9
Investigation
Helmut was quite self-conscious as he walked across the Patio to the table where Clara and Charlie were already seated, eating lunch. He hadn’t been in Aurorae for two months. Everyone who knew about his appendix operation—which was everyone on Mars—wanted to visit briefly and congratulate him for dealing with a challenging situation.
He managed to get to the table without stopping to talk to anyone, though he did have to nod a few times and wave four times. Father Greg and Anna immediately joined them with their two children, John and Esther, now six and three. Charlie was delighted to see Esther again, who was six months older than he. They were now old enough to play together.
“I’ve been tempted to extend my condolences to the Green World Community, but I have never been sure whether they would be offended by that sort of attention from a Catholic priest,” said Greg.
“I don’t think it’ll offend them,” replied Helmut. “They like to think of themselves as nonreligious, though they are utopians and have a definite ideology. I think you should write them or call Dr. Rivers.”
“Is he recovered?” asked Greg.
“Yes. He wasn’t seriously injured. He did rescue two people from possible death.”
“What’s the place like now?” asked Anna.
“Well the interiors are dead; some trees survived in the B-160, but all the crops had to be plowed under. The airlocks have been reinforced to remain airtight and the big hole has been completely filled up with slurry; they sprayed it with dry ice first to cool off the hole, then added more to be sure the mud froze solid. Teams are busy injecting steam and water into the ground in several places to strengthen some weak spots and prevent future leaks because three large dessication cracks pass under the dome. We’ve also hauled down more well equipment to double their water supply, because the domes need about 2,000 tonnes of water to freeze the subsurface properly. The domes are slowly repressurizing; it’ll take two weeks to make enough oxygen and extract enough argon and nitrogen from the atmosphere to raise the pressures to normal levels.”
“How are they doing, in terms of morale?”
“The GWC people are devastated. Rivers would have lost all his credibility if he hadn’t heroically risked his own life to save others. There are some who are whispering that he took the chance because he knew he’d be completely discredited otherwise. I don’t buy that; I think he really does think he has some sort of inspiration. Victorino Alves was one of the three who died—he was in charge of the cylinder domes when they leaked—so there’s now something of a struggle to see who emerges as the new number three man, and I do mean ‘man’ because Rivers would never appoint a woman to that position. So far, he’s sitting back and letting the dust settle. Everyone wonders whether he’ll be indicted for murder.”
“I wonder, too, though I gather the investigation hasn’t started yet,” said Anna. “People have been slow in saying whether they will serve on the Commission of Investigation or not.”
“That’s the accident investigation,” replied Greg. “The criminal investigation has started; Kent Bytown’s empowered to do it. Silvio has already issued a court order that no records related to the incident be destroyed. Helmut, you probably didn’t hear this; Brendon Maxwell, who is the GWC person here at the Outpost, has approached the Commission and asked for a job.”
“You mean he’s leaving GWC?” asked Helmut, surprised.
Greg nodded. “And he told me there’s at least one person at Aram who wants to leave as a result of this incident. That will cause shock waves through the GWC.”
“Yes. It’s a small, tight-knit community, and they are very sure their philosophy is right. It’ll be a shock. But I doubt GWC will disintegrate. The feeling I got is that they were determined to rebuild and get the domes right this time.”
“I’m not surprised,” added Clara.
“I agree,” said Greg. “So, how are you doing? You seem to have weathered the appendicitis and the operation just fine.”
Helmut shrugged. “There was no danger; Juliette is a very experienced physician, she had plenty of high-quality equipment, and the problem was caught early. I was fully recovered in a week or so.”
“Well, more,” said Clara.
“Okay, ten sols, then. It’s an interesting thought that I have left a frozen piece of myself at the Martian south pole practically forever.”
“And it’s good to know the medical team was able to handle the emergency.”
“And it was good to see the Ceres team was able to handle the Aram emergency. We feel more ready to make this trip than ever.”
Just then Dr. Nigel Stanfield approached the table. “Hey, Dr. Helmut, welcome back! You’ve had a busy month!”
“I sure have, between the appendix and the trip to Aram. I thought I’d see you at the South Pole Station.”
“I changed my plans about three weeks ago. I’ll go down in June or July, depending on the dust storm activity of course. I want to spend more time here so that I can finish my survey of the northern layered deposits. What a terrible tragedy, Aram. I suppose they started an outpost cemetery.”
“Yes, and it has two graves marked by fresh headstones.”
“Are they going to arrest Rivers?”
“I don’t know. It won’t be easy. It’ll be difficult securing the cooperation of the GWC personnel.”
“Really? Just what we need, a sort of rebellion against authority. This incident really exposes the fatal weakness of the immigration plan. We’ve already had to deal with all sorts of slightly fanatical people running around the Outpost. But this shows the dangers of loading Mars with ideologically driven people; well, no offense, Father Greg. I don’t know how the plan can survive. I don’t know how Elliott can survive, for that matter.”
“How do you link him to the accident?” asked Helmut, puzzled.
“He approved the immigration of these people, he had them trained inadequately, and he was the one who was looking the other way when they ignored safety protocols.”
“I don’t know about that, Nigel. I was involved in training them, and we even gave them a full extra month of training at Aram. After we left they clearly cut corners, but they knew what the corners were.”
“As I said, Elliott was the one interfacing with them about safety protocols. He bears partial responsibility for this mess. That’s one reason the investigation has to be independent.”
“To the extent anything here can be independent,” replied Greg. “We all know each other and we’re all dependent on each other.”
“The panel will have to have terrestrial members as well. They may want to postpone some of the investigation a year until new people can arrive.”
“They can’t postpone it that long,” replied Helmut. “People need answers sooner than that.”
“Perhaps.” Stanfield sighed. “This is going to be a big mess.”
----------------------------------
Will heard the tone indicating an incoming videophone call. He glanced at the caller identification: it was Brian Stark. He opened the circuit.
“Good sol, Brian.”
“Good morning, Will. I would ask you how you are doing and all that, but I suppose I had better not. I have a practical question about the Aram Accident Commission. How much of a staff are we talking about?”
“Terrestrial support, as much as you need. Mars support, we’ll probably have to limit it to a few people, but if you can make a case that the Commission needs more, we’ll consider it. Actually, we’ll probably have to grant it, because we don’t want to do anything that looks like we are trying to obstruct the work.”
Stark looked at Will’s face very carefully. “We really will need full independence.”
“I know, and I want you to have it. Brian, if anyone can make the Commission credible and serious, it is you. Your agency is the largest non-Commission operation up here. It has its own people, budget, and facilities. You’ve been here a long time yourself; people up here know you and trust you.”
“I’m not sure they will trust me after this, though.”
“Brian, they have to trust the process. We’re all up here together, but we owe it to each other and to the future of this place to be honest and thorough. We don’t want immigrants to think their lives are in danger because of shoddy construction or shoddy safety management. Investors have to have confidence in this place. Everyone has to have trust in Mars. You have integrity and people know it.”
“Even if they dislike my conservative politics.” Stark sighed, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll chair the Commission. Silvio declined, right?”
“Correct. He said it was a conflict of interest because he was chief judge and was on the Mars Council. Kent Bytown has accepted. We’re approaching Father Greg to see whether he’ll accept in place of Silvio. Gerhard Bach has accepted. Tang Enlai is the fifth Mars member. On Earth we have David Alaoui, Laura Stillwell, Yuri Severin, Harold Lassen, and Douglas Morgan.”
“It’s a powerful team. This will delay our work, I’m sure; we’re rushing to get one hundred kilograms of enriched uranium ready for export this fall. It probably means we’ll delay refueling two of your reactors until early next year. But you are right, Mars needs this, so I’ll do it. I’ll return the letter to you this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Brian. The Commission can be sure of my full cooperation.”
“Thank you, Will. I’m sure we’ll talk about the matter more. Bye for now.”
“Bye.” Will closed the circuit, feeling relieved and a sense of foreboding at the same time. Mars needed a good investigation, but it was going to be very difficult for him personally.
He instructed Anisa to prepare a letter to send to Father Greg Harris that would include the update about the membership. He sent a confidential email to the heads of staff telling them Stark had accepted. He read an emailed report from Emily Scoville, Commander of Cassini Outpost, about the expansion of their supercritical carbon dioxide separation facility. Then he heard a knock on the door. It was Alexandra Lescov.
“Good news about General Stark,” she said. “That’ll solidify the Commission’s credibility.”
“I think so.”
“It’s a shame there aren’t more women on it, though.”
Will sighed. “I know, but you and Lisa can’t serve as heads of staff that report to me, and Madhu can’t because she’s on the Mars Council, and Heather Kimball turned us down. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to let you know that we just got a very thorough study from the Mars Construction Institute, Moscow, about ‘Open-Floor Cylindrical Domes.’ It has detailed design recommendations.”
“Oh?” Will was pleased. “What are they?”
“In brief, they recommend cylindrical domes forty meters wide and up to two hundred long, forty meters apart, with a curtain of plastic buried at least five meters deep between them and a palisade of two pilings per meter extending diagonally twenty meters into the ground along the dome edge and frozen into place to hold it down. They recommend domes be for agriculture only unless completely surrounded by agricultural domes. Housing and work space under the plastic membrane between domes would be allowed as long as it is enclosed in its own airtight bubble. Up to twenty percent of the interdomal area can consist of skylights up to three meters in diameter. The soil under the dome needs to have a minimum of 300 kilograms of water per square meter to guarantee an airtight seal. It’s a complete vindication of the construction principles and a complete rejection of the way Aram proceeded.”
“So, we’d need at least nine cylinder domes in order for one to be habitable?”
“Yes, but they wouldn’t all have to be two hundred meters long; you could have fifty-meter long domes at each end and a two-hundred meter dome in the middle. We could build three lines of these domes, and the middle dome of line number two could be filled with housing and other structures. As soon as we built a fourth line of domes, though, we could convert the middle dome of the third line from agriculture into housing as well. It’s a very practical system for expanding the outpost across the Martian surface. The report comes with specifications for making the endcaps for the cylinders and detailed manufacturing guidelines.”
“And how do you feel about the report?”
She considered. “I would take a different approach; I plan to ask them about wider, higher domes. I like the length, but I want spaces that have more atmospheric volume; they’re a hedge against leaks and produce more attractive spaces.”
“Ask them to study wider domes, then. What do you think of the idea of releasing the interdomal spaces to private construction?”
“The report recommends planning for it by installing the airtight bubbles for the buildings before installing the dome. I think it’s the first step toward privatizing construction and that worries me gravely.”
“I know. But it’s out of my hands; the Borough Council will have to decide.”
“True, but be prepared for a deluge of questions and requests, Will. The design goes on the website this sol. The minimum size of this design involves three rows of forty by forty meter domes with a forty-meter space between the rows, so it’s one hundred twenty by one hundred and sixty. Including the interdomal areas, that’s 19,200 square meters; enough to house and feed about 120 people. Cassini and Dawes will want one even though they don’t need that much space. Meridiani may want one. Aram will want one. Aurorae will want a larger version to replace the 160-meter domes we planned to build after Andalus; we’ll build them on the northern and western side of Andalus where the other three 160s would have gone. In the next two years demand for construction plastic will probably triple. I need to order more equipment while I still can get it on the Columbiad 11 cargo flights and I need to restructure my workforce to accommodate the demand. You’ll get a lot of requests for restructuring budgets and redesigning growth plans. Bioarchive will want lots of space, and note the cylinders can be made any length desired, so every environment can have its own tailored space. There will be calls for public parks.”
“How much cheaper is this construction system?”
“Maybe a third or a quarter; much less.”
Will nodded. “This will be a revolution, then. Yet another revolution.”
“Exactly, and at the same time we’re beginning to get substantial immigration. Even associating this design with Forest Rivers won’t discredit it. Even I can’t discredit it, as much as I don’t particularly like it. It’s the wave of the future; phase 6 of construction, as it were.”
“Thanks for the notice, then. I’ll plan to skim the report later this sol. It’s come just in time, I think, with demand for caravels apparently picking up. It’s also good news on the heals of the accident; it’ll help everyone feel a bit better.”
“Definitely.” Alexandra turned toward the door. “Have a good sol. Read it carefully, and then we can sit and debate various minor points.”
“Okay. Ciao.”
“Ciao.” She headed back to her office and he stared out the window at the escarpment, feeling rather pleased with the development. When they had first arrived on Mars—they had passed the twentieth anniversary just a month earlier—each human being had to be accompanied by over a tonne of life support machinery and two tonnes of structure. But huge enclosures made of indigenous materials did most of the recycling of air and water naturally, which meant they had to import sensors and motors to run fans and pumps. Each arrival now came with slightly less than a tonne of equipment, mostly related to the person’s work. It was an incredible change.
He turned to his emails. After reading three, the videophone rang. It was Father Greg.
“Good sol, Greg.”
“Good sol. So, I would be quite a lightweight on this Commission, don’t you think?”
“Lightweight? When are you ever a lightweight, Father Greg? No, we want people with a lot of experience here, with good reputations, but we also need a range of experience in life support systems, administrative structures, and ethics. You have the experience in ethics to give balance to the Commission.”
“I see.” Greg considered. “Alright, I’ll do it. I suppose you need the formal letter signed and sent back, right?”
“Correct. Sign it, send it back, and it’ll be official. Then we issue the press release and Brian will call everyone to set up a time for the first meeting.”
“Okay. I hate interplanetary meetings; I hope we do as much of our work as possible by email. I’m sure this will interfere with the parish, too; it now takes more time than I can give it. But I’ll muster some volunteers to help with the church work, and possibly I’ll cancel my trip to Cassini next month to celebrate mass there.”
“I heard about the parish forming there; congratulations. You can make that trip; ask Brian. Thank you for accepting.”
“I will be honored to serve. Have a good sol, Will.”
“You, too. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Will closed the circuit. He saw that an urgent videomail had arrived from Louisa Turner. He hit play.
“Will, I’m attaching a videotape of a web press conference that Forest Rivers has held; actually, it’s still going on, and it’s likely to have more reporters join in. Rivers has made a statement saying that he was in frequent contact with you about their construction effort and that you never objected. I have transcripts of two conversations you had with him, including the conversation where you informed him of the one million redback per month fine. I’m drafting a summary of the conversations right now; I’ll get them to you and to your lawyer in about half an hour. We need to respond to this right away so that our refutation is in the same news cycle, so if I don’t hear from Greene, you’ll need to call him and remind him to respond. I need anything else you have; emails with Rivers, other videophone conversations, etc. We’ll need to consider what we’ll release and when; we’ll be pressured by everyone to release everything, of course. But we need to get it together first, release a summary to refute Rivers, then consider our strategy. Bye.”
Will stared at the screen, his heart sinking. It looked like it was going to get nasty, and he hated the thought. He hit reply. “Thanks, Louisa. I’ve assembled all the emails I exchanged with Rivers for the lawyers. Only three relate to the issue. I’ll send them to you. There was one other videophone conversation and Anisa kept a transcript; I’ll ask her to send it. Rivers does not remember our conversations correctly, to put it politely. Every conversation about their construction included an effort to press him about safety. Collins in Safety Management sent him a series of emails as well; you should work them into your chronology. He can send that stuff to you right away because it all went to the lawyers as well. I’ll be glad to look over everything. Bye.”
Will rose and walked to the
window to look at the escarpment. Lawyers, charges, responses. The next few
months, he could see, were going to be very difficult.
© 2005 Robert H. Stockman