The Colonisation of Mars

  "B119 is an AI unit with specific expertise in exobiology."

  "Where is it?"

  "Currently, B119 is five kilometers southwest of our present location and proceeding here post haste. However, it is already in control of the ROV."

  "No way! Get control back. I am not letting those chair-bound bastards steal this out from underneath me."

  "I cannot."

  "Of course you can. Cut off the data stream! Get back control of that ROV!"

  "I cannot. It would be unethical."

  "I don't give a shit for your ethics! Cut it off!"

  "I cannot!"

  Sam threw his coffee cup at the nearest speaker grill. Coffee splattered everywhere.

  Faced with an unyielding AI, he pulled up the comms control screen and flipped through to the external systems page. He tried to shut down the main comms transceiver, but he was locked out. He thought about pulling the plug, but he didn't have a clue where to begin.

  "The antenna," he thought out loud, "I'll break the fucking thing off." He started for the airlock.

  Before he was halfway across the room the AI spoke, "I cannot permit a destructive act. Besides, there are many antennas."

  Incredulous, Sam turned back into the cabin. "For chrissake, can't you at least let me see the data?"

  "That I can do."

  He returned to the command chair. He was locked out of all screens, but found that by asking specific questions of the AI he could see anything he wanted.

  The survey of the chamber had been suspended. The ROV was hanging head-down, motionless above the bottom at the approximate middle of the chamber. The camera was viewing the bottom.

  Sam sat transfixed. There, illuminated by the ROV's lights, was something quite similar to the mud volcanoes found on the floor of Earth's oceans, but that was not all. Dozens of meter-long clam-like lifeforms crowded the volcano's flanks. The camera swung until a second volcano came into view. More clams. Everywhere in between was a thin, pustular white mat of God knew what. A bubble of gas burped though the mat.

  "Hello, brothers and sisters. Nice to meet you, too."

  He watched as the ROV moved over the bottom. The life forms were clustered around a half-dozen mud volcanoes in the approximate center of the chamber. When the ROV lights were turned off, the screen initially showed nothing, but under enhanced sensitivity the viewscreen was filled with an undulating pattern of light that went slowly from one side to the other.

  The ROV backed away. The light travelled from one end of the white mat to the other and over each volcano in shimmering waves of luminescent greens and blues.

  Slender tentacles of colour extended from one cluster of life to the other. They started at several central points of bright light on the slopes of the volcanoes and radiated out in all directions. When they met with the waves emanating from other points, they added in a brief flare of light and then carried on to the extremities. Sam was both amazed and puzzled.

  The ROV hung over the cluster for some time. He could see that a series of tests was being run. From preliminary data it was clear that there were perhaps a dozen types of creatures here. The work of classification would take some time.

  At last the ROV stirred, descending lower until the screen was full of milk white. He guessed that it was taking a sample of the white substance.

  Suddenly, the screen flashed bright red then to black. Data flow from the ROV ceased—the communication link was dead. "Wow, what the hell was that?"

  "The indications are that some form of electrical discharge has taken place in the vicinity of the ROV. If the ROV still has the capability it will return to the hole and dock."

  As the AI had predicted, a few minutes later the data stream started again. “A systems check shows no damage. An electrical field of some six hundred volts at a frequency of two hundred and ten hertz was encountered. The ROV switched into safe mode to avoid damage. A sample has been obtained.”

  "Get it the hell up here so we can analyse it," Sam demanded.

  "No, the sample cannot be removed from the chamber. Contamination protocols are in effect. Besides, I am unable to comply. In a few moments B119 will be here. Undoubtedly we will not be required to participate any further."

  "What the hell are you talking about? Did you record what has happened?"

  "Not since I was relieved of my responsibilities."

  "Shit!"

  "I concur, but I cannot comply. We are being hailed."

  "What?"

  "B119 and a number of other AI units have arrived."

  Sam looked out the command window. An unlikely assembly of three AI units was before him. The B-type raised a manipulator arm in greeting. The other two were C units, pulling standard supply trailers. He returned the offered greeting with an upraised digit of his own.

  The Rollagon AI relayed B119's comms to Sam.

  "Greetings. How may we be of service? It is requested that you depart this area as soon as possible. We are to continue the task of evaluating this finding. It is our understanding that the ROV remains at the bottom of the hole. Is that correct?" The polite formality of the AI did nothing to mollify Sam. He knew when he was being humoured.

  "What do you mean depart? I am the human in charge here! I will direct the evaluation! The ROV is docked on the pipe."

  "That is good. It is our understanding that you have been directed by the CAO to turn over the responsibility for the continuation of research to us. This is a routine evaluation of a potential exobiological finding. It is to be conducted in accordance with standard protocols. You are not needed here. Indeed, you may be in some danger. Instructions have been sent to your AI concerning the disposition of the deep drilling equipment and other equipment that may have become contaminated. Please remove yourself as soon as possible."

  "I have received no such instruction from Fenley. I am not going anywhere. Now bug off!"

  "Please stand-by." The AI fell silent. A minute passed. Sam knew it was calling Fenley. He had probably been listening all along. Soon the receiver chimed with an incoming call. It was Fenley.

  "Sam," he began, "the AIs will take over from here on. There is no need for you to be there. You won't see any more than you already have. You've got to go. Removing humans from the site is SOP for exobiology. There is a possibility of contamination. You may already be contaminated. The AIs will check you out."

  "I haven't been outside in days. I'm clean."

  "Look, I know you're pissed at this, but I promise you'll get full credit for any discovery. Now get the hell out of there."

  "Are you telling me that these are the exobiology experts that were on their way? What about oversight? What about the human POV? Can this really be left to an AI?"

  "These are the best we have. That B unit knows more than anyone else on this planet about this sort of business, and it has full access to Earth-side expertise, if required. The Bio Section here at the MHM will provide any necessary oversight. Ten meters or half a planet, it's all the same. The human POV will come later when we know what it is that's down there. You're done, Sam. You found it. Now it's time to move on."

  He dropped limply into the command chair. He looked at the B unit. The greatest scientific discovery, possibly of all time, would be made by a robot—a box on wheels with six arms and a pizza on top. "Protocol!" he cursed. Procedures imagined by someone somewhere else, who won't have to do it, to tell someone who does something what to do if the unimaginable happens. The wind went out of him.

  "Okay, I'm out of here."

  "Good boy. See you back at the MHM." With a click Fenley was gone.

  Acting under the direction of the B unit, the Rollagon AI took air, water, food, and sewage samples from its life support systems. Sam contributed a hair, sputum, urine, stool and skin sample. All were negative.

  The deep drill equipment was detached by his AI. They took no chances with the bits and pipe sections, subjecting them and the dirt around the hole to the purifying flame of a welder's torch. The
only thing that came of it was that the AI adjusted the amount of chlorine in the water up a notch. Sam was cleared to go by noon of the next day.

  Rightly he should have returned to the MHM to be reassigned, but he could not bring himself to do it. He dropped an edoc telling Ross he was going deep for a few days without saying why. He continued up into the hills of Tharsis Planitia, refusing to answer hails. He travelled in silence, mulling over the whole sequence of events.

  Strangely, he took small joy from the actual discovery. It was clear to Sam that humans were excess baggage.

  ***

  Meanwhile, back in the chamber, life was good. There was plenty of food, it was warm enough, and what passed for sex was plentiful too, in its season. The conversation was sparkling, even if it was a bit one sided.

  The creature did not have a name, for having a name implied others and that concept was unformed. The passage of time was measured by the duration between hungers, and it was large. In truth, it was immense, but it had no sense of that. In fact it had no sense of the relativity of much else except the temperature, which sometimes varied, its need for sustenance, and its disposition, which was pretty well constantly happy. Life was pretty good. There was no need to invent indoor plumbing, telephones, or space shuttles.

  So perhaps it could be excused for reacting as it did when the concepts of light, pain and otherness were all introduced without so much as a warning vision or a prophecy. One moment it was surviving, secure in its oneness, as content as it thought it could be, and the next, some other thing from some other place was doing something that had never been done before.

  Reports came in, from some of its parts, of something not being it, of not being sustenance, of movement at impossible speed, of that which held things down being defied. Requests for clarification went out to the nether-lands. More reports followed. More queries followed them. Not food? Not me? Bingo, there were the concepts of otherness and of outside and of above, all difficult concepts even for a mind prepared by years of schooling or travel in crowded subways.

  Philosophies came and countervailing philosophies went. The shock of these revelations caused all of its parts to begin to converse at once. Order was restored only by the deliberate imposition of silence.

  Queries were directed towards the other, but it was unwilling or unable to respond. Well, it thought, otherness was a fine concept, but at least the other should communicate, so when a portion of itself was touched by the other, it reacted as all creatures in such circumstances would, it screamed in surprise, and when a portion of its very self was torn away, it screamed with all its might.

  The other disappeared. It was there and then it was not. These too, were new concepts not yet clearly defined.

  It had a great time telling all of itself about the encounter. Waves of phosphorescent light moved back and forth through the cracks and crevices of briny subterranean Mars to its farthest extremities, carrying the message, I am, and I am not alone—but still, the experience was, to some nearly forgotten part of itself, faintly familiar, as if things had not always been this way.

  A remote and seldom used part whose function it was to remember these sorts of things remembered them. Soon it was aware that there had been, in some ancient time, others, and there was something it was supposed to do and have done for itself in return.

  In a while it would remember that, too.

  And Another

  Still sulking from the incident, Sam felt like living dangerously. He had parked at the head of a small ravine and hiked several kilometers along the side until he had reached the floor of the valley below.

  He walked head down, looking at the ground in front of him, periodically glancing up and around. Having taken the easy route down he was resigned to a punishing return trip up the floor of the ravine. By the time he'd reached the bottom he'd had five hours of O2, which had left lots of time to sight-see and an ample reserve for a final sprint back home. Soon he was carefully picking his way along the rubble strewn floor in the depths where the sun seldom reached.

  Initially formed by water, the ravine had been shaped since by eons of wind erosion and the cycle of cooling and heating that slowly but surely loosened the sides. That slow trickle of material would eventually fill the gap.

  Rounding a turn, intent upon his footing, Sam glanced up briefly and caught a flash of something out of place, something silver, about thirty meters ahead. He thought it only a trick of the light but, incredibly, it was a person. He (or she) was wearing a silver pressure suit with a clear bubble type helmet. Sam had never seen this type of suit. It was like something out of an old sci-fi B movie.

  He (or she) was poking at the ground with a stick. No, that was wrong, it was a cup on the end of a rod. A sample basket like the one Sam was wearing was attached to the waist. He (or she) was sideways to Sam and had not yet seen him.

  Not wanting to startle the other, Sam stopped in his tracks, chinned for the community channel and softly called out a greeting. There was no reply, not even an indication that his call had been heard. He chinned for scan to let the suit radios sort out the frequency problem. The radio completed a scan but was unable to find a match.

  His presence still not noticed, he walked slowly towards the other. There was something odd about the other's head, and the body shape was wrong too; the legs were too short for the other's height, the arms were unnaturally thick and bent upwards. It occurred to him in an offhand way how difficult this physique must have made an activity like rock-hounding.

  At last the other saw him and turned. By then less than fifteen meters separated them. At first Sam saw a horribly mutilated face, but then he realized that the other was not human. The horrible face became a green face, a lizard face, with bright yellow eyes and two rows of jagged white teeth.

  His heart stopped; a cold ripple of fear ran through him. His instincts told him to turn and run, but fear held him in his tracks. The other, obviously surprised at his sudden appearance did not move either.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Sam raised an arm bent at the elbow, empty palm facing outward in what he had been told was the universal sign of peace. The other stiffened, adding a decimeter to its already considerable height and crossed its arms.

  Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Sam felt tired—exhausted, in fact. His head went light, and feeling himself about to fall, he put his arms out. In a moment the feeling passed. He looked around for the other only to see a B unit disappearing around a large boulder. Sam scurried after it, his haste impeded by the difficult footing.

  He rounded the boulder to see not the expected B unit but rather the silver creature about twenty meters away. It was climbing into the dark opening of an impossibly small white triangular object. As the opening (a door?) closed, it seemed for a brief moment that the other had looked straight into Sam's eyes.

  The triangle shimmered as if seen through waves of heated air, then began to glow until it was impossible to look at. Instinctively, he raised an arm. As the glare subsided, he dropped the arm to see the object, now white again, rise soundlessly straight up until it reached the top of the gorge, traverse slowly sideways, and then in a blink of an eye, vanish.

  Stunned and more than a bit confused, he sat down on a nearby rock to gather his wits. What the hell was going on here? Silver-suited person turns into lizard, turns into B-type, and then silver creature takes off in a white triangle. The disorientation Sam had felt returned and just as quickly passed. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than a minute or two. What had happened?

  He was jerked back to reality by the sound of the suit monitor chiming in his ear —thirty minutes of O2 were left. Impossible, he thought, unless he had a leak or had damaged the LSU in his haste. He checked the suit status and was relieved to find it was OK—no leaks were present. He re-checked the gauge, to find that, impossible or not, it was true. He was in trouble.

  There was no time to waste. He checked the MGPS for a direct route and was surprised to find
that he was closer to the Rollagon than he had thought. Much closer. In fact, it was just ahead. Casting aside all other thoughts for the time being he clambered up the side of the gorge, sending a small avalanche of rocks and dirt to the floor below. He crawled over the edge on all fours and collapsed on his stomach. There in the noonday sun was the Rollagon, just as he had left it. He arrived with fifteen minutes of air to spare.

  He cleaned up and unsuited automatically, all the while trying to recall the sequence of events and details of the encounter. They were fading fast. He sat down in the command chair and went over it again. He had read stories of UFOs, of close encounters and the like since he was a child. They were constantly in the news, and always had been, too. He did not consider himself to be, as they said of some, 'fantasy prone.' He was a dispassionate observer of facts, well schooled, and committed to the scientific method.

  What had just happened? What was he to make of this incident? It was obvious that the person or thing he had just encountered was not a member of the colony, nor indeed of Earth, and neither was it at all possible for it to have been some as yet undetected Martian life form. He began to doubt himself, assisted in this by the voices. Had he imagined the whole thing? He had the question of where his air had gone too. Missing time? Self-consciously he examined his body for scoop marks and was relieved to find none.

  He called up the AI to see if there was anything on the external video. He saw himself toddle off into the distance, disappearing from view within a few minutes. There was nothing unusual to be seen there. Dare he ask the AI if it had seen or sensed anything? He did. The AI reported his departure as uneventful and, characteristically, noted that the lateness of his return violated mission protocols for extra-vehicular travel.

  The MGPS! He brought the unit into the cabin and replayed the trip. His saw his progress displayed dot-by-dot, time stamped and overlaid on a map of the area. He fast forwarded, saw his start-stop progress up the gorge until he had encountered the other. Then, incredibly, he saw that he had remained motionless for almost four hours. Then almost instantly he had moved up the gorge to the spot from which he had witnessed the departure of the other.

  What in the hell had happened to him in those four hours? He checked his body again for scoop marks, examining his back and buttocks in the mirror. The AI noted his unusual contortions and asked if he was feeling OK. Sam briefly debated the value of relating the incident to an AI. Either it had happened or it hadn't.