Chapter 20
The train puffed its way up and up and up Hegel pass, drawn slowly forward by the growling pistons of the steam engine. Its infernal cauldron was filled with coal from one the twenty five, four-hundred square mile strip mines operated by the Gaiastan government.
It was night when they reached the top of the pass where the railway carved a slot through snow and ice ten feet deep. They began their decent without pause and the train’s wheels screeched and squealed in the darkness as they tried to grip the slippery iron rails and resist the immutable downward pull of gravity.
D’naia slept in Indigo’s arms, face concealed by the darkness and locks of her silky hair. There was one lantern in the car and beneath it sat the taxidermist still dutifully reading her Gaians Bible in the dim glow. The dozen others in the cattle car sat huddled in the corners, silent and grim. Indigo recognized one of them as the Hegeltown Vizier whom he encountered shortly after his arrival. She had then expressed so much pride in having been selected for bureaucratic advancement. So much for one’s dedication, Indigo thought. He wondered what she had done to merit a brain reformat.
From time to time, the train’s braking would send a chain reaction jolt through the cattle car which reminded Indigo of the effect of the Astarte’s forward auxiliary rockets which fired frequently, making corrections to the spacecan’s celestial trajectory and deceleration into Mars orbit. By that point in the mission, there were only three astronauts left: Indigo, Staley and Athena. Their water was leaking out leaving a million mile tail of tiny ice droplets. Athena, attempting to lighten the mood, joked that the survivors might follow the trail of ice droplets home like a celestial Hansel and Gretel. But Staley performed the calculations and determined that there would not be enough water for the Mars landing and a return journey for three souls. One passenger would have to be removed if the other two were to complete the mission. They had to decide who the Hansel and Gretel were to be but they first had to decide how to decide.
Random selection was proposed and rejected by all three as too arbitrary. Age? too discriminatory. Technical skill? None of the three were especially skilled, at least not significantly more than any other. In the backs of their minds, they each silently hoped that Mission Control would scrap the landing and redirect them home. At this point, with so many of the crew having died, what did it matter whether or not they walked on Mars?
Between debates, Staley worked his way towards the back of the spacecan to compose himself and to think through alternatives. Perhaps there was a way the crew could fully wrest control of the ship from Mission Control and return home. But the mathematical precision required to manually thrust the Astarte into an orbit that would catapult them around Mars and back to Gaia vastly exceeded the crew’s capacity. The likely outcome of their calculus would be a one way trip to the Oort cloud, dooming them all.
Nothing else came to Staley until he gazed at the latches of the airlock. How simple it would be for him to step into that coffin-like chamber, seal the door behind, and launch himself into the frozen, irradiated void where his blood would instantly freeze-dry. The problem would then be solved for the other two. It would be a heroic and Athena, whom he loved, would survive. But Staley couldn’t bring himself to do it. He lacked the impulsiveness and psychotic, narcissistic fortitude required to commit suicide. He would leave the fate of all to some other resolution.
The crew reconvened and radioed back to Goropolis. “We cannot decide how to decide,” was their desperate message.
Their message took five minutes to reach Gaia. The technicians there were prepared with a response. The crew knew this because it only took a total of ten minutes to receive a response.
“You need to decide by democratic process. It’s the only moral option. Please appeal to your own altruistic nature when casting your vote.”
And so they each took a scrap of paper and wrote down a name. There were no rules, they could write any name, and because of this Staley was convinced that everyone would write their own name resulting in a hopeless tie. Then Mission Control would scrap the pointless exercise, scrub the Mars landing, and reprogram them for a return home.
No one looked at each other when they wrote their names on their papers and placed them in an upturned space helmet. The trio stared at the helmet, no one particularly willing to initiate the count that might seal their fate.
Indigo finally radioed Goropolis. “We’ve cast our lots.”
Ten minutes later the response came. “Staley, please read votes.”
Staley reluctantly picked up the space helmet, raising it with caution as if it were filled with nitro-glycerin. Before pulling out the first ballot, he scanned the eyes of the other two. Indigo’s stare was like a dead man’s gaze, blank. Athena’s assuring gaze filled with tears.
“The first is a vote for Indigo,” Staley announced, recognizing Indigo’s heavy-handed, scratching script.
Staley reached back into the bowl.
“The second is a vote for Staley,” he declared, satisfied that the vote was playing out exactly as he had predicted.
He reached his hand back into the helmet to draw out the final vote. As he did so, he looked towards Athena and saw a tear run down her cheek and into the corner of her smile. He withdrew the vote, assured that the three way tie would force Mission Control to abort the landing.
“The final vote is for…” A shudder went through Staley as his eyes could not believe what he saw. He read out the name written upon the slip of paper. His voice was barely audible.
“Staley”
Indigo immediately dropped his face into his hands. Staley shook his head wishing he had not read it out loud. Athena sobbed but nodded affirmatively.
“No. No. It’s a mistake. It’s not right,” Staley shouted. “I won’t let it be decided like this. No way.”
Athena reached out to Staley and placed her fingertips to his lips.
“Why? Athena? What have you done?”
Athena did not speak. She withdrew from Staley back to the rear of the spacecan, towards the airlock where she began putting on her spacesuit.
Staley plead with her. “No! No! Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. I won’t let you. We’ll tell Mission Control it was a mistake. We’ll make them abort the landing.”
Athena was undeterred. Staley grabbed her arm but she yanked it loose and continued putting on the suit.
“I won’t let you do it,” he insisted. But his protest was of no use. Indigo watched Staley plead with her but he knew it was pointless. Athena was made of stuff much stronger than they were. She would get her way even if Staley was somehow able to temporarily prevent it. Indigo couldn’t watch any longer.
She geared herself up while Staley wept. She was ready save for her space helmet. She looked into Staley’s reddened eyes and smiled one last time. Her own tears had stopped flowing by then. She whispered into his ear then pulled away, put on her helmet and entered the coffin. Staley watched her through the portal as she, with unwavering, mechanical precision, sealed the interior airlock and dropped the lever which opened the external hatch. Her silvery, un-tethered figurine was instantly sucked out by the void in a silent murmuration of glittering ice crystals.
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