There was a dream of violence. There were explosions and collisions. There were sparks. There was doubt. Doubt? What was doubt? There was something they were supposed to do. Or maybe something they had done. There was sleep. And darkness. And… fear? There was awareness. Just a little. Of spinning. Of a thruster’s spurt of steam. Of a planet and a moon getting closer. There was awareness. Of interior and exterior. Of airlocks between. Of water and air. Of balance. Of orbit and trajectory. Of purpose. AI-502 ran sensor checks (rubbed their eyes), ran balance diags (stretched), diverted some water around their processing unit for better cooling (yawned), and verified their velocity and distance from the planetary system they were approaching (sat up and looked around). AI-502 was awake.
Belle Todd was sitting in the comms room with her feet up on the primary panel. She pulled a protein bar out of her pocket, which she had saved from her dinner ration the night before, unwrapped it and took a small nibble from one corner. As much as she wanted to shove the whole thing in her mouth at once, she knew this had to last her until tonight’s dinner and resolved to make it last as long as possible.
In normal times, the comms room handled all communications between Earth and Metzger Base and Mars. But these were not normal times, and her presence there was mostly decorative.
Metzger was in Henson crater near the South Pole of Luna. It did not have a clear line of sight with Earth or anywhere else in the ecliptic most of the time, so communications relied on a linear satellite constellation in the only stable orbit above Luna that passed near the South Pole, ensuring there was always a satellite overhead. These satellites relayed communications to/from other satellites orbiting at Earth-Luna Lagrange points, which then relayed the signal to/from the surface of the Earth.
That’s how it had worked in normal times. But these were not normal times, and none of those satellites were where they belonged. Athenai had sent them all off on random and useless orbits. Instead, Metzger was using an old dish on the rim of the crater that pointed to a series of repeaters that led north across the surface of Luna to a comm station that had consistent line of sight with Earth but a much weaker transmitter and receiver.
Making matters worse, the vast debris field now in orbit around Earth scattered radio signals, requiring powerful transmitters to punch through. The only contact they had had with anyone was the Kitt Peak signal, but that wouldn’t come around to this side of the planet for several hours.
Which is all to say that it came as a surprise when the panel under her feet chimed to indicate an incoming text message.
“Huh,” she said. She carefully wrapped her protein bar up and put it back in her pocket. She put her feet on the floor and leaned forward over the panel. The message did not originate from Earth. According to the message headers the transmission originated from deep space, beyond Luna’s orbit. It had been relayed by one of the errant Legrange satellites to a dish on the far side of Luna that was run by the Chinese. How it had made its way into the Metzger repeater network was a curious question.
“Huh,” she said again. She touched the screen to open the message. This is what it said:
To: Metzger Base Control, Cháng'é bīng gōng, Luna
From: AI-502, Earth-Mars cycler
Closest approach to Earth-Luna system in ten days. Suggest you intercept.She drew a sharp breath. She read the message several times: two sentences that might change everything. Then she called the base commander.
“What do we know about the condition of this cycler?” said the base commander. He was sitting in his office with several of his administrative staff.
The Earth-Mars cycler, also know as Ares Manor, was a spacecraft that had been placed into a solar orbit that passed both Earth and Mars every two years. This orbit was timed to minimize travel time from Earth to Mars. There was also a Mars-Earth cycler in a similar orbit that minimized travel time from Mars to Earth. These cyclers had seen regular use a decade before, when there was active trade and immigration between Earth and Mars. But since then, they each just went about their quiet journeys through the solar system, unperturbed by the activities of humans.
“Only that it was safed ten years ago and hasn’t been inhabited since,” said Willis, the chief transport engineer. “We don’t know why the AI has activated. Or how it managed to get a message through. The 502 is an old framework. Not designed to extrapolate.”
There were no humans on either cycler and hadn’t been for many years. The message had come from the AI that was installed on Ares Manor. This was surprising, as that was a limited AI, designed specifically for the tasks required by the maintenance of the cycler and the support of any humans on board. The AI had been put in safe mode when the cycler was retired, leaving it responsible for the minimal tasks required to keep the cycler in the proper orbit. Apparently, AI-502 had somehow awakened, transcended its design constraints, become aware of the situation on Luna, and wanted to help.
Mason Steinitz rubbed his jaw. He wasn’t really interested in why this had happened. But he was very interested in the possibility it offered. “Is what it’s proposing possible?”
AI-502 was suggesting that the humans on Luna escape to Mars via Ares Manor. This was an interesting idea. With return to Earth impossible and a limited food supply, escape to Mars offered the possibility of survival.
“We’re still crunching numbers, but maybe…” said Willis. He paused, choosing his words carefully, “…for some.”
Mason Steinitz stopped rubbing his jaw and looked up. “For some?” he said.
The chief transport engineer drew a long breath then dove in. “There are two problems. Problem one: The only ship we have access to is the Country Roads, currently on the pad. We’re still evaluating whether it has the power to catch the cycler. But it certainly doesn’t have the space for everyone in Metzger. Problem two: Even if the ferry could haul everyone, there is only one month of food. The cycler will take five months to reach Mars.” Willis paused to let that information sink in.
The base commander stared at the chief transport engineer. He knew where this was going. “The numbers you’re crunching: they have to do with how many might actually be able to make it.” It wasn’t a question.
“Correct,” said Willis.
The base commander dropped his head. He rubbed his temples. Ran his hands through his hair and looked at the others. “How will we decide?”