Binary

Chapter One: Planetfall

On the 27th day out from Space Station Mariah, the Hendrix and its complement of 200 set down on an asteroid devoid of life and set about the work of terraforming. How they got there is an old story with an easy ending. You jump and then you hope.

Seemingly endless void stretches out beyond the rock as it looms into view. With instruments on and your visor down, you can make out large nearby celestial objects or at least read enough telemetry to scan away for later study. But seeing it now, even though it has become familiar in its way, is still breathtaking.
All the more because I got to blow the hatch and take the first crew in. My first landing as crew chief and section leader. And they said this boy would never make it. Twelve minutes to apogee.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, taking a crew in and among them is Van, the best soldier in Space Force and the toughest woman in I’ve ever known. I pray for the engines to die smoothly and planetfall will turn out to be just a pressurized descent with a little jolt at the end to let you know you’re still alive; and I pray for this not to be the day of the firestorm.
As visions of stars flash through my mind, I pray harder and feel my ribs crushed back into my spinal column and the retrorockets kick into atmospheric control attitude. The rush of depressurization washes over me like a cool evening tide and I stop praying.
The miracle is here. Maybe tomorrow will come the firestorm.

The work itself is clockwork, simple stuff that anyone with good reflexes and some sensitivity to the instruments could handle under normal circumstances, but in space risk is ever present and reward walks hand in hand with the reaper.
It was steady, regular work for Kimbro and the others in his quasi-military unit -- comprised of 50 recruits direct from Space Force Central Command, all carrying the rank of ensign. The ensigns served the rest of the crew their meals and after a while, began to see themselves as the engine that drove the armada. The other 150 in the regiment were ranked according to seniority or specialty, those with technical knowledge or a particularly keen aptitude for tactical missions holding the highest stations. Kimbro was only 23, but had risen quickly out of the ensign corps and into Operations, serving as navigator and survey chief. The Hendrix’ pilot, Commander Brooks Atkinson, relied on the younger man heavily, and the Hendrix was a profitable ship mainly due to properly surveyed jobs, with their handiwork standing out among the many AstroTech installations they had a hand in building. They would need Kimbro’s instincts and logic to get through the next six days, but they couldn’t have known that, or more accurately have understood how much they would need him on day twenty seven. Kimbro’s left palm itched a little in the center, as he reached for the control panel touch screen to pull up the star charts that were updated hourly by the control computers. That itch was familiar, an old friend that never failed him; he called it the love touch, and when he had it, there was never any doubt that he would remain on course.
The current trip was planned for years in advance by AstroTech engineers on Earth and the orbital colonies for the Moon, but had been delayed by an unexpected revolt by the terraforming drones at work on dozens of Martian colonial asteroids – artificial satellites bestowed upon the red planet after the first successful terraform mission in 2034 established the drones as reliable workers in harsh environments.
AstroTech beat out NASA after the deregulation of 2020 for a monopoly on the space travel and satellite launch business that sprung up in response to the wild success of the Lunar Colonization Project. Armed with all the resources of United Earth Inc., the LCP started the advanced research which led to the creation of the Santana class scout lander/terraformer and sent out 19 to meet the Martian business challenge.
Kimbro and three other ensigns, including Van, fell in behind the commander as he opened the hatch and stepped out onto the amber asteroid’s dust. Atkinson looked over his left should, held up two fingers and crooked them to beckon Kimbro. The surveyor ambled up, grabbing the prelim charts off the network and beaming them directly to the commander’s visor. “Good work, son. Just what I needed to know.” After a time he said, “Look sharp. Twenty kilometers dead ahead. That’s where we’ll dig our first well and drop the enzyme pack to begin terraforming.”
Van and the others spread out, forming the wings of a V-formation, all armed and ready for danger. The drones had taken to the shadows, hiding behind gigantic rock formations and burrowing deep into the asteroid to avoid detection from orbit. They could be anywhere and if the AstroTech briefings were to be believed, they were now sentient and set on stopping any further development of the colonial asteroids by AstroTech or its Space Force cannon fodder. Van looked ahead to the point where Kimbro walked alongside the commander just in time to see how far the drones had advanced.
In almost the wink of an eye, Atkinson was dragged down into a ten-meter wide hole that opened beneath his feet. Kimbro and the rest of the company stepped back from the point, and then instinctively leaned forward to try and catch the falling commander. It was no use.
The drones had set their trap and the end of Atkinson’s life was broadcast to each member of the scouting party via radio link, which they had looped to include the others waiting back in the drop ship.

to be continued…