Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,36
if to say to whatever god or gods might be listening, “Check it out. Not too shabby for mere humans, eh?”
Sarah, what are the dimensions of the Pallah dome?
The response came back immediately. Fifteen kilometers in diameter. One-point-two kilometers high at its apex. Estimated population of two-point-six million.
I shook my head at the thought of all those people. The larger habitats boasted populations in the tens of thousands, and in very rare cases approached a hundred thousand people. And there were more than twenty-five times as many souls as that within Pallah. And Pallah was only one of hundreds of domes peppering the surface of Mars. They had more space per person than anyone accustomed to ship or hab life, but what must it be like to know that you would never—could never—meet the vast majority of the people who shared air with you? Earth was worse of course. The planetary population stretched into the tens of billions, but despite all of man’s efforts, humanity’s homeworld still provided a breathable atmosphere, vast reservoirs of clean, drinkable water, and a natural bounty of foodstuffs that put the best hydroponics gardens to shame. Her cities stretched not for tens of kilometers, but for hundreds of them, growing across the surface of the planet in an ever-expanding, and ever-connecting, web of urban sprawl.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Chan asked softly, stepping to my shoulder and staring into the viewscreen as we continued our descent.
The voice may not have been hers, but the sound and even the smell of her were distinctly… her. That was comforting, somehow.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “It is. Scary, too, though.”
“Scared?” she scoffed. “You? I saw what you did on that shuttle, Carter.”
“Not me. That was a branch. I was sitting in the archives somewhere when that guy was dealing with the zombie coil.” Remembering the video sent a shiver down my spine, and it took an effort of will to suppress the involuntary shudder.
“Maybe,” Chan said. “But you’re still that person, at least right up to the moment of backup. I don’t think whatever happened to your branch between backup and that moment was what gave him the courage to face… whatever it was that happened aboard that ship. And it certainly wasn’t what gave him the courage to go over there in the first place.” She did shudder, then. “I don’t think I could do that, especially after the airlock.” She rested one hand on my arm, a gesture she had done countless times in the past.
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “So, what do you think we’re going to find at Copeland’s apartment?”
Chan must have sensed my unease. She was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know, Langston. I found records on Copeland, so whatever was done to Miller—and whatever they might have tried to do to you, me, and Harper—it looks like they didn’t do to Copeland. I’m hoping we’ll find Copeland himself. His branch, I guess.”
I grunted. It made sense, but if the branching Copeland had been backed up before whatever had put him on that shuttle, then how much use could he possibly be to us? He wouldn’t remember anything that happened before his recoiling and having a pair of strangers show up and demand to know why he had locked himself in an airlock didn’t seem like a scenario designed to yield the best results. But what else could we do? Malcolm Copeland was our only lead, the only bit of meaningful data we’d been able to tease from a dozen-plus hours of footage. He had to know something. If he didn’t, then Chan and I were going to have to resolve ourselves to a life—probably a very short one—of dodging would-be assassins and hackers intent on eliminating not just our coils, but our very existence.
* * *
We were directed to take our seats for the final approach to Pallah. Given the relative thinness of the Martian atmosphere, and the greatly reduced gravity, it seemed like an unnecessary precaution, but I dutifully strapped in. The shuttle touched down with barely a jolt, and a Net window opened broadcasting a pre-recorded video on the off-boarding procedures. I muted and minimized it, unbuckling and gathering my few possessions as Chan did the same.
A long docking tube extended from the dome to the landing pad, sealing in place over the door as the passengers began forming a queue. I heard the sound of pumps coming on—faint, but when you spent a large part of your life EVA,