[20]
“You ready, Lib?” I asked as she fastened her uniformed coat, one silver crossed button at a time. She wasn’t delaying, but also, wasn’t hurried. She was deep in thought, running the plan over and over in her mind, seeking to annihilate any errors she may have missed. That was her new role as Captain, to consider all possibility for something to go wrong and lead us through, but at this point, she’d done everything she could. Meetings with her, XO and I had lasted for days. All the bases had been covered.
She’d made sure all systems were running at full—weapons, power, life support, communications, optical and spectral scopes, targeting programs and sensor network feeds, emergency propulsion and pitch control—all meeting and exceeding factory specifications. She’d gone through drills in the event of explosive decompression, redistributed non-combat crew into safety zones and planned rescue response routes. This tiny space can was organized better than ever, ready for any number of possible events short of total destruction.
If a section was pierced, and that was likely, we would seal it off and transfer any crewmembers to the nearest safe zone. Doc and a few others would be on standby, ready to get anyone in need to the ship’s protected bunker in Med 1. It would offer limited protection for the injured, being in the near center of the ship, and have all the equipment necessary to treat them. Brix and Higgins were to patrol the ship, looking for any physical security issues or mental breakdowns, even though it seemed a bit pointless. The only enemy now, the Razor, was quickly whipping its way around the dayside of Mars from low orbit to bring its weapons to bear. No more time to plan. It was time for action. Time to leave our fate to God.
“I’m ready.” She tugged the bottom hem of her coat, making certain her shoulders were comfortably seated in their sleeves. She faced herself in the mirror and checked her hair once more—for the third time. Despite her bun being perfectly wound, her uniform neat and crisp, and a light dusting of makeup around the eyes, the room—smelling of fresh sweat and latex—nearly soiled her supreme air of command. She replaced the juice cartridge of her vape pen and took a drag, blowing vapor at her reflection with a cold, tight grin. She put on her game face. By day’s end some of us would be destined for the cold well.
The final leg of our journey had passed in a blur. Everyone who had someone made use of their dwindling time among the living. XO had been in near constant contact with his wife and kids on Mars, Higgins had made nice with his daughters, Harold had asked his spouse for forgiveness over indiscretions while in the Mirror City, and Rosaleigh Head and Smith, free of Graham, had made their relationship public. There were many stories to tell, but they were all the same at the core.
Stage one, confessing what wrongs had been done.
Stage two, lengthy discussions and heightened emotional states.
Stage three, resignation over our dire situation and eventual forgiveness.
Stage four, reconciliation through the reminiscence of good times.
The only crewmember that didn’t seem content was Kelly. He was increasingly ornery over the smallest things. Kelly had had family, but they were gone, burned up in the attack on Ceres which started this whole mess. He was increasingly adamant about getting vengeance for their deaths, though feared the cost.
Liberty turned around and let out a sigh. “How about you? Are you ready, Davie?”
I kissed her on the lips before pressing my forehead against hers. “We do this together. Live or die.”
“Live or die,” she agreed, patting the nametag on my left chest. She then took my hands and squeezed them tight. “Smoke?”
I nodded and took the vape pen from her open palm. “Thanks.”
“I talked to father this morning.”
“What did he say?”
Her eyes trailed over the many trophies her father meticulously curated and placed within shadow boxes. “Nothing at all.”
“Was it enough?”
She remained silent and turned to leave, as if ignoring the question. But then she paused, right hand inches from the hatch’s control panel. “You know, we could always just leave. There’s a pair of short range lifeboats aboard. All we’d have to do is sneak off to the cargo bay. Mars is only a few hundred miles below, and I have contacts who could pick us up in skimmers. They could take us somewhere safe no one would find us.”
“You’d never be able to live with yourself. You’d never be able to set the scales right.”
She closed her eyes and a sullen sigh of resignation crawled out of her. “You’re right. I just—I was thinking of that sunset you spoke of. I was thinking of having a few more years with someone special before the end. I want to be your companion, sitting on the hillside beneath the mountains as a sea of black turns blue, then white, dust storms dancing in the sun’s distant shafts of life-giving luminescence. I want to feel your warmth as the red planet changes, as we make it breathable for all mankind. I want others to see it.”
“This isn’t the end.”
“Not the end.” She took a deep breath from in front of the hatch and depressed the button. “Here we go.”
We stepped through the portal, shifting from informal to formal like a switch, duty radiating from us both like a yellow giant star. I would have liked nothing more than to have run away with her, but I couldn’t. These people had suffered with us, died with us. We had to see it through to the end. Love or not, selfish or not, we couldn’t keep from doing what was right. And what was right for now, was to win the battle and change the world. A small task, sure, but we rested upon the fulcrum of change.
We entered the bridge as one, welcomed by the sound of hurried chatter and bleeping sensors. XO waved a hand and pointed at the main display. I stood at attention at the side of the room, lips sealed and waiting for orders.
The main display showed two predominant images. One, our virtual location with glorious Mars beneath, radioactive scans and spectral analysis beamed to us direct from our network of sensor satellites showing us the Razor’s status. The second, a live video feed from detachable drones flying aloft our ship and pointing down. We were on the night side of Mars, traveling along the equator with the planet’s rotation. The Razor was orbiting towards us from the dayside, approaching us from behind. From the drone’s view, the Vindicator, a white series of cans stuck together with circular solar wings, could be seen zooming just above the ultra-thin atmosphere of Mars, red and orange mountains among the vast windswept plains flowing beneath her like a river. I could just make out the thread of the space elevator at Arsia Mons a few thousand miles ahead, leading down onto the dark surface where it met with the bright dotted lights of home.
“Sitrep?” Liberty asked, sounding very much like her father in tone.
“Fifty-five minutes till we’re in line of sight,” XO replied. “We have twenty-five functioning two-stage batteries, all set for the fight, not that we’ll get the chance to fire that many at close range. Auxiliary power is sufficient to see us through the battle if solar is rendered inoperable. Soft suits are being distributed right now in case of decompression.” He pointed to a security display, showing both Griffin and Kelly passing out soft suits to every crewmember on board. “Your father and Graham have been locked up in Crew 2 as requested. That’ll give Griffin, Kelly and Goddard free movement during the fight. Don’t need opposing ideals coming out during battle. Graham’s got a mouth on him.”