Innu-Akku

Gorynychus

"Beyond belief," - an old Earth proverb came to mind in response to the request from the station. Exhausted and weary from the search, Esma felt her brain and mechanical body connecting worse as the signal in the mountains weakened. Even simple movements became unpredictable due to delays, and an unplanned break had to be taken while waiting for new data. Thoughts also flowed slowly, intertwining into complete nonsense. Esma lifted her massive animal-like head to the sky and sparkled with eyes, hearing not only her own thoughts but also those of the rest of the crew. During the calibration, another clumsy association with provincial towns of the past and the Government Inspector's on atomic "wagons" flashed through her mind. Another saying reminded her of her half-human, half-titan friend and her attempt to distract her on the last day before the mission. Elem-19 was drastically different from what she was used to: A tiny exoplanet with what seemed like a vast single continent, surrounded by an endless black sea. The world seemed more and more like the mouth of a predator in Esma's eyes. The sharp peaks of rocks looked exactly like fangs, the gloomy sky like congealed blood, and the lichen-covered mist creeping through the lowlands like heavy breathing.
"Have people here really managed to clean everything up so badly?" — a new question arose on its own. And the next one, already from the analyst:
"Then who could have sent an SOS signal from here at all?"
The timer beeped, notifying that there was very little time left for searching (let alone for contemplation). In the distance, something rumbled, reminding Esma of explosions during the liquidation of one of the fatal accidents. Once again, the cries of the commanders could be heard, mixed with the heartbreaking wails of those buried under the rubble. The memories of this were almost physically painful, causing a grimace. The first task was not on Mars. This accident... It literally divided Esma's worldview into "before" and "after." Unwelcome associations came rushing in. The Titan factory was just as far away as that damn Elem's settlement! And the wind was almost as nasty in my ears.
The mechanical body felt different, as if it were pulling huge weights down with all four paws. The head was spinning; as if overloaded from the centrifuge. The stomach was burning with fire.
The descent without the use of shuttles was felt.
Relief came only with the release of the straps, signaling the imminent contact with the surface.
A somersault in the air and the body was thrown into the very epicenter of the disaster.
The high and massive building engulfed in fire continued to collapse, complicating the work.
Unfortunately, there were not enough reagents for extinguishing, and the drone dome had not been erected in time.
"Watch out!" - shouted Esma to her partner, noticing the threat. Climbing over the pile of debris, the Martian saw a huge iron beam with a grating screech suddenly plummeting down, lifting a column of dark dust.
Jumping in opposite directions, the rescuers momentarily disappeared in the suffocating cloud.
A terrifying silence followed, through which only the dull rumbling of rocks could be heard. But for the Martian, who had seen storms and worse, this was new, allowing her to quickly orient herself.
The situation was at an impasse: the heavy gorgonopsid' paws were mercilessly sliding, threatening to drift towards the methane lake, even in the absence of any wind. Only the metal claws, clinging to the wreckage and the ground, slowed them down. Memories of the first training sessions came to mind, when all four paws were spreading out, and the technique suggested by an experienced trainer.
"Polarity! On the count of three," - Esma commanded her companion, calculating the drift trajectory.
"One," - the tail helped not to lose control.
"Two," - a slight acceleration helped to approach faster.
"Three!" - With an impulse from the engines in their paws, both pushed off from each other like from a support.
In a moment, Esma, as well as her companion, burst through the smoke with a savage roar, speeding towards the pile and being driven by the weak gravity.
A new rumble was heard, unlike the sound of clearing debris by the machines or the drill.
Something nearby detonated.
A cascade of explosions followed. Clouds of smoke and tongues of flame stretched out.
Another tank of processed fuel exploded - the rescuers realized they couldn't delay any longer!
"How much longer will they keep roaring?" - Esma complained fervently, making her way almost blindly through the smoke to the designated place.- "Where are your screens and chemistry?"
Only when the place was finally sealed off and the smoke cleared, giving way to a repugnant and nauseating stench, did the rescuers see the horrific scene of mangled and torn bodies of the workers lying among the ice, debris, and gravel...
The drills hummed again, and the carabiners clicked once more.
After checking, the rescuers dived into a deep tunnel.
The unpleasant hissing sound was heard in their ears again, and white lights of beacons fluttered before their eyes.
"Survivors?" - the commander clarified, when Esma and her partner slipped into the bunker.
"Fifty."
"Take them out! Full screening! Ten minutes!"
The titan partner immediately trembled, took on a human form and began disconnecting the jars, switching them to emergency systems at the bottoms.
As a doctor, Esma listened to the complaints through the transmitters, simultaneously releasing the transport-protection module from her body.
Almost all the workers prayed for light, describing their state as a deep, all-consuming, and viscous darkness.
"What's wrong? I can't transmit signals to myself!" - Esma turned to her partner.
"The protection protocols are old," - the titan explained. - "Without personal transmitters, everything is being blocked."
"What the..." - Esma didn't have time to get upset before a new rumble echoed, and the reinforced walls of the bunker trembled. The steel supports also creaked, threatening to bend.
It became clear that the sealing provided by the station was not holding up. New cascades of explosions posed a serious danger to the rescuers, not just the workers.
Through cracks starting to appear in the ceiling, small debris and concrete dust were falling, warning - get out before you get buried, brave ones. We had to hurry. Ignoring the shaking and barely audible rustling in the dug tunnel, my partner loaded the vials into Esma's body - the module was useless, only slowing us down. The canpic jar with the heavy brains weren't that heavy, especially compared to the multi-ton body of the gorgonops.
We barely managed to escape the collapse thanks to the repulsors in our hands and the magnetic straps that pulled us out at the very last moment.
As soon as the rescuers left the tunnel, the protective screen turned off. New explosions roared, burying the tunnel in rubble.
As Esma soared upwards, she bitterly observed how the reagents clearly outlined the boundary of the fire and future disputes.
The sky darkened again, shrouded in smoke, scattered in the heights by strong winds and the medical shuttle's thrust.
It all started from that damn accident at the helium-3 processing complex!
Coming to her senses and reflecting, Esma concluded that if it wasn't for the fear of being abandoned on Mars and Titan in case of danger and without the possibility of returning to Earth, if Earth didn't suppress rebellions on Titan with their forces and intimidation, there would have been no flight to the long-forgotten Elem-19.
"They won't even receive signals quickly! How long will they fly? Or do they think that because we rejected the bodies and became bootlegs, we can handle all the disasters ourselves?" — was heard again and again with new force. Fears gave rise to a multitude of rumors, driving crowds to rallies, protests, and strikes. Especially on Titan, where bootlegs and familiars - bodies for brains in canpic-cans - were almost in the overwhelming majority. And if the resource-dependent Titan, once known as the most severe penal colony, rebelled, then what can be said about the calm, self-sufficient, and, most importantly, free Mars with all its industries?
The Enclave's worry had been brewing for a long time. Ever since neuroplatforms and photon transmitters appeared, capable of linking the brain and a synthetic body over vast distances in place of artificial intelligence. This technology marked the beginning of the colonization of the nearest planets. And it divided society into puritans, bootlegs, and familiars. Since those seemingly distant times, human life has been devalued. It devolved to the level of a commodity, bought and sold to serve the space industry. Anyone could submit a genetic sample in exchange for lifelong support, housing, and other benefits. The payment was huge, and the destination of the sample was a concern for very few when faced with a simple and comfortable life. In the early days of colonization, the technology was even used as a sophisticated punishment.
Add to this the differences in newly formed extraterrestrial cultures and it becomes clear that this powder keg is capable of exploding at the slightest spark.
Esma, being a bootleg, understood the concerns perfectly. Hardly anyone wanted to admit that the rejection of the body, known as "death cycle" in the public, de facto provided no advantages. And the worry for her native Martian prefecture, Nir'ra, forced her to agree to the controversial mission.
Suddenly, next to the date "05.15.2960", settlement coordinates flashed. It turned out that it was placed not just in the mountains, but on a plateau, with several suns in the sky. Plotting her route, Esma continued her ascent, avoiding questionable trails and trying not to fall down. The last thing she wanted right now was to end up like Sisyphus...
The mechanical body, while familiar, lacked maneuverability. However, the "gorgonopsid" were not classified as military equipment for no reason. Massive, heavy, powerful - they were ideal for clearing debris or evacuating the injured. But on rough terrain, their bodies lost almost all of their advantages. Esma justified her choice perhaps out of habit and with a nervous chuckle, thinking that four legs were more stable than two.
Soon, the contours of a dome flashed among the rocks. It looked like a diamond in a blackened ring, fascinating. It seemed as though all the power of past technologies was concentrated in this dim light!
At a command, the body trembled, dispersing in streaks resembling dust. The clumsy gorgonopsid had no further way to go. After a few seconds, a female body in a brown spacesuit emerged from the animal skin, like a matryoshka. Lean and flexible, as if woven. The mark of Mars - Earthlings and Titans jeered. Habit - the Martian always shrugged, reminding that physics pulls the psyche along and one cannot stray far from home.
"Well, thanks for the 'soft' and 'close' landing!" - Esma angrily sent to the station. "You will be held accountable to the Enclave for the loss of equipment yourselves!"
"Good luck, Min'aas!" - the team's well-wishing lit up, ignoring the outburst.
Initially, Esma really wanted to be snide, like, "You're messing around in your canops, and I have to clean up all of this." But she restrained herself, slightly cooled by the unfamiliar Martian's association of the body as "Gorynychus." She remembered a friend who once told her a story about a dragon with three heads from Slavic folklore. The mechanical gorgonops had only one head, but it contained three minds. And the laser cutters could pass for breathing fire, and the station in the sky for wings for flight.
Smiling at her thoughts, carefully checking her equipment and medicines, finding a suitable laser for opening and penetration, the rescuer still answered her unfortunate comrades:
"We're already in this shit sandwich. Luck is definitely not on our side!"
The mission to search for survivors had begun.