Change - ch. 7

The interior of the space station was flaring with red flashing lights and the sound of boots pounding on the catwalks hanging dangerously over open wires and circuit boards. The crew was mustering to their positions preparing for the worst, not knowing what to do next, awaiting their orders from their commander.

“Colonel, we’ve lost contact with Mariner Bravo!” Wallace roared over his shoulder.

Baker looks to the technical sergeant and points his finger to him in frustration and yells over the emergency sirens, “Well, God damn it! Get them back!”

With his other hand, Baker grabs the microphone and presses the intercom button. A robotic click is heard followed by a horn to give his announcement. The sirens became quiet as his voice, like god, blasted over the entire station and to his subordinates.

“We have lost contact with Mariner Bravo. Weather conditions on the planet have made communications impossible. Scramble Mariner Charlie for immediate departure. Extraction and evaluation of Mariner Bravo’s condition is critical. Make it happen! Out!”

The crew was wary and tired. Susan Langley heard the order and turned her attention to another crewman. Susan was a military civilian working in coordination with the Department of Defense on this mission. Her job was to evaluate and assist the crew in asserting possible extraterrestrial or otherwise peculiar abnormalities during the mission. This constituted an anomaly from her perspective.

Sarah looks over to crew member beside her and asks him in cynicism, “You’ve got to be kidding me! We can’t dispatch a second vehicle with what crew is left!”

The crewmember didn’t reply. He was given his order.

“This is bullshit!” She threw down a pencil that was in her hand for no reason. She storms out of the cramped work station and down the maze of corridors to get answers from the Commander’s station.

Wallace was sweating, pressing buttons and flicking switches attempting to change frequencies on the off chance the Mariner Bravo scout party’s radio shifted their channels. He was welcomed by static and feedback loops from space.

“It’s no use sir, all channels are down!”

The colonel looks over to the radio frequencies and notices the same. He looks to a video monitor where the robot camera feed was coming through. The dust and wind on the planet had made it impossible to see anything but flying grey specks.

“Move the camera and see if the vehicle is still in the area.” He demanded.

Wallace did what he could but there was nothing to be seen from the Mar’s canyon. Another fruitless effort it seemed.

“Damn it!” Baker yelled.

A door slams closed and Sarah marches towards the Colonel not at all pleased by the order he had given, “Tell me what exactly you’re thinking sir! We can’t send down another crew on the surface now, who the hell would man the station?”

“Ma’am, the station is automated and I have men on the surface that require immediate extraction. I leave no man behind.”

“Even if that means your extraction may compromise the integrity of the station’s mission Colonel?”

“The station will be fine, this is a simple extraction mission at base camp on the surface.”

“Sir, you realize that the situation on the surface? Hurricane winds and debris may hinder your operation!”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, this is my call. Feel free to write your report as you deem necessary. We’re millions of miles from any beurorat right now. Stay in your lane Sarah and let me do mine!”

Wallace tried not to be part of this argument, still trying to shift channels and frequencies.

“Sergeant, escort her off my bridge!” Baker orders to Wallace.

He stands up and leaves his post and puts himself between her and his commander, “Ma’am, please leave the bridge immediately.”

She hesitated and tried to look over Wallace’s shoulders to the commander and like a reporter, she would not leave easily. Being pushed out she continued to ask and demand questions and responsibility for the station. Her face flustered red with anger.


On the surface of Mars the weather picked up a violent surge. The wind howled like a hungry wolf and debris slammed against the haul of the rover as it tried to escape the raging torrent of a Mariner sand storm.

The vehicle slams into a deep trench, Its nose digs into the soft soil. A boulder hits the rear of the armored tank and slams the exposed under carriage of the vehicle and jolts the crew inside.

A crewman inside flies from his seat and instantly crashes on the roof of the interior of the vehicle as the boulder collided with the bottom of the tank. Chapel braces for the impact and slams face first on a monitor that was hanging on from a stand on the side of the computer module. A third member is flung about like a rag doll, still buckled in his seat that was torn from bolts on the ground near the impact area. Him, the chair, all the items not bolted down bounced inside the small cavity like a pinball in racking points for the highest score.

Chapel shakes his head as he tries to gain his senses. Blood pouring down the side of his head he holds his arm in sheer pain. He groans to his crewmembers, “Jamison! Sampson!”

Chapel’s only response was the ominous howling wind and the creaking of metal as the boulders continued to pound on the outside by the hurricane.

Sampson releases an agonizing moan. He was still buckled in the chair which now hung like an ornament on a Christmas tree. A long metal rod stuck out from his chest. He spat blood and released a weak yell to his Lieutenant.

Chapel hears the pain and crawls over to him the best he could in the awkward walk way of what was left of his craft.

“Sampson!” Chapels made his way near him and saw that his soldier was hanging from the wall or was it the floor, it was hard to say in his state of mind.

“Stay with me Sampson, we’ll make it through this.”

Chapel touched Sampson’s face his skin cold and clammy. His sweat was ice cold and when he spoke blood dribbled down his chin. With his eyes trying not to roll into the back of his skull he replies, “Sir…” To the end, he was a trooper.

Sampson looks to Chapel and whispers a final request. He knew he was dying and they were so far from home, “Tell my fiance’ that I love her…”

“Don’t waste your strength. We’ll be back aboard the ship soon. Colonel Baker is sending help.” Fool’s words for a moment of desperation, but it was all the Lieutenant could do for him now.

A buzzer begins to go off and a mechanical female voice announces to the beaten crew that there was a breech in the haul and that life support was failing. Chapel could hear the whistle of his oxygen escaping from his tank.