

And it was about that same time some two-hundred miles to the southwest of the facility and forty-five miles almost due west of Inca City, a late-middle-aged man in a pressure suit was carefully sprinkling sand into a mechanical sifter. The name plate across his chest read, Simon Balkan. He filled the upper tray of the machine and then rubbed his left hand over the top of the sand looking for anything solid. When the tray emptied itself of sand he lifted the screen and dumped the remaining pebbles onto a pile of previously discarded pebbles then he refilled the tray with more sand and repeated the process. He continued this monotonous task until a swirl of sand appeared under his left foot. He didn’t notice the extent of the sinkhole he merely shifted his weight to maintain balance and continued working. Suddenly, without warning, the sand gave way and swallowed his left leg up to the mid-calf. He let out a painful, “Arrrggh! Ah! Bloody, damned hell!” he said in his South-London accent. He tried to free his ensnared limb, but it was wedged between the sand and some kind stone ledge.

“Ah, Richard, Jean, come over here I need your help,” he yelled into his helmet radio, desperately.

Richard’s voice came immediately. “Simon, what’s the trouble?”

Jean Mahomet, a black nineteen year-old Frenchman, was in a shed greasing the joints of a backhoe when the call rang into his helmet. He placed his grease gun on a shelf. “Yes, Mr. Balkan,” he said in his rich French accent, “what seems to be the problem?”

Balkan’s voice boomed in his helmet, “Bloody hell! Must I explain, just come quickly.”

Richard replied, “I’m on my way Simon.” And he started walking briskly toward Balkan’s dig site. He made about a hundred yards when the whining electric motor of the backhoe came from behind. He turned to see Jean Mahomet’s smiling face in the driver’s seat.

“Would you like a ride, Mr. Serling?”

“Don’t be so formal, just call me Richard,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you, it just makes me feel old?” He grabbed the handle bars on the side of the backhoe frame and stepped onto the grated foot pad and the electric motor whined again.

Jean chuckled and said, “Now then, Richard, let’s go and see what Mr. Balkan has gotten himself into.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Richard told him. “It’s probable that he’s found a bone fragment or a metal chunk that he thinks is significant.”

They pulled alongside the trapped person of Simon Balkan. Richard hopped off the backhoe.

“By the ‘Ghost of Lord Carnarvon’, what in Hell took you so long?”

“Well, Simon, it looks like your work got a leg up on you this morning,” said Richard, with a smirk.

“Ah, shut-up, Richard, can’t you see that I’m in trouble here?” he said disabused. “Now, Jean, take your backhoe and start grating this flat area of sand near my leg.” Jean started pushing the sand forward, and then the emptied the bucket onto an existing pile of sand from a previous excavation. Richard began pushing the sand around Simon’s leg. “That’s no use Richard,” said Simon, “I tried that and the sand only sifts into a hollow pocket beneath this stone slab.”

Richard took a ball peen hammer from Simon’s tool kit and whacked the slab with its flat head. The echo back told him that the hollow was quite large. “Hmmm, it’s hollow all right,” said Richard. “It’s no wonder that there’s so much sand being displaced. You’re lucky to get caught on this slab. As large an area as this one it could have pulled you down and buried you alive.”

“It would have been quite miserable until you would have been able to dig me out of that,” agreed Simon.

Simon had no sooner spoken than when a volume of sand fell away, leaving a gaping hole and freeing Simon’s leg. Richard helped him onto the slab and then to his feet. Richard started to examine his pressure suit for holes, and there were none.

“I’m not injured Richard my suit protected me from the compression of the sand.”

Jean had finished dumping the last load of sand then climbed off the backhoe and ran over to look into the hole. “Oh, my word,” he exclaimed. “There are inscriptions on the walls.”

Richard immediately retrieved a flashlight and Simon ran around to take a look. “Shades of ‘Howard Carter’ Richard,” Simon spouted out. “Look what we’ve found.”

Richard hurried around with the flashlight and flashed it into the hole. There was a chamber that went back into the ground and into the darkness. The slab was a ledge which formed a ceiling and about three feet from the opening there was a wall with unmistakable characters of some form of writing. “Well I think we’ve found something remarkable,” Richard announced.

“And what have we found?” said Jean, befuddled.

“Jean, my young friend,” Richard remarked, “we may have just stumbled onto the equivalent of a Martian ’Rosetta Stone.”

“Don’t just stand there gabbing boys,” Simon demanded. “Jean, now get back on the backhoe. And Richard, get on the ‘horn’ to the space station. Tell them we need supplies and laborers immediately. This is where our work begins, my boys.”

Jean was on the ‘hoe’ without hesitation and Richard engaged the portable communication devise. His first motion was to remotely activate the stored equipment back in Inca City to transport itself. Richard typed in the proper sequence of codes and the storage buildings opened up. Out of several buildings automated equipment rolled out. Richard shortly radioed the Robert Heinlein. Julia took the requisition for additional laborers and dispatched the orders.

It was about thirty-five minutes later when the automated equipment drove its way into the camp. Richard shortly got a vacuum device which aided with the removal of sand. About ninety minutes later they were able to see into the chamber. Jean completed the task of skirting the opening and set up a mesh to help keep the sand from accumulating back into the area. Richard continued vacuuming until steps leading down were clearly visible. After a while though sand still covered the floor of the chamber still Richard was able to squat into the opening.

“Okay,” said Richard, “let’s get some lighting down here. We’re going to take pictures.” Jean began unloading lighting from one of the automated carts while Richard logged data into the computer. Both Richard and Jean turned their heads up towards the opening to the whistling sound of the wind. Simon called down to them. “Jean, Richard, come up topside we must activate Weatherby.”

Weatherby was an automated weather tracking device. Once Weatherby was manually activated it responded to voice commands by answering verbally and with directed motions. Richard walked up the steps with Jean shortly behind. Richard immediately looked over to the southwest horizon. He saw a funnel shaped dust cloud between the mountains on the horizon and the Sun, which was in its seasonal three o’clock position. “It’s still some distance away,” he said to the other two. He then lifted up a cover panel on Weatherby’s side. He touched the on switch and said, “Okay, Weatherby, what’s the weather?”

“Good afternoon Mr. Serling, the weather is Sunny with a slight breeze blowing from the southeast. The temperature is minus seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit. There is a funnel dust cloud in the southwest bearing a northeasterly direction.”

“Stop,” Richard told Weatherby. “Will it reach our camp?”

“My indicators show that the storm will pass forty-five miles due north of our current position, however there is another funnel dust cloud in the northwest bearing a southeasterly direction.”

“Stop! Will the storm in the north reach our camp?”

“My indicators show that the storms are on a collision course and will merge forty-seven miles northwest of the camp.”

“Stop,” Richard said again.

“Richard, my boy,” injected Simon. “When storms merge in that fashion they generally become more intense and erratic.” He then turned to the machine. “Weatherby, my good fellow, what are the odds of the super storm changing to a southerly course?”

“I have insufficient data, Dr. Balkan; I will accrue more information as the situation develops.”

“Thank you Weatherby.”

“You’re welcome Dr. Balkan.

“Richard,” Simon continued, “we should notify the colonies and the Biocontainment Facility and we should all coordinate with the space station as the situation develops. Jean, use the backhoe and the automated excavation equipment to build a barrier. Richard will help you when he’s done with the communications.”

Richard set up the portable communication device and spoke the prompt verbal commands, “This is the Inca City archeological dig calling the Robert A. Heinlein.”

Richard watched Julia Ganswind Davis’s face appear on the screen.

“Hello, Richard. How are you?” she said in her rich German accent.

“Well, Julia, I’m doing fine of course. How is ‘little Donna’ doing?”

“She is visiting her Grandmother Davis in Pensacola Florida for her eighth birthday. Thank you for asking.

“Bloody Hell!” exclaimed Simon, “This is not a bloody social call, Richard,” said Simon over his shoulder.

“Sorry, Simon,” Richard apologized. “Julia, have you been monitoring the dust devil activity west of our camp?”

“Yes, our weather tracking devices have been tracking them for just over an hour. They should be visible to the Biocontainment facility and in Inca City but do not appear to be a threat to either compound. However the storms will make their passes closest to Inca City.”

“Okay, Julia, could you dispatch the tracking to the Biocontainment Center and Chryse and have them to coordinate with us as the weather systems develop.”

“Roger, Richard, I will dispatch the information immediately, and you may tell Simon I said, Gesundheit!”

“Roger, Julia, I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

Richard put the communications on standby and went immediately to help Jean with the barrier.

Jean stopped for a moment, “Tell me Richard,” he said, “what are the chances of the storm reaching us?’

“Oh, I don’t know? Not very much but we still need to watch it to stay out of its way in case it turns on us.”

“This barrier, do you suppose it will protect us?”

Richard chuckled. “It will serve to give it more to hurl at us. Other than that it will help to keep us from falling into the hole we just made.”

“Why then, Richard, are we building the barrier at all.”

Richard chuckled again. “Well, my French speaking friend, that is so Simon can write in his log that we made an attempt to protect our work from the elements. We oblige because that’s what we get paid to do. Whatever discoveries we make is a bonus because we never have any idea what we’re going to dig up. Hopefully it will be something that will support existing theories; otherwise we’ll have endless explanations as to why we can’t substantiate our existence.”

“And what of the discovery we have made this very day?”

“Jean, my young friend, you are going to be able to make a good living lecturing at every major college and university in existence for the rest of your life. Not to mention the chapter in my book that is dedicated to your work here and if we are able to decipher the text we discovered we may never need to get out hands dirty again.”

“So, Richard, you are saying that we made a true discovery that will serve to validate all the hard work we’ve done here.”

“That and more, you are a hero. And even if the dust devil comes down and destroys our worksite, our work wasn’t in vain because the video evidence was sent to the main computer on the space-station. That’s why I say that the work we get paid for is not the work that we set out to do.”

“Are you saying, Richard, that though the fundamental objectives of our work have been met, the superficial objectivity of our work is still a necessity.”

“Absolutely, because those who fund these expeditions are expecting nothing more and nothing less from us and in the end it’s the window dressing that gets the dough.”

The wind had suddenly become shriller and caught the attention of all three men. It was now visibly obvious that the two systems were approaching each other.

“Weatherby?” said Simon. “What is the projected path of the duel storm?”

“Dr. Balkan, the storms will collide in approximately fifteen minutes, and at which time they will suspend their forward motion for approximately one minute thirty seconds then will proceed in a northwesterly direction.”

“Stop! It would appear that the storms will pass unabated but will move away from us.”

“That is effectively correct Dr. Balkan.”

“Well, gentlemen sit back and enjoy the show. I have a feeling Mother Nature is about to give us quite a display.”

“Did anyone remember to bring the popcorn?” said Richard.

The three men watched as the two funnel clouds approached each other like a couple of square dancers. They came together and huddled for a moment and debris from each formation branched upward and reached towards each other like a system of multiple arms. These arms appeared to merge and the two clouds spiraled and danced around each other. The merged system took on the appearance of a double helix of DNA.

Dr. Balkan raised his fists into the air and proclaimed. “This planet is alive; I tell you and its alive today.”

Meanwhile some distance to the northeast a group stood in the recreation lounge of the Biocontainment Facility and looked out in joint enthusiasm over the meteorological spectacle.