Spinning Diamonds

  “Fuck the accountants. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to help Harry any way I can. Let’s see how much Carbonado we get in the first place.” Vincent turned to his screen. “We’ll decide how to spend our money on the return trip.”

  “Sounds good.”

  * * *

  Vincent only had time to set up three controlled explosions on the small asteroid, but they yielded incredible results. This time around, Bill got to use the specialized equipment to chip away at the rock until only rough diamonds remained. The results exceeded their wildest dreams.

  At least five rough stones were over 2000 carats and the biggest close to 4000. It was astonishing. Once cut, they would all be contenders for the biggest diamond in the world. They were all pure Carbonado. Bill was working around the clock on the harvested rocks.

  Vincent eventually became busy with the return aspect of their voyage. Before initiating the controlled burn that would send them toward Mars, he established their exact position and velocity by observing other bodies of the solar system over seven days. His calculations were a perfect match with their initial trajectory.

  Since the return part of their voyage turned out to be as uneventful as the first leg of the trip, both men reverted to their daily routine. Vincent devoted his days to taking care of himself and learning history, while his companion chiseled away at the diamond ore. Bill eventually brought a bag twice the size of a pillowcase into the living module. It was filled with rough, uncut diamonds.

  He took pictures and documented them all before bagging them individually. Each stone had its scannable code with the details of its extraction, its weight, measurements, estimated cut carats, color, and clarity. Their total monetary worth could not be estimated, as the big stones were invaluable, but the smaller ones had fairly predictable market values. For the engineer, it was a labor of love.

  Two months later, as they neared their brush with Mars, Bill finally finished his task. He floated next to Vincent while eating dried raisins. “Wanna talk about the split?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Sure.”

  “I think we should go half-half.”

  “I like it.”

  “Do you want to look at the list and decide what you want?”

  “Nah, you split it up any way you like. I trust you. We’ll go over the figures afterwards, but after I spoil my daughter rotten and get Harry out of jail, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with the rest of the money. I’ll probably end up giving most of it away.”

  “That’s great,” said Bill with a smile. “I know exactly how I’m gonna spend my share. A beach house on the west coast, for starters, and then trips around the world. The good life. For a while.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know, but it will fun to be on the other side of the fence.”

  “What fence?”

  “The financial fence. You see, research is all about money. As a scientist I’ve had to secure funds all my life. Getting investors, like Harry, to finance project after project. Always hoping to hit the mother lode. Stressful stuff. Pressure.”

  “You might end up missing the good old days.”

  “Hah, never!”

  Vincent smiled. “I know what you mean.”

  “I’ll homeschool my kids while we travel. They’ll learn a new language every year.”

  “My daughter’s learning Italian.”

  “And you’re studying Roman history... is Lambert an Italian name?”

  “Nah, just a coincidence.”

  Both men were lost in thought a moment.

  “I always wanted to go to Japan. Their culture, the mountains, the ocean: seems like they have it all,” said Bill.

  “I’ll go visit you. I love Japanese food.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  They clinked their thermos together.

  * * *

  Fifty hours later, they came into range of the Mars communication systems.

  “About time,” said Bill while floating behind Vincent, who was strapped to his seat. “How long will we be able to talk to them?”

  “A few days, but only while we’re facing their base; there’s no communication grid around Mars. It should be more than enough to set up a decent welcoming committee on Earth when we get there.”

  “Once they hear about those rocks,” Bill glanced at the big bag Velcroed to the wall, “they’ll rue the day they discarded the useless mining division.”

  Vincent nodded. As soon as communication was established, a data package would be relayed to Mars and then to Earth. “Assuming everything goes well, we should get a response from former XLP employees inside twenty hours.”

  Both men jumped when an audio message came through.

  “Blue Star, this is Oleg Varlamov, from Exploration Universal Incorporated. On behalf of everyone here at the Mars base, congratulations! We received your data and it will be transmitted to Earth in four days. We are currently doing maintenance on our main dish following a big storm. Do you copy? Over.”

  Bill frowned. “Maintenance on their... incredible! This just gets better and better.”

  Vincent pressed the comm button. “Copy that, Mr. Varlamov. It’s great to hear from you. How many EUI employees have you stationed at the moment? Over.”

  “We’re a team of five, but we’ve set things up for another twenty people at the next rotation in six months. Things will definitely become more lively around here. Anyway, if there’s anything we can do for you guys as you zoom by, let us know. It’s a damn shame that you couldn’t find anything valuable, or XPL would never have abandoned you like that. Over.”

  “Not their fault,” said Vincent before Bill could butt in and unleash his frustration. “The company went bankrupt and we were just at the wrong place when it happened. Have a look at the report you’re relaying. It should explain a lot. Over.”

  Bill smiled and nodded.

  “Okay, we’ll do that and get back to you right away. Do you need anything? Over.”

  Bill leaned forward. “General news reports for the last three months would be great. Planetwide. Over.”

  “Not a problem.” There was laughter in the background. “We’ll send you what we got from head office. It’s pretty complete. Over.”

  “Thank you. Over and out.”

  “I can’t wait to hear from those nasty accountants,” said Bill.

  “You know they’ll try to find a way to screw us out of the money, don’t you?”

  “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Vincent stretched and yawned. “Doesn’t really matter. We have to get back before they can steal our precious rocks. We have to get ready for another correction burn.”

  “Not that crap again.” Bill’s shoulders sagged, not easily done in zero G.

  Vincent stared at his companion with a flat expression.

  “Come on,” complained Bill. “XLP rockets were used on thousands of missions and only had two malfunctions. Aren’t we being a bit paranoid?”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “What good would it do us to survive an explosion? Seriously? I’d much rather die quickly than float around a few days before finally running out of air and dying a slow, agonizing death.”

  Bill complained at every course-correction burn, but invariably ended up complying with Vincent’s demand. It was a well-rehearsed dance. Both men eventually put on their spacesuits and took seats inside the Soyuz after closing the hatch to the space station. Bill’s suit was immaculately white, while Vincent’s was stained and showed signs of wear.

  After running several checks, Vincent verified his calculations and initiated the burn. The explosion was immediate and lightly rocked both men.

  “Shit!” Vincent aborted the procedure and requested a damage report on the main screen. It was bad. Blue Star was composed of three habitable modules: a living module, a work module, and an emergency module, where they presently sat.

  Another explosion rattled them, not as strong this ti
me. Vincent secured his helmet but kept his visor open. Bill followed suit and looked expectantly at the astronaut. “How bad?”

  “The work module protected us from the first blast, I think, but got ripped open. The living module has decompressed.” Vincent displayed their living area on a side screen, and the place was filled with floating junk. Where did all this stuff come from? Another angle showed the dented wall that had absorbed the explosion. Most of the floating debris came from there.

  “Forget about returning to Earth,” said Vincent. “We have to bail out on Mars and join the EUI base. It’s our only hope.”

  “Can it be done?”

  “I think so. But if not, we’ll disintegrate during reentry, which beats slow, agonizing death any day.”

  “Do you know where to go on Mars? I mean, we need to land near that base.”

  Vincent’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding? We’re changing the maneuver from aerobraking to aerocapture. There’s no way we can direct anything and choose a landing spot. Hell, we’ll be lucky to land at all.”

  Bill let that sink in while Vincent calculated and went over different graphs and flight projections. “But what if we land in the middle of nowhere? We’ll die a slow, agonizing death in any case.”

  “No, we won’t. They’ll come and get us. They have vehicles.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because astronauts help each other, okay? Whenever someone’s in trouble, you drop everything and help him out.”

  “If not, we can always offer them diamonds,” said Bill.

  Both men looked at the living-module display. Surprisingly, there were a lot less debris floating around. Vincent focused the camera and... the bag of diamonds was gone. He frantically flipped from one camera to another until he saw the bulky form floating toward a big hole, where a lot of debris had already disappeared.

  “I’ll go get it,” said Bill as he unstrapped himself.

  Vincent grabbed his forearm. “Hurry, we have to uncouple from Blue Star and make a burn toward the planet. With the Soyuz, not the rockets. If we fuck it up, we’ll miss Mars altogether. Back to slow, agonizing death.”

  “Right.” Bill opened the hatch leading to a small, unlighted corridor and quickly disappeared from view.

  Vincent closed the hatch and watched his companion clumsily position himself inside the narrow umbilical. Turning back to the glass panels on front of him, he went through different landing scenarios. Their speed would be much higher than what the Soyuz could take for an Earth reentry, but the thin Mars atmosphere should compensate. The parachute would not slow them as much either, but gravity was a third of Earth’s own pull. There weren’t that many options for their high-ballistic trajectory.

  “Got it.”

  Vincent glanced at the side screen.

  Bill was leaning out of the living module, with only his legs dangling inside. He was bringing the bulky bag inside when the third explosion occurred.

  Vincent was rattled in the Soyuz, while everything in the living module was shook up just like in a snow globe. Bill was banged against the jagged edge of the opening as the bag slammed into his side and ripped open. Sparkling plastic spilled everywhere. With effort and obvious pain, Bill pulled himself back inside while clutching the bag.

  “Argg... shit!” Heavy coughing. “Why didn’t you tell me the explosions weren’t over?”

  “I didn’t know! How could I? Are you hurt bad?”

  “Probably. This keeps getting better and better.”

  “Can you make it back on your own?”

  “Yeah, I think so. You’ll have to come and get those floating diamonds before they fly out,” rasped Bill.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “You don’t wanna know. Everywhere.” His breathing was strained. He eventually returned to his seat and Vincent had to operate the door for him. Bill tapped his arm. “You have to go back and gather up those diamonds.” His eyes were bulging through his visor and his sweat-covered forehead glistened in the orange emergency lighting.

  Vincent ignored him and secured the door shut. “We still have two thirds of the diamonds. Fuck the rest.”

  “No, go get them!” croaked Bill.

  “Listen to me! Right now, we’re in survival mode. That means limited amount of oxygen, limited amount of energy, limited amount of time. The sooner we separate from Blue Star, the more time we got. Capiche? We’ll be lucky to get out of here alive.” And that fucking deathtrap might blow up again.

  Bill closed his eyes and sank back in his seat. Vincent quickly buckled him in and opened his visor to preserve his suit’s oxygen supply. They would use all of the Soyuz’s small reservoir first.

  Ten minutes later, the Soyuz separated from the broken space station and quickly decelerated toward Mars.

  * * *

  “This is Oleg Varlamov, from EUI, do you copy?” The voice was covered by a heavy coat of static.

  Finally. “Yes! This is Vincent Lambert from Blue Star, do you copy?”

  “Good morning Blue Star, we barely copy you. Sorry we missed your correction burn, over.”

  “There was no correction burn. I repeat, there was no correction burn. Our rockets blew up and we are crash-landing on Mars. Over.”

  A pause at the other end. “What is your situation? Over.”

  “We’re in the Soyuz. We separated from Blue Star two hours ago. We are going to enter Mars orbit and start aerobraking in roughly twenty minutes. Over.”

  “What are your reentry angle, velocity, and coordinates? What is your estimated landing zone? Over.”

  Vincent relayed the information twice, stressing the fact that the landing zone was a rough estimate. He noticed again that it was more than 2,500 kilometers from the base. No need to tell Bill. “How long before a rescue effort can reach the landing zone? Over.”

  A long pause followed. Vincent looked at the time. Fuck! What are these guys doing? “There will be a communication blackout when we initiate reentry. How long before a rescue effort reaches the landing zone? Over.” Still no answer. Fuck! Vincent glanced at Bill who was sweating bullets and staring back at him. He had slept restlessly for the past hour, but was now wide awake.

  “Offer them diamonds and they’ll come around.”

  Another minute went by. Vincent leaned forward. “Communication blackout coming up very soon. We have secured our diamond cargo and are heading to designated landing zone. How long before a rescue effort reaches us? Over.”

  “A rescue effort will not reach your designated landing zone for at least 86 hours. Over.”

  Bill was racked by an intense coughing fit and whispered, “Slow, agonizing death it is.”

  Vincent stared at the control panel in shock. There was no way he could change the landing zone. This is it.

  Another voice came through an increasing amount of white noise. “There are two field shelters near your projected landing zone. Their homing beacons are activated. Make your way to one of them and wait for us. Good luck. Over.”

  Seconds later, Vincent’s attention turned to the panels in front of him as they started their descent. He quickly forgot about everything else.

  * * *

  When the Soyuz stopped moving, Vincent could scarcely believe how smooth the landing had been. They had obviously slid down a hillside.

  “We finally got lucky about something,” he said. When Bill didn’t answer, Vincent noticed that he had passed out.

  “This is Blue Star, do you copy? We have landed safely and are now coming out of the Soyuz.” Communication had not worked during the descent, and he doubted it would now that they were on the ground. Still, he had to try. He placed the hailing message on a loop and unstrapped himself.

  He felt it instantly. Gravity. His arms were heavy and clumsy, even with Mars’ weak pull. He wouldn’t be able to walk unassisted on Earth, but was surprised to find out that he could manage it here. With a grunt and a twist he eased out of his seat and leaned over Bill.
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  “Wake up, we gotta get out of here and start moving.”

  Bill opened bloodshot eyes. “I can’t.”

  “Come on, I’ll help you stand up.”

  “I think my leg’s broken.”

  “Only one way to find out,” said Vincent as he unbuckled Bill. He then clicked shut both of their helmets and opened the hatch.

  He was momentarily blinded by sunlight, and then saw why the landing had been so smooth. They were indeed on a steep slope, just as he had thought. A light chime sounded in his suit’s speakers, announcing on his visual compass the general direction and distance of the two beacons. The first one, uphill and to the right, was apparently 145 kilometers away. Much too far.

  The second one, downhill and on the other side of the valley or crater in which they found themselves, some sixteen kilometers. Perfect. We should be able to walk three or four kilometers an hour. Maybe.

  “How far is it?” asked Bill

  “Roughly sixteen clicks, fairly flat ground. No sweat.”

  “I don’t think I can make that.”

  “You can lean on me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve got ten hours in our tanks. We’re in no hurry.”

  “I can’t even get out of here on my own,” whined Bill.

  “Let me help you. That’s it, grab my tank, here we go.”

  Bill almost stood, before slumping down again with a deep grunt. “Forget it, my leg’s broken.”

  “We have to get going. Let’s do it another way.”

  It took three more tries, and Bill eventually crawled out of the Soyuz and fell in a heap outside. “I can’t do this,” he cried.

  Vincent was breathing hard and leaning on the side of the capsule. Over there, in the distance, was their salvation. He couldn’t make out any man-made construction, but a shelter was somewhere across that plain, waiting for them. He reached back inside the Soyuz and brought out the bag of diamonds. With quick movements he tied a knot below the hole and loped the cord around his neck, securing their precious payload to his back.

  “I don’t want slow, agonizing death,” slurred Bill.

  “We’re not going to make it if you keep blubbering. Let’s take it one step at a time. First, we’ll go down and go rest on that flat rock over there. Then, we’ll start moving, slowly, and make it to the shelter. Okay?”