c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-26)
Arbiter Goland Pick was used to being in charge at the Toqua Platte complex, with all of the different responsibilities that entailed. His background in science, engineering, and managing people made this daily chore a pleasure to execute for the coastal governors. Yet when Lotharian Gardino came to call, that confidence was tested. He knew well that the elected leader of their western enclave was ambitious, and driven to achieve goals that other figures might have found to be overwhelming in scope. The pressure he inherited to achieve excellence, when under the watchful gaze of this national steward, was intense.
Predictably, the Prime Keeper immediately wanted information about what had transpired with their mission to Alpha-One, which later became the civilian, Luna Citadel base. But he had no direct answers to provide, only questions that dogged all of his servants at the technology center.
A dark mood of futility settled on everyone, as they were berated for incompetence, and failure.
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR CAPSULE AND LANDER? I ASK YOU ALL, HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? THE CRAFT AND ITS THREE OCCUPANTS WERE YOURS FROM THE VERY BEGINNING! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAVE GONE WRONG WITH THEIR FALL BACK TO EARTH?”
Pick felt nauseous, and clutched his stomach while answering.
“Keeper, we did not receive a homing signal from the distress beacon onboard. That is puzzling, as its activation is automatic in the event of a crash...”
Gardino began to flail his arms, wildly. His sense of outrage could be heard in every chamber of the building.
“NO SIGNAL? YOU ARE RECEIVING NO SIGNAL? IS THAT AN INDICATION THAT THE CREW PERISHED UPON IMPACT?”
His servant and adviser cringed while gesturing over the main control panel.
“Possibly, we must consider it to be one of several outcomes that may have occurred. Or perhaps the beacon itself was disabled. The Frigoris-Farragut ship would have made landfall at a great distance from our sensor network. We can’t be certain that their signals could be detected immediately...”
The Calimex leader literally spat mucous while shouting abuse.
“YOU CAN’T BE SURE? ALL YOU MEN AND WOMEN OF KNOWLEDGE CAN’T BE SURE? WHAT KIND OF EXCUSE IS THAT, MR. ARBITER? I WOULD EXPECT MORE FROM A PERSON OF YOUR HIGH STANDING IN THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY! THIS IS A DISAPPOINTMENT I CANNOT ACCEPT!”
Goland Pick bowed deferentially, while continuing his work.
“Keeper, you speak with great authority. I have no explanation for the disappearance of our vessel. It does not follow what we have experienced during past flights to the lunar orb...”
As the technical team was being chastised, a notification blip appeared on their main display. A combined sensor array had finally detected the faint tones of a code sequence, sent in response to persistent hails of the capsule-lander duo.
Eugene Pataki, who had the slender profile of a plucked chicken, with the personality to match, exclaimed loudly over this unexpected change in status.
“Arbiter, look at that! We’ve got a lock on the Mare Frigoris craft! It’s a miracle after so many days of silence! A genuine miracle!”
Gardino slammed his right palm against the control console.
“FINALLY, YOU ARE GETTING SOME RESULTS HERE! GOOD WORK, I SAY! THIS WILL MAKE MY REPORT TO THE GOVERNING COUNCIL A HAPPIER EXPERIENCE!”
Technician Gene brightened with this change in disposition. He had been fearful of banishment throughout the morning.
“The code we’re getting is a distress signal, sir. It indicates severe trauma to the twin vessels. They must have landed hard, still moving at a speed too fast for a safe reentry!”
Pick waved his hands over the control tiles, and they flashed different colors in response.
“The battery output is very weak, Prime Keeper. There can’t be much left of the capsule and lander. With just a handheld com, I doubt the men could contact us, it takes too much energy to cross such a great distance. They would need the ship’s power sources for backup, which are now likely to be unavailable...”
Their titular head-of-state glanced around the room with a defiant expression of superiority.
“How can we find out for certain? What will it take? Land drones? The Seagull survey bots? A military platoon sent across this continent? Let it be done, whatever that might entail!”
The Toqua Platte chief grimaced with each of these options being tallied. None of them was practical or guaranteed to succeed.
“Keeper, there are difficulties with what you suggest. Our land drones are inhibited by wilderness conditions in the heartland areas. The ground-level conditions are quite inhospitable. The amount of time it would take to assemble a group of soldiers for such a long excursion might be considerable. And it would certainly be a hindrance to our efforts. We have no idea how they would fare in that kind of primitive environment, without a supply chain and logistical support. The Seagull bots can fly for extended periods, and probably represent our best option. But maintaining control through the interference generated by cyclical storms would be challenging. We’ve never worked with those kinds of parameters in effect. There might be a loss of communications, which could invite chaos. With each of those choices, we would be expending vital resources and manpower. Those are finite quantities for us, we only have so much at our disposal as a republic...”
Lotharian Gardino raised both fists, and became vocal in protesting this assessment.
“NONSENSE! OUR PEOPLE ARE OUT THERE, SOMEWHERE! WE CAN’T ALLOW THEM TO FALL PREY TO AN UNSEEN ENEMY! WE ARE A MIGHTY POWER ON THIS PLANET! OUR PLACE IS AT THE HEAD OF THIS GLOBAL TABLE, NOT COWERING IN A CORNER! IF WE CAN’T PROTECT OUR OWN EXPLORERS, WE CERTAINLY CAN’T SET AN EXAMPLE FOR THE OTHER ENCLAVES AND THEIR CITIZENS!”
Every member of the technical staff had their head down. There were gasps and groans around the facility.
Goland Pick stood with his arms crossed. He had finished the chore of locating their Frigoris-Farragut vessel.
“Prime Keeper, our capsule and lander are at the northeastern edge of what was formerly called Ohio. They put down near a body of water that separates the region from Torontara, one of the other independent republics. A flock of Seagull surveyors could reach that spot in a matter of days, much faster than land drones or a platoon of conscripts. The decision is yours to make of course, but that is my take on the possibilities we possess.”
The elected official was considered to be first among equals. In charge of the ruling council, but subject to the consent of all other coastal governors in their federation.
“Very well, Mr. Arbiter! Prepare the surveyor fleet! I will gather my fellow representatives for an executive meeting. There can be no doubt that they will agree on this bold plan of action. We cannot fail to solve the riddle of what happened to our mission commander and his crew! It must and will be done, without delay!”
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