c. 2026 Rod Ice
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(4-26)
When Lotharian Gardino received word that the mission to revisit Mare Frigoris had failed, his explosive temperament was unleashed. He pounded the conference table with both fists, as other members of the coastal governors witnessed this outburst in shock.
“HOW COULD THESE IDIOTS POSSIBLY BE SO INCOMPETENT? WE HAVE EXPENDED A FORTUNE IN RESOURCES TO GET UNDERWAY WITH THE NEXT LUNAR PROJECT! THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! WE WILL BE THE SUBJECT OF SCORN AND RIDICULE, EVERYWHERE ACROSS THIS CONTINENT! I CANNOT ABIDE BEING HUMILIATED!”
Darden Tomea, a younger member of the council, observed that they would need months or years to prepare for another attempt at reviving the Luna Citadel base. He had the black hair and darker skin of his Mexican progenitors.
“What do you advise us to do, Prime Keeper? We are out of options, I am afraid.”
The elected head of their cooperative republic did not want to hear any notes of dissent being offered. He seethed with anger over being cheated by fate.
“GET GOING ON LAUNCH NUMBER THREE! THAT IS MY COMMAND!”
Gordoni Guaca, the senior member of their confederation, shook his head with remorse.
“That isn’t possible, Lothi. We’ve run out of resources. It’ll take weeks or months just to assess the flaws that put us in this situation...”
Gardino pummeled the table until its synthetic materials began to disintegrate.
“NO, NO, NO, NO! I WON’T STAND FOR THIS! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE WE ARE CRIPPLED BY OUR OWN STUPIDITY! THIS IS NOT PART OF THE PLAN FOR DOMINANCE!”
Tomea put one hand over his mouth, while reflecting on that candid comment.
“Dominance, Prime Keeper? I thought your desire was to unite the enclaves. Wouldn’t that mean an equal footing for all of the nations, east, north, and us to the west?”
Their head-of-state had worked himself into a lather. But almost instantly, that mood was stalled by the simple query. He tried to twist away from his own confession.
“Yes of course, my friends. Equality for all partners. That is a noble goal, indeed! Forgive me, I spoke too quickly...”
Guaca scratched his gray goatee, and smiled.
“Lothi, I think you were being honest, and ambitious. But remember, we all wanted to see the lunar outpost reactivated. Attempting this miracle with such haste is what put us at a disadvantage. We should have been more cautious. Now, we have no choice but to sort out the details, one at a time. We cannot magnify our failure with more carelessness.”
Tomea bowed his head deferentially to the other coastal governors.
“Our esteemed colleague is wise. We should listen to him!”
Gardino huffed over this show of unanimity. But chose to change the subject, rather than argue.
“So, what was the report from Toqua Platte? What happened to our lander and capsule?”
Over a wireless link to that scientific facility, Arbiter Goland Pick joined their lively conversation in real time. He was eager to be heard, despite what had transpired.
“Prime Keeper, the craft we launched was damaged in transit. Then, it met with a stray meteor while attempting to continue its voyage. Our flight engineers are trained for a variety of escape scenarios, and reentering the planetary atmosphere. Most acceptable would have been a separation of both modules, with our capsule drifting west, toward the Pacific Ocean. And its lander assembly finding a convenient spot, elsewhere. We believe, however, that the twin vessels came down without splitting into halves. In that case, the descent toward dry land needed to be managed with thrusters powered by the impeller system. Their velocity must have been recklessly out-of-limits. The surface module is designed for Moon encounters, not the full gravity we experience here on Planet Earth...”
Young Tomea gasped audibly when hearing this description.
“They hit the ground that hard? How could anyone, or anything, survive such a landing?”
Arbiter Pick was sober in his assessment.
“It would be rough on the crew. They might have been knocked unconscious, or suffered fractures or other injuries, despite being strapped into their safety harnesses. With the proper amount of impeller propulsion, they might have been able to plant the craft like a spike in the ground, on a vertical descent. Though having that level of control seems unlikely.”
Gardino cleared his throat, and frowned intently while thinking.
“How long will it be before we know for sure, Goland? There are too many questions left unanswered!”
The engineer from Toqua Platte was uncertain. Yet attempted to sound confident in their technological capabilities.
“Keeper, I just don’t know. But it is likely that we will receive some form of communication within the next several hours. I would give them all a chance to catch their breath after that kind of ride! In the meantime, we will hail them according to procedure. There is no signal from their onboard beacon, so far. We have been unable to determine exactly where they put down...”
Guaca groaned to himself, and closed his eyes.
“I would petition the cosmic sire to grant them mercy. May the crew be safe and sound, and come back to us, very soon!”
Tomea nodded to signify his agreement.
“Indeed, elder sir! I hope they will be protected.”
Lotharian Gardino was uncomfortable with this display of emotion and empathy. But joined in their common prayer for survival.
“Yes, yes, very well. May all of them be found and rescued, in due time. But what about us, what about another mission? How quickly will we be able to mount a new campaign for reviving that lunar base?’
Arbiter Pick had to choose his words carefully, before offering a reply.
“Keeper, we don’t have anything ready for launch at this time. It will take at least a year to build the next generation of exploratory vessels. And our stockpiles of chemical fuel are depleted. I think funding research on the impeller program would be more wise. We need an improved system for propulsion, one that does not require huge amounts of thrust at the outset. Unfortunately, our technicians have not yet devised how to accomplish that daunting task. If you simply reuse old designs, the results will be no better...”
Their elected leader clenched his teeth, and growled. He had grown tired of seeking counsel from his timid associates. His patience had been exhausted.
“I ASK FOR ANSWERS, AND WHAT YOU GIVE ME ARE HEADACHES! I DON’T WANT DITHERING AND DOUBLESPEAK, I WANT RESULTS, GENTLEMEN! DO YOU HEAR? I WANT RESULTS! I WANT RESULTS OVER EVERYTHING ELSE!”
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