A Robinson Tale

Part III

Tempus Fugit

Chapter 4

A blanket of white, toxic fumes invaded the airlock.

John raised his arm and watched his hand disappear in the thick mist. Last time he'd seen something like this had been during a survival training in Alaska. He hadn't thought that possible: today was colder. He was stepping toward the ledge, the thrill of his halo Jump above the icy vastness of the Northern state reinvigorating his body, when a red hue suddenly colored the fog. He flattened against the bulhkead fast as the robot crawled out of the airlock like a spider. Aghast, he then put a hand on the hatch frame and stretched his neck out to see where it had gone when Judy's stressed-out voice burst into his left ear.

"Dad? What's happened?"

"Er... Our friend's gone AWOL again."

"The robot? Why is he doing that?"

"I'll ask him next time I see him."

"We should have expected this."

John glanced back at Harris and sighed. She was right. He should have expected this because it was the reality of the field that no plan resisted contact with the enemy. They weren't even out that things were going south already. Feeling like an amateur, John unfolded the ladder and dropped a glow stick to the bottom. The light faded out into the veil. Great. At least the Jupiter was proof that there was a solid ground beneath them, wasn't it?

"I'll go down first. You stay up here to pass me the equipment," he told Harris, tugging twice on his rope to check that it was secured. How many rings did this ladder have already? Eight or ten?

He'd counted seven when his foot hit the planet's floor hard. The thin crust of methane ice broke under his weight and he plunged knee deep into an icy pond.

"Dammit!" John pulled his leg out and checked for a tear in his suit.

"Dad? What's wrong?"

"I splashed into a puddle, that's all. Hey, Jude. I know it ain't easy, but keeping a constant eye on my vitals will drive us both crazy. Focus on what we've talked, okay?"

"Okay."

Her lack of enthusiasm worried him. The stress was gnawing at her. Not much he could to help her from here. John winced as he stared anew at the fog.

"Will?"

"Yes, dad?"

"I can't see an inch in front of me down here. Pull the Jupiter's schematics and tell me where exactly the fuel port is from the airlock hatch."

"Hold on a sec... It's on the starboard side. About seven meters from the airlock and two meters from the edge of the hull. Sorry, I can't be more precise than that."

"That will do. Thanks." John glanced up. Without the robot's extraordinary strength, bringing all their equipment down would be no picnic. "Hey, Harris? Pass me the first pipe, will you?"

Thirty minutes later, sweat rolled into John's eyes as he stood on his toes, arms extended above his head, struggling to gain the two inches he needed to connect the pipe to the fuel port. Once more, the soaring pain radiating from his left wrist forced him to take a break.

He turned toward his idle partner.

"Do you have a good balance?"

"I did gymnastics when I was a kid."

"Good enough." John handed Harris the pipe and kneeled in the fog. "Climb on my back."

"What?"

John waved her to comply. His day sucked enough without having to justify why or why not.

Harris leaned a hand on his helmet for support.

John stiffened a moan of pain as she managed to haul herself on his back. Tears stung his eyes. Oh god! A sumo would have been lighter! She was lifting the pipe when her left foot skidded on his compressed air tanks. As she swayed backward, John grabbed her rope and pulled her toward him to avoid her a potentially disastrous fall on her back. Last thing they needed was to detonate a bomb under the Jupiter.

"Sorry. I... I don't think it's a good idea anyway. I'm putting way too much weight on your tanks."

John kneeled back into the fog. "Try again."

To his relief, Harris's second attempt succeeded. John squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath. "When it's in position, lower the lever to engage the lock mechanism," he said through clenched teeth.

"Dad?"

"Not now, Jude." For god's sake, couldn't she disregard all distractions and focus on hyperbaric medicine? If things went sideways, and right now the odds of an accident happening increased by the second, her preparation would make the difference between life and death for him.

"Got it," Harris announced.

"The light on the control panel, is it green?"

"It's green."

"Good job. Now, get off my back."

Harris promptly obliged and John sat up fast on his heels, panting and cradling his injured arm.

"John?"

"I'm good," he said, thinking she was checking up on him like a teammate would. But her eyes weren't focused on him. She was scanning the fog with her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I heard a creaking."

John held his breath for a second. Because he'd boosted the earbud's volume in his left ear to the max so he could communicate with the crew despite his tinnitus, he was deaf to any ambient sounds. "What kind of creaking?"

"Like fingers drumming on a desk." Harris's eyes grew wide. "That one was sharper, more like a–"

John grabbed Harris's arm and pushed her away from the Jupiter. They rolled together for several feet when Harris suddenly screamed. Helpless, John watched her being dragged back into the fog. The ground shook hard and the methane ice broke under him. Only one thing could have caused such a shock: the Jupiter.

"Judy? Will? Penny? Are you alright? Kids, answer me!" he asked as he lay in a shallow puddle. So much for staying on one's feet.

"Penny accounted for."

"Will accounted for."

"Dad? I know you hate when I'm asking but–"

"I'm alright, Jude."

"I'm fine too, in case anyone wonders." Harris voice crackled into his ear. "Might need a little help, though..."

"Where are you?" John asked.

"Just beneath the airlock, I think. My rope got entangled on something."

"Okay, don't move. I'm coming to you."

John cracked another glow stick and walked around the Jupiter, inspecting the damage on his way to the airlock. The ground under the two front landing pods must have yielded under the Jupiter's weight and the ship lay at an angle, his butt up and his nose deep into the ice, which meant... John looked up and groaned.

"Stop wiggling, will you?" he told Harris who, six feet up in the air, was twisting her body like a worm to free her rope.

John took out his knife from its ankle holder.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Cling on my neck," he said, cutting her free.

Harris dropped in his arms. "I didn't sign for that!" the woman exclaimed, stepping away from him with a glare.

John grabbed the loose end of her rope and shot an eyebrow up. "Oh, yeah? And what did you sign up for exactly?" he asked while he tied her rope on his with a tautline hitch so she could slide up and down his rope if needed. "Now relax and watch your steps or we'll both fall."

On that, he put his knife back in its holder and picked up the second pipe. "Let's get moving."

As they got closer to the methane lake, the extraordinary strong pull of the planet gave the fog a weight of its own. John couldn't shake the chilling image of trudging his way through a thick, unending tunnel of spiderwebs. Each time the luminosity weakened, he glanced up to check that no arachnid-like creature hovered above his head.

John swallowed hard as his uneasiness grew. Was he hallucinating? He'd warned Harris about the bends but maybe flying pink elephants existed on this world. Would he recognize the difference between reality and nitrogen narcosis-induced delusion?

Having no idea on the matter, John dismissed the spiders and focused on counting his steps. He was at twenty-nine when Harris called him. She'd reached the end of the length of the pipe connected to the Jupiter.

While Harris lowered herself to connect the two pipes together, John stared at the fog anew.

"Done," she announced.

John squatted to double check. All good. "Okay, now you can go back to the Jupiter but don't untie yourself from my rope, okay? Wait for me there and we'll climb back in the airlock together. Think you can do that?"

"Yes, sir."

John ignored the disdain and turned to pursue his task when Harris let out a scream. What now? John swivelled his head and cursed.

She was hip deep into a puddle. He seized her arm and hauled her out on firm ground. Harris clutched on him.

"I've felt something! I've felt somemthing on the ground! There's something–"

John grabbed the panicking woman by the shoulders. "Calm down. That's the bends, remember? There's nothing here but us. Can you walk?"

Harris winced as she put some weight on her left foot. Her face transformed back into an expression of panic. "There's something freezing cold along my leg. Oh god, it hurts! It's burning!"

John reacted quickly. He kneeled next to her and wrapped the duct tape several times around her left leg. "You're done. I'll get you back to the airlock."

Twenty minutes later, John stood at the bottom of the airlock, alone in the methane fumes. Judy's voice crackled in his ears.

"Dad, let me come with you," she asked, trying one more time to convince him to let her help him.

A shadow flew fast above him.

John cringed. What was that? It was gone.

"You have a patient, Jude. By the time you're done, I'll be done too."

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it. You just-"

"I just have to do it, I know. I hate you."

"Cheers up, Jude," John chuckled as he trudged back into the fog to proceed with the refuel operation on his own. The lake was, according to the geophysical data, less than ten feet ahead when despite his cautious steps, his right leg plummeted into a hidden puddle up to his thigh. The ice broke under his hands as he tried to haul himself out of his predicament. John froze and took a moment to ease his pounding heart.

Years ago at a party, they'd joked about being the first SEAL team to swim in Titan's methane lakes. Maureen had crushed their juvenile enthusiasm: liquid methane being less dense than water, they'd sink like stones to the bottom of said lakes. One of those lake was a few feet in front of him and its bank was unstable. One false move and he'd check Maureen's theory. Problem was, his wife was always right.

John tugged on his rope and felt better. But a tad only.

Slowly, he leaned forward and spread on his belly. Then, he heaved out of his hole and resumed his progression, crawling inch by inch, until the fragile ice sheet formed a ledge that dived into a steep incline. John pulled on the pipe and tipped it over into the fog.

Dammit. Deaf as he was, he couldn't hear a splash. And as burning out the pump wasn't an option, there weren't many ways to make sure the pipe wouldn't be sucking fumes instead of liquid fuel.

The methane was there, waiting for him to do what was necessary to get it.

John pushed himself up on his knees. He had a twelve feet leeway on his rope. Glad that Harris wasn't there to witness another blatant violation of his command, John untied his double overhand knot on his carabiner, replaced it with a Crossing Hitch so he could abseil to the surface of the lake, and tied a stop knot at the end of his rope to avoid going through it.

Then, after testing the solidity of the ground around the ledge, he stood up and positioned himself like he was on top of El Capitan on the most foggy day of the year. That there was probably only a dozen feet beneath him to the surface of the lake was an insignificant detail. It was the power of imagination that mattered.

Don't fall, Maureen's voice warned him in a corner of his mind. Yeah, I know. And climbing back up is going to be a bitch. I know that too. Now shut up and let me enjoy the moment, will you?

John squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Was his thrill a sign that he had the bends?

They needed the fuel.

Let's go get it then.

He was halfway through his rope when through the static crackling in his earbud, he thought he'd heard Harris's voice.

"Is everything good?" he asked.

No answer came. Just white noise.

John tightened his grip on the rope and kept moving.

"Hey, Will? Still there, buddy?"

Nope. Something was blocking his radio signal.

As the luminosity made the suspended crystals in the fog shine again, John touched a darker vein in the purple rock before pulling his hand away. The Jupiter's sensors hadn't picked up a significant level of radioactivity but he might be wise not to dawdle here too long.

John resumed his descent but stopped again when his legs suddenly felt freezing cold. He lowered his eyes and cursed upon noticing he was waist deep in methane.

Methane is less dense than water, Maureen's voice reminded him.

He hadn't felt any resistance as he'd obliviously waded into the methane lake.

After making sure that the pipe was in deep enough to pump six thousand gallons worth of fuel, John braced himself for a slow, grueling ascension.

"Jupiter two? Anyone hear me?" He kept asking as he struggled to pull his frame up the steep slope. Now, he really had to consider a diet. He'd put on way more weight than he thought. Twice more, eh! John laughed at his silly joke. Crap. He was bent.

As John paused to gather his breath, Judy's screaming voice broke through the static.

"DAD! COME BACK!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"There's something out there with you! It's attracted to light."

John quickly dimmed his helmet backlighting when a shadow crept right above his position.

The ground shook. Pieces of icy rocks fell over him. And the tension in his rope vanished.