Marcus had done his best to put the decision off, but she was becoming more insistent. The honest truth was that the decision wasn’t his to make, though; the Shackleton wasn’t his ship. And even though he was now a permanent resident aboard Legacy, he doubted the rest of the crew were so enthusiastic about the idea. Dismantling the Shackleton would mean total commitment, and there could be no turning back.
“Alright, I’ll ask him,” Marcus said. He closed his eyes, looked around for Faulkland’s position, and received a picture of the Commander seated in one of the recreation facilities. They were like indoor parks, complete with simulated sun, wind and sky, and the crew had become enamored with them. The ship was also working on artificial grass, and by all reports was getting damned good at it.
Marcus spoke, and the ship echoed his voice at the Commander’s location. “Donovan to Faulkland, please meet me in the Shackleton’s docking bay.”
Then he leaned over the railing and waited, watching the constructor rings’ arms gingerly probe the Shackleton’s surface. Less than a minute later he heard the whoosh of the transit tube, followed by the dull clack of Faulkland’s boots on the hard floor.
“What’s on your mind, Marc?”
Faulkland was a straight shooter, and Marcus figured it best to come straight out. “She wants to dismantle the Shackleton.”
“Hell no.”
“Fair enough. I told her you’d say that, but she still wanted me to ask. She wants to improve how she interacts with us, and she thinks the most direct way would be to tear the Shackleton down and replicate its interfaces.”
Faulkland leaned over the railing next to Marcus, and he too watched the small insectoid arms examine his ship’s hull. “Do you know how long I had to waited to get my own explorer? I ran freight to the moon and back for ten years, Marc, then Mars for another three just to get my name on the list. This ship’s the only thing I ever wanted.”
“I know,” Marcus said, “and she’s a beauty. Best we ever built.”
“Don’t exaggerate. Seed I… now that was a piece of work. Brought a whole dang colony to Mars. I know it only had to do its job once, but man I woulda liked to be there to see it. Still amazed that it worked at all.”
“You and me both. How about the best I ever built then?”
Faulkland laughed. “See, that’s just it, Doc. The Shackleton’s just another project to you, another toy for you to fix, wind-up and send along its merry way. You don’t understand that she’s my ship. She’s my purpose.”
For the first time in his life, Marcus was in a place to understand what that meant. He had no intention of moving on ever again, because he’d found his purpose and he was ready to spend the rest of his life aboard her. “This may surprise you, Commander, but I get it. I’m understanding it better every day.”
Legacy understood, too. She considered the bond between ship and crew to be sacred. A crew was her purpose, her reason for being. A way to solve both of their problems occurred to her, and she passed it along to Marcus.
“She’s wants to offer you something in return,” Marcus said.
“I can’t imagine what would make me change my mind.”
Marcus turned towards him with an earnest look in his eyes. “How about a new a ship?”
“Come again?”
A number of faint memories flew through Marcus’ head, different ships of different types. “Once Legacy has adapted her systems for our use, she’s promised to build you a new Eireki cruiser. No more primitive fission reactor or spinner section. We’re talking about a hollow-drive powered, trans-atmospheric living ship with artificial gravity, able to make the trip from Earth to Mars in eight minutes flat.”
Faulkland was silent for a long time while he looked at his ship and considered. “Eight minutes to Mars?” he asked.
“Eight minutes.”
He turned to Marcus and motioned to his own temple. “I don’t need one of those things, do I?”
The neural interface on Marcus’ head had grown during the two months since it was attached, and the sight of it still disturbed the crew. He could hardly blame them. “No neural interface. That’s the point of pulling the Shackleton apart, right?”
“Good. I want to bond with a ship, but I don’t really want to ‘bond’ with a ship, if you catch my drift. I don’t need anyone else in my head.”
“So that’s a yes?” Marcus asked with a tentative smile.
“Yeah… just do it before I change my mind. I get input on the new ship’s design, too.”
“Of course,” Marcus said. “She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Faulkland tapped his comm headset. “Faulkland to Enqvist, are you aboard the Shackleton?”
Marcus heard the transmission echo through his interface. “Yes, sir,” Enqvist said.
“Shut the reactor down, and then join us on Legacy.”
“Sir?”
“We’re scuttling the ship.”
“Roger. Does the big beast know how to deal with a hot reactor, sir?”
Faulkland looked to Marcus who nodded.
“Donovan claims she does. I’m inclined to believe him.”
“Aye aye, sir. Inserting control rods now. I’ll be out in five. Over and out.”
The Shackleton’s running lights went out and true to his word, Enqvist came out four-and-a-half minutes later. He waved up at the platform, and the constructor rings’ arms immediately began pulling the ship apart and examining each component. Faulkland grimaced, but didn’t look away. “It’s like watching a spider eat a fly.”
Legacy checked Marcus’ memory for images of spiders and was slightly offended at the comparison. Marcus didn’t feel the need to pass that along.
Both men watched the carnage for several moments more, until an incoming message interrupted them. “Shen to Faulkland and Donovan. We’ve just received a priority encrypted transmission from Ares Colony with your names on it.”
“On our way,” Faulkland said. He continued to watch his ship’s destruction for another second, then they both headed for the tube and left for the bridge. The trip took them from the factory to the primary hull and more than another kilometer to the bridge, all within thirty seconds, after which they were lowered down to the landing pad on the other side.
Faulkland marched double-time to Mason’s station down on the second tier, while Marcus used the gravity systems to fly there directly. This new trick left a look of surprise on everyone’s face.
“The transmission came straight from the office of the Colony Administrator, and requires both your biometric keys to decode. It’s pretty big. Would you like it transferred to private quarters, sirs?”
“No need,” Faulkland said, and placed his right hand on a lit pad where its measurements were scanned and converted into a decryption key. When he finished, Marcus did the same. A progress bar crawled across Mason’s monitor, and then flashed to say it had finished.
“The archive contains two separate files: a brief message from Ares and another larger file labeled… Radio Free Copernicus?”
Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “Play the message from Ares,” he said.
The screen went black and then showed Administrator Saladin, the greying but still potent head of Ares Colony, seated at his desk. The Great Seal of Mars was behind him, the Roman god of war posed triumphantly atop a caricature of Olympus Mons, motioning across the barren Martian plains. The administrator straightened his shirt and received a cue from someone off screen, then began. “This is a priority transmission to the heads of the Shackleton Expedition. As you’re aware, Earth has been silent for the past seventy-four days, and we’ve been monitoring the situation with cautious optimism. Today, we received and decoded a transmission that, if true, surpasses even our greatest fears.