Once the storm lifted and cleanup was over, work resumed. Within six weeks of the second-season team’s arrival, the tilapia reached fingerling stage and were transferred to nursery tanks. The peas and beans Bill brought had germinated and were growing in the hydroponics. And that’s when the dehydrator broke again. Two days after it broke, Kira met with the Field Producer to make a case for repair or replacement. “Staci, before you came, I asked for parts for that dehydrator. Imagine my shock when there was nothing on the manifest.
Staci looked puzzled. “What did you ask for?”
Kira was incredulous, “You don’t know?”
“I was hired not very long before we left Earth. I recall seeing a manifest before departure, but no one mentioned a machinery problem. Whom did you ask?”
“I told the Story Editor first, Sampson Riley. He referred me to the Executive Producer.”
“Ah, you mean Ralph Gunderson.”
“Right.”
“And what did Ralph do?”
“He said he’d review the budget and get back to me.”
Staci nodded. “Budget, right. That’s what he does. So…"
Kira let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, he didn’t. Guess I should have known that was a problem, but we were scrambling and had other things on our minds.”
Staci’s frown showed genuine concern. “What can I help with?”
“Got any juice with Gunderson?”
Staci’s face was blank. “Not really.”
“Well, I hope you can get some. Let me put it this way. We have… we had two ways to get more water. One is brine pulled from underground by injecting hot water. The other is baking gypsum. It looks like whitish rock, but an eighth of its weight is water we can drive out by heating.”
“Okay, got it.”
“The machine that crushes the deposits so we can do that has a cracked blade. It won’t work. We don’t have a way to repair or replace a cracked blade. Now, what do you suppose happens to us if the electrolyzer breaks, or the pumps fail, and we can’t pull more brine?”
“Oh, crap!”
“That’s right. No more water. No more oxygen! No more jobs. No more show. We light the Candle and go home with our tails between our legs. Investment abandoned, game over. And we can’t get a spare now for months.”
Kira called a meeting of costars the following day. “Siggy and Antwon will start with an assessment of our water systems.”Staci interjected, “Excuse me. Are we going to record this for scene building?”
Kira erupted. “God, no! We can redo this later with a script, if you want, but this is our future we’re discussing. I want unvarnished facts and opinions. Siggy?”“We confirmed the dehydrator has a cracked blade, maybe from embrittlement at low temperature. We have some high-strength glue we can try for a weld, but I suspect it will fail before long. Other than that, we don’t have a way to revive it. If we try to use it as is, a blade might crack or even shatter. You can’t bake gypsum without first crushing it. So that leaves subsurface brine. As long as we can pump it, we can make drinking water and oxygen. The hot-water injection and brine recovery pumps are running well, but I’m nervous about depending on a single source. Mars has a knack for making fools out of overconfident visitors.”
Kira nodded. “Maybe dead fools! Spooks me, too. And we get further from Earth every day, so replacement will take the better part of a year. Meanwhile, our butts are on the line. Whatever is decided, we do it together. Let's discuss three alternatives. The first: cross our fingers and carry on. We wait for season three to get more equipment. The second: pull the plug - exercise the escape clauses in our contracts and light the Candle. The third is to become settlers and try to solve our own problems. I welcome your input.”
Staci spoke first, “Medically speaking, option three sounds like suicide. Sure, we can sit in the centrifuge every day, but that only slows the effects of low gravity. It doesn’t stop it. Our bodies will deteriorate - bad idea. Besides, we’d get no more support from RP, and hell, they might even sue us - breach of contract or something.
Antwon said, “They’d sic a lawyer on us? How can they collect if we never come back?”
Bob Duprey raised a hand. “I concur with Staci. Aside from equipment considerations, if we try to stay indefinitely, at least with the current level of infrastructure and population, I think we would all go nuts. To conserve resources and avoid radiation, we spend more time cooped up in tight spaces than any professional would describe as healthy. And this is so different from what humans evolved with. Imagine a lifetime with no animals except tilapia, little greenery, and limited recreational opportunities. We’re also missing things you can’t see, like constant exposure to low-frequency electromagnetic fields. It’s called Schumann resonances. Anything living on Earth is swimming in them its entire life. Research on the effects of living without it is limited, but it’s shown alterations to circadian rhythm and melatonin production. I’m not eager to become a guinea pig - If option three is the choice, I would personally exercise my escape clause.”
Kira sighed. “Right. I expected answers like that. I wanted to hear them, if only for completeness. I’m mad as hell, but I don’t want to spend my life here out of spite. How does everyone feel about option two, going home?”
Facial expressions ranged from glum to vacant. Bill Mackenzie stared ahead with his arms folded. “I came here to accomplish something important. I’m not ready to quit.” He turned to his friend and former commanding officer. “Sorry, Siggy. You can’t scare me away that easily.”
Siggy laughed. “Now that’s the Bill I know. Kira and I want to go home and start a family after this season ends. Giving up half my equity in this venture by invoking the escape clause doesn’t fit into our plans. Count us in, too.”
Bob spoke, “Despite what I said earlier, I don’t have a problem with finishing a season, maybe even two. I vote for option one.”
“Likewise,” said Staci.
Kira smiled and nodded. “Antwon?”
“I’m in,” he said.
“Okay, Option one it is - we carry on.”