The Methane Sea

 

As I mentioned last week I am doing the National Novel Writing Month (NANOWRIMO) this year here is an except from my current story "The Methane Sea" This is just a first draft, pretty raw and unedited yet, so don't be too harsh:

Marco Lin and Kim Fenista moved down what passed for a trail between the rock formations. The methane ice was treacherous, and Lin had already fallen three times. Fenista had only fallen twice. Their suits were strong enough to fall into an industrial meat grinder without damage (well, without damage to the suits. The bones and soft tissue of the occupants might be another matter). The descent to the lake was tricky. Lin had walked this trail every day for the last week and it never got any easier. He still had a bruise on his backside from the day before yesterday. Fenista held up her hand and Lin eased to a stop. They were at the “frozen waterfall” the most treacherous spot on the trail. Fenista grabbed the rope that had been pitoned into the ice wall. She cautiously made her way around the frozen ice formation and made her gradual descent. Once the rope was free, Lin followed, trying to keep one hand on the rope at all times. The good news was that once they made it past this formation, the ground would flatten out to a more leisurely walk to the lake.  Fenista’s legs suddenly flew out from underneath her. She was hanging from the rope.

“You okay?” Marco said.

“yeah. I’m just going to hand to hand until it gets flatter.”

“Copy,” Lin said.

“That doesn’t count as a fall.”

“Looked like a fall to me.”

“Did my butt hit the ground? No fall.”

Lin grumbled and followed her down the rope, keeping himself at least two pitons back. He made sure most of his weight was being taken by the rope. Fenista made it to level ground and gave a “whoop!” She waited for him as he slowly let himself down to the even ground. From there it was 200 meters of mostly level ground to the station.

“Looks like you are going to owe be a beer tonight, she said. You had three falls. I had two.”

“We’re not there yet.”

“Yes, that is why I am going to be extremely careful for the next couple of minutes.” They made it to the lakeside station without incident. They cycled the airlock and moved into the prep room where they could change out of their bulky suits. The station always smelled different from the hab, more metallic compared to the ripe fruit smell of the hab. They stripped down to their skivvies. Lin pretended not to notice Fenista’s taut body. He reminded himself not to think of such things. No good could come of it. Her short dark hair framed her face as she looked at him. Was she thinking the same things? Probably not.

“Remember.” She said. “You owe me a beer.”

“Right.” They each slipped on their station coveralls and moved into the control center.

“You guys are late,” Wach said. He was lounging in a station chair, slumped like a sack of potatoes. Some green substance was on the floor at his feet. The remains of a snack no doubt.

Lin pointed to it. “Do you ever clean up after yourself Wach?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Fenista pulled a rag and cleaner from a cabinet and handed it to Wach. “Do it,” she said. Wach sighed and bent to the task of scrubbing his mess off the floor.

"Well, praise the lord and all the ships at sea,” Vera Palmer said. “You actually got him to clean up after himself.” Palmer sat to Wach’s right. She was a veteran of three other expeditions and at 47 was the oldest member of the team. She was not quite as trim as Fenista, but no one could call her fat. She kept her hair long unlike everyone else on the team. Fenista once had asked her how she could stand to let it get caught in things. “It’s the price you pay for beauty,” she replied and gave her beaming smile.

“How are they doing?” Lin asked Palmer.

“They are almost back. Another ten minutes.”

“Hey, I thought you said we were late? Fenista said.

“You are,” Wach said, “So are they.”

“Anything to report?” Fenista said.

Just kyplankton,” Wach said. “Lots and lots of kyplankton.” Referring to the almost microscopic pellet-shaped animal life which the team had discovered. After the initial excitement wore off, the mundanity of millions of little pellets, and nothing else had dampened the mood of the expedition.

“Preparing to dock,” came Wilson’s voice over the radio. Wach and Palmer vacated their seats and LIN and Fenista took their place.

“Copy,” Fenista replied.

“Good alignment,” Wilson said. “Docking in three, two, one . . . “ there was the faintest bumping noise, almost inaudible. “Docked.”

“Copy, docked,” Fenista said. It took a few minutes for Wilson and Sab to go through the evac procedures and traverse the tunnel through the ice up to the station. Palmer and Wach were there to greet them at the entry port in the prep room and then take their place moving down the tunnel to the submersible.

“How did it go?” LIN asked.

“Okay,” Wilson said. “Same old stuff you know?”

You were working grid B10?” Fenista asked.

“Yeah,” Sab said. “B10. Almost finished with it. Palmer and Wach should finish it tonight. I don’t think we are going to find anything interesting until we get off the western edge.” Sab was short and dark skinned. He was also skinny with a malformed right arm. But it didn’t seem to hinder him any. He could do most anything with his “goofy arm” as he called it, and whatever he couldn’t, he made up for with his incredibly strong left arm. The right arm now carried a datapad which he slid into the receiver on the command console to copy the data from the trip.

Lin checked the radio contact with palmer before their departure. “Loud and clear,” he said.

“Copy. Everything checks out. Undocking now.” Palmer said.

Fenista went back to the prep room to say good night to Wilson and Sab. “Yeh, I can’t wait to hit the sack,” Wilson said. “But we’ve got that hell-walk back to the hab. Those beds are so close, yet so far away.” Now fully suited up, Wilson picked up the sample container and moved with Sab to the airlock.

As they cycled through the airlock, Lin went to the radio,  called the hab and reported that Wilson and Sab were on their way and recorded the time.

“Recording things,” Lin said. “Lots and lots of recording mundane things. That’s what scientists and explorers do.”

“That’s what makes up cool,” Fenista said. They both laughed and then Lin pulled a beer out of his pack and gave it to Fenista.

“How many of these do we have left?” she asked.

“I have about 6 left in my stash.”

“Same,” she replied.

“What do we bet with when those are gone?”

She shrugged. “It’s going to be a long Winter.”

Star Liner