Chapter 22
Foreman had been relieved to unburden himself to Mitchum. They agreed not to say anything to the others until Mitchum thought things through. He made one thing clear to Foreman, however. The Moonstruck was an unarmed vessel. It was a drilling operation, not a battle ship, plain and simple. Should anyone with a battle ship decide to invade Mars, their chance of survival was close to zero. Mitchum decided on two courses of action. To continue with the drilling and to try to establish contact with Earth, hopefully to arrange some protection, as soon as possible.
Foreman was agreeable to all that, but said he wouldn't be comfortable keeping things secret too long. He felt the others should be prepared, so that they could at least go down fighting. Mitchum said to give it one full day of trying to reach Earth, then either way, the others would be told.
Mitchum took Foreman back to the base, then set off to join the others at the driller. In the base, Monkley was carrying the clean laundry to the bedrooms. Foreman gave him a hand making the beds.
'It's official, pal. It was murder. Mitchum agrees with me.'
'Oooh!'
'Exactly.'
With the beds made up, they went to the communications room and Monkley turned on the radio before Foreman had even sat down.
'Show off. Right. Here we go again. This is Foreman. Andrew Foreman. I am calling Earth from Mars. Anyone there?' He waited a few minutes and repeated. He kept repeating for the next three hours. Several of Monkley's coffee's later, all he had heard was static. 'Not looking good, pal. But I tell you something for nothing. If some son of a bitch is coming here to finish me off, I'm not going quietly.'
Even as he said it, the words echoed in his mind like an empty promise, which without weapons of any kind, it undoubtedly was. The sight of the silent radio depressed him, and he had to get out of there.
When the crew returned from another hard day drilling, their mood seemed subdued. Foreman wondered if Mitchum had changed his mind and told them. He wouldn't have blamed him if he had. It was going to happen soon, anyway. The team were generally quiet during the evening meal.
'Everything okay, you guys?' Foreman asked, with a questioning look at Mitchum.
'Just been a tough day,' Mitchum assured him. 'We lost a drill tip.'
'These things happen,' snapped Debbie Warner. 'I can't be responsible for the unexpected lump of iron.'
'I never said you could, Debbie,' said Mitchum.
'I know you're thinking it, though.'
'I'm disappointed, that's all.'
'You'll have more than one tip though, surely?' said Foreman.
'Yes,' said Mitchum. 'That's not the issue. The cost of one of those tips is well...let's just say a lot. The trouble is, the tip actually jammed and snapped off. That means, once we attach a new tip, we have to start a new bore hole. If we use the same hole, we hit the diamond tip lodged in the hole, we lose another tip. The only alternative is to start all over again in another spot. Which means everything we have done up until now, was a waste of time.'
'I see. But you couldn't have known about the iron lump, Debbie.'
Debbie shrugged. 'On Earth, we know what we are dealing with. Hardly any surprises. Mars is still an unknown entity. Our equipment only tells us what's down there up to a certain depth, and the amount of iron in the dirt tends to mask the signals, especially at any depth. Basically, we are drilling blind.'
'These things happen,' said Foreman, trying to be positive. It didn't have much affect on the crew. 'Just a suggestion. Have tomorrow off. Rest up a day and tackle it fresh.'
Mitchum laughed. 'Spoken like a true veterinarian. Sorry, Andy. But have you any idea about time clauses and penalties? For every day we are behind schedule, we lose bonus money. Too much delay and we make nothing. The Moonstruck belongs to the I S F, but we are contractors. The money looks very good on paper, but they have us over a barrel if we don't deliver.'
'I know what you said about insurance, Mike, but I'm more than willing to getstuck in with you if I can be of use.'
Mitchum shook his head and sipped the wine. 'We couldn't possibly risk it, Andy. Thanks all the same. If anything happened to you, I'd lose my licence, and I'd never work in the industry again. Thanks anyway.'
Susan got up. Even her beauty was faded by the weariness she felt. 'I'm too shattered to even shower. I'll be on my own tonight, Andy.'
'I understand,' said Foreman, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
With all the available beds taken up, and Susan sleeping in Foreman's room alone, Foreman had no choice but to utilise the sickbay bed. He lay awake in the dark sickbay, missing Susan's warm body next to his. His mood was as dark as the room, and his mind filled with the danger they were in. That Mitchum had continued his operation after learning of the imminent danger from an unknown enemy, concerned about bonuses from a federation that could possibly have been destroyed, was a testimony to his work ethic and faith that they would live to claim their well deserved rewards. If they were going to be fighting for their lives, unarmed and probably outnumbered, he could think of no team of people he would rather face death with. With that sombre thought running through his head, he fell into a fitful and unsatisfying sleep.