Excerpt from "The Kiss at the End of the World"  

Chapter 40 - Mars Base Freedom

Commander William Tahoe had taken his chief engineer aside

“Okay, you’ve been grousing around for the several days here. Now, I’d like to know what your problem is, Grief. Out with it.”

“Sir, I cannot until I am sure of my data,” Grief wiped his nose with his ever-present hanky, and back into the back pocket it goes.

“Come on, out with it. Damn it man, I’ve known you for thirty-five years. I know when something is up in that little engineer head of yours. Now, spill it.”

“Sir, I cannot be sure…”

“Grief, this is an order.”

 “Okay, then. Sir, it is this report I’ve been checking over from logistics.”

“Yes, so? We went over that. We seem to be sitting pretty, as far as resources go.”

“That’s the problem, sir. The numbers…”

William looked back down at his tablet, as another message flashed across the screen. This one about pressure fronts from the Martian weather. Bored, he said, “Yes. The numbers. They can’t be too far off, right?”

Grief grabbed his arm and said, “Sir, from what I can tell they are way off.”

This stopped the Commander cold, “What? We went over all logistics several times already. Everything looks good. Food reserves; water; air recirculation, all look good for as long as we have to remain here. We can stay here forever, right?”

“Commander, what were the original compliment of settlers here at Freedom base?”

“You know as well as I do. You were with us. Four hundred of the heartiest souls to ever live.”

“And how many joined us in the next waves of ships?”

“You know all this too. Three waves of ships delivered two hundred more souls.”

“Any more?”

“Yes, we’ve had fourteen engineers join us. Regrettably, three accidental deaths. One dozen that have been, shipped back to earth, also regrettably. Oh, and one new, healthy baby boy born just a few days ago.”

“Right. I read that as a total of five hundred and ninety nine people in which live upon our little island here.”

“Okay, go on.”

“The numbers that we have been crunching have been derived from the original four hundred original settlers. Not the nearly six hundred here now. And certainly not including those that will hopefully join us from the ISSB.”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not commander. That’s what I said. But this is what I can gather from these numbers I’ve been crunching the past several days.”

“Well, that is bad. We’ll have to figure out a way to get by with less, I guess,” he started to turn away.

“But this is not the worst problem, commander.”

“Damn it, man. There’s more?”

“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that, sir.”

Blarney now had the commander’s full attention, as he stared at him with absolute dread, “Go ahead.”

“As you know, Commander, the Mars atmosphere is very unforgiving. On earth, there is the atmosphere which protects us from the worst radiation. Here on Mars, we are not only shielded, but also underground, so our water and food resources are protected.”

“Yes. Years of research was done on this and it was determined that we could reside here with no injurious affects from the radiation topside.”

“Yes. Yes. And for how long?”

“What in the hell are you getting at, Grief?”

“I’ve been running these numbers too, and they don’t look good.”

“Okay. Which numbers?”

“Well, sir, I have been using the Sieverts sliding Scale for long-term low-level radiation exposure. You see, a modern CT scan would probably expose you to less than 10 Millisieverts. Our daily input here, even under the ground with full shielding gives us about half that. The worst exposure is in the one thousand range.”

“Okay, I see what you’re saying.”

“Over time, that scale slides upwards. 5 Millisieverts per year for, well, say a hundred years has a cumulative effect of around half of the worst. So, in one generation of living here, we could all die of radiation sickness and cancers.”

“We, or our progeny may be stuck here for hundreds of years, Grief. How the hell does that configure?”

“It doesn’t, sir.”

“Is there anything we can do to now to mitigate this?”

“Probably not. Of course, if you could create a massive electromagnetic atmosphere to completely surround us, or the planet, we could probably adapt to stay here forever.”

 “Anything else sunshine? What do you suggest, then?”

“Pray, sir. Pray the Earth is not burnt beyond redemption and we may be able to visit her in a few decades, or less.”

“Okay, Grief. You are hereby ordered to take two days off. Keep off from any sort of networking until I tell you, it’s okay.”

“What, sir?”

“Is there anything we can reasonably do right now to change this?”

“Not really, sir.”

“Exactly! Grief, we are now living in extraordinary circumstances. We’ve all lost loved ones, family and friends. Hell, everything we ever knew is now taken from us. So, Chief Blarney I order you to relax and take two days off. I will keep you informed if there are any crucial and immediate developments.”
“But…”

“No buts, Grief. Forty eight hours. And if I see you anywhere near engineering, I’ll personally throw you in the brig. Understand?”

The big guy got a saddened look on his face, like he just lost his best friend.

The Commander repeated, “Understand?”

Blarney reached to his back pocket, pulled out his hanky and blew his nose, as an acknowledgement. Then, suddenly his face brightened considerably. He looked up at the Commander and said, “Well, okay then. There is a whole set of engineering manuals that I’ve been aching to get to but have been too busy. I’ll see you in a couple, Commander.”

William shook his head, as his head engineer hurried off to his quarters. He started to walk the other way down the corridor, when an engineer’s assistant passed him, and he grabbed the young man by the arm, “What’s your name, ensign?”

“Woodruff, Sir.”

“Well, Woodruff. Please do me a great favor; in my cabin behind the book cabinet there are two bottles of Bourbon Whiskey. Please take these, and send one to Head Engineer, Grief Blarney in his room. The other one you may enjoy with your mates. Please do not drink on the job. Got that Woodruff?”

“Yes, sir. But, sir? I do not drink.”

“Well, good for you. You’ll live longer. And, I predict you will be very popular with your friends for the evening. Now, scat.”

“Yes, sir!” The ensign scurries off the same direction that Grief headed.

The Commander shook his head and though he felt good, he knew that his friend and Engineer was probably right. They were absolutely doomed.