Part Two – Mars
1
Years earlier.
It was all going to be so magnificent. Mankind's coming of age, reaching out into the stars.
The Rockwell Administration had big ideas for the future of the Human Race.
Gerald Rockwell, President of the biggest corporation ever to exist, humanist, conjurer, entrepreneur, ruthless genius, man of the people. And the man who, to all practical purposes, ruled the Earth. His entire life was leading to this, the culmination of his plan to save the world from itself. Over four decades of pitiless and cunning business, stockpiling profit upon profit, endless equipment purchases, enormous tracts of land, hundreds of loyal men and women with a shared view. Over four decades of weaving his way into the hearts and minds of the people of Earth, for he would need their support if this was ever to succeed.
And so he sold his soul to save his people. Countries were taken over, tyrants destroyed, famine relieved. Pollution reduced. The world was healing. It seemed he'd had all the angles covered from the start, the boy genius who was a millionaire long before his eighteenth birthday. A contingency plan worked out for all instances. Eighty-five assassination attempts foiled.
Until at last, the Rockwell Administration had the rulers in their pocket, the backing of the people, and the funds of half a planet. And the next step, now that the world was healthy, was a new home for the future.
The plans had been drawn for years. Now was the time to put them into action. The world was ready to look outside of itself.
And so mankind went to Mars.
The first offensive would be entirely automated, a freighter of robots that would construct giant orbiting mirror-satellites directing sunlight toward solar panels on the ground. Turbines and essential recycling machinery would be built next to a biosphere dome, wherein flora would be planted to create oxygen in advance of the second two freighters, the manned freighters. Technicians and scientists, multi-skilled people trained to build the first Martian colony and set terra-forming into full motion. It would be a one-way trip, their ships being recycled to build their new home. Years of top psychiatric evaluation had refined five thousand of the chosen to two hundred and fifty perfect choices.
They were to be the forefathers of the new world, with many colonists to follow over the next hundred years and far into the future.
The colony would be built on the equator, to maximise efficiency in the use of light and heat for power, and also to make the place more habitable for humans. Elsewhere on Mars it was far too cold to survive.
Bacteria seeded into the atmosphere would create methane, and this, coupled with the Martian winds, could also be used for power.
But as the automated project unfolded over the years, it became apparent that the seeding of the sky with oxygen and hydrogen to reduce the 95 per cent carbon dioxide atmosphere had failed to give the desired result. The air transformed into mostly carbon monoxide, and the majority of the oxygen and hydrogen rose to form clouds. Electrical storms were commonplace, the winds turned deadly in the heavier atmosphere, whereas previously, the thin air would whip around at the same speed, but without strength.
The manned missions went ahead as planned, but Gerald Rockwell, now a very old man, would not live to see his dream fulfilled.
Which was just as well for Gerald, because the way his project crumbled into dust would have dismayed him beyond endurance.
Mars was a cold, grey, dangerous, lonely place to be, and by the time it became apparent that colonisation was perhaps impossible, it was too late for the men and women already there.
When they entered the atmosphere they would find that although there was water on Mars, not only frozen at the poles and at times in the valleys and fissures, most of it was in the still unbreathable atmosphere, and when it fell, it fell with high acidic content. This meant regular expeditions to the valleys for new water, and recycling as much of it as they could.
Future plans were abandoned, but it was agreed by the chief executives of the Rockwell Administration that supplies would be sent regularly to Mars. After all, the reputation of the late Gerald Rockwell had to remain spotless. The colonists could not be seen to be left to die. If the Administration was to remain in power they must be seen to do no wrong.
In less than fifty years, Mars would be lifeless again, the corpses of the colonists turning to stone, the colony falling into ruin. And then the supplies could be stopped. Maybe future generations of the human race would try again.
But for now, the money saved on the Mars project could be pumped into alternative energies on Earth, and the Rockwell Administration would once again be seen as saviours of the Earth, the legacy of the great Gerald Rockwell assuring his place amongst the greats.
2
Elena Yoshino looked out through the rain-strewn window of the taxi and thought to herself, this is the last time I'm ever going to see the fields.
The grey clouds seemed ominous as they hung above the gently rolling countryside of the North Midlands, throwing down their rain onto the green fields and trees of spring.
She sighed and traced a rivulet of rain-water with her finger as it ran down the pane of glass. She was glad that it wasn't sunny. Wouldn't seem right, somehow, if the sun came out on this, her final journey on planet Earth.
In twenty-five minutes she would be at Hawking spaceport, joining thirty-six other pioneers who would be blasting up to the orbiting space station Hope's Dream. There, they would join the other hundred and fifty or so who would be on the first freighter sent off to colonise Mars, the New World.
And they would all be hurtled into space, never to return.
Years of training and psychological examination had prepared her for the journey, but still Elena felt she had mixed feelings.
Looking at this rain-drenched, deep-green countryside whizzing by, even at the dirty rain hitting the taxi window, even at the window itself, she thought maybe this was wrong. There was so much life here, and none whatsoever where she was heading.
But this was what she had wanted for years. All her life. Ever since reading those totally fictional and unrealistic science fiction stories from the twentieth century as a kid. She knew the stories weren't real, she knew how dead and remote the planet Mars was, and yet she had craved this journey all her life. While her friends were looking forward to marrying and raising families, Elena Yoshino had dreamed of science, of walking the empty deserts of an alien world.
Why have children? Weren't there already too many people on this planet? Ever since the late twentieth century, the western world had been obsessed with carbon footprints. But what bigger cause of carbon footprint could there be than bringing more people into the world? Mankind, the bane of planet Earth.
The planet would be so much better off without us, she thought.
But Mars. Mars was different. It was dead and had never been alive. In such a place, mankind could only do good, bringing life to a barren rock.
Terra-forming was already under way. The seeds had been sown into the atmosphere, the bio-domes had been constructed and plant-life was even now transforming the atmosphere. In a few short decades the planet Mars would be fruitful and able to sustain human life.
This would be mankind's second chance.
The Rockwell Administration had made this possible.
Yes, it was right that she should go.
There had, of course, been many dissenters. There were those who rallied against the terra-forming of the red planet. Those who said it should be left alone. There had been the United Nations charter, but that had been drawn up in the previous century, when giant corporations ruled the world and fought between themselves for prominence. Gerald Rockwell had put an end to all that.
Now Mars would not be cut up piece by piece, there would be no military installations. There would be no mining for minerals. The planet would become a new home for man, and Elena was to be a part of its creation.
She smiled and rested her forehead against the gently vibrating
glass of the taxi door as it sped along the motorway.
She watched the countryside roll by.
3
The g-force was something he could never get used to, not even on this, his fifth trip into orbit.
Frank Jacobs felt nauseous as he left the shuttle through the zero-gravity airlock and had to keep swallowing to calm his insides.
Once through the airlock and into the space station, his stomach settled, and he took off his helmet. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he breathed deeply. The air was strangely sweet and cool.
This was his first time aboard Hope's Dream, his other four space trips were all training exercises.
Captain Byatt and his officers were there to welcome aboard all the crew of the shuttle.
Frank took off his glove and shook hands with the Captain. He felt unsteady in the artificial gravity created by the station as it span in its orbit.
The captain was saying something that Frank couldn't hear. “I'm sorry, captain,” he said. “My ears are ringing.”
“No need for apologies,” the Captain beamed. “It is an honour to meet the esteemed crew that will pioneer mankind's next great adventure.” Frank couldn't help but think this speech had been repeated dozens of times. The Captain went on. “The first freighter, which I believe you are on, will be launched in thirteen hours time. So feel free to avail yourself of all the facilities Hope's Dream has to offer. My liaison officer, Mr. Montefiore, will show you to your quarters. There will be a banquet in two hours time in the main hall, which I trust you will wish to attend.” This last, he spoke louder, so that everyone already aboard from the shuttle could hear. He wouldn't be wanting to repeat that lot to each individual as he greeted them.
Frank shook hands with a short, dashing-looking chap with black moustache and giant teeth.
“Greetings, Senor,” he said. If you will follow me, your luggage will be sent to your room at once.” He led the way as Frank and several others from his shuttle followed. “I must say, I am a little envious of you all. To be travelling to the red planet, ah. But then, I never had the pioneering spirit. I love my home too much. And you, my friends, the European contingent of the mission. It makes my heart proud!” He slammed his fist to his chest. “When you have settled, and before the banquet, please join me at the officer's bar. I wish to buy each and every one of you a drink.”
The little group reached a small corridor and the liaison officer handed out card-keys. “here are your rooms. Rest yourselves. Refresh!” and with a toothy smile, Mr. Montefiore left them.
Frank went into his room and shut the door behind him. He let out a deep breath. He could do with a drink now. Searching cupboards, he found the mini-bar, and opened a small bottle of whisky. He didn't bother to pour, he drank it straight from the bottle, and there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he called, and a steward brought in his cases. “Thanks,” he said, and when the man went, he flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“It's on,” he said to himself. “The great adventure. Jesus.”
He reached over a pushed the release button for the view-port blind. It disappeared into the wall and Frank could see the stars from where he lay, turning in a circle as the station rotated. He recognised the constellation of Orion and then the Moon fell into view, bright and clear as it reflected the sunlight from its surface.
Frank sat up straight, realising that this was the side of the moon that couldn't be seen from Earth.
He gazed at the unfamiliar crater patterns, and then Earth dropped into view.
His guts turned upside down, his heart leaped uncontrollably at the sight of his homeworld. He let out a gasp, and he knew that this was it. This was the last time he would see the Earth. He stared dumbstruck, wide-eyed. From here he could see the Atlantic and the east of North America, covered in cloud. He could see Africa, clear-skied and green and sandy-coloured. Europe was half-covered in cloud, and he couldn't see Britain at all. That figured.
And then Earth fell out of sight and all he could see were the distant stars.
“My god.” And he shut the blind.
4
Weeks later, in the first of the manned freighters, Frank Jacobs lay on the bed in his cabin and thought for a long time about his new life, which would start in seven months and twenty days.
Just like everyone else, he would need regular injections containing, amongst other things, vitamin D, to combat the effect of lower gravity and lack of sun which would make bones brittle, the muscles atrophy, and cause proneness to illness and depression.
On Earth, he had spent months in counsel, learning about the detrimental effect on the mind that the lack of natural greenery, the long year and the dark days would have. Only when all concerned parties were assured of his mental stamina was he passed as being suitable for the journey.
So, he thought, this is what I've bought. Although they gave me long enough to pull out, and it'd be pointless to regret my decision now I'm actually here.
I suppose it won't seem real until I'm there, maybe not even then. How could it? It's alien to us all, unnatural. Still, onward and upward.
He turned his mind to business. Concentrate on that, build yourself up so as to be indispensable. The world is yours for the making.
He sat up and thought about this for a minute, working out strategies and long term ideas. Then he started thinking about the woman he'd seen last night in the ship's bar. The Japanese technician. And he thought about the smile she had given him.
Elsewhere, Elena woke to the ever-present humming of the ship's engines beyond the walls of her cabin and stared up at the ceiling, grey in the dimness of the night-light. Her belly fluttered as she remembered the look Frank Jacobs had given her the night before, a kind of distracted half-smile, like he'd had a lot on his mind and seeing her was a nice surprise. She grinned foolishly and reached for the bottle of water beside her bed.
She had always found him handsome, in a rough, somewhat worn out kind of way, ever since she first saw him boarding the ship on the satellite. The careworn lines on his face and forehead, the weary look of someone who probably smoked and drank and worried too much. Why did she find that attractive? She couldn't say. Perhaps she liked him in spite of these things, not because of them.
Would he be around today? Should she try and get him away for a bit, just for a coffee or something? Would he be interested, being so busy with everything? Oh, to hell with it, she thought, he can only say no.
She felt sick and had to sit up. Three mornings in a row now, what the hell? Must be the space travel, she told herself, I'll adjust sooner or later. Though it had been almost a month already. She got up and went to the bathroom.
After brushing her teeth, Elena dressed and went out into the corridor. People were walking about, doing what people do. Day and night was the same here, you just slept when you were tired. She made her way to the canteen, got toast and beans, and sat across from old Doctor Coutard at his table.
“Morning, Doc.”
“Morning? Is it? Ah, well, bonjour my dear. I trust you are well rested?” he refilled his cup from the percolator on the table.
“Kind of, but I keep waking up sick. I never used to get air sick or anything like that, but I suppose space is different. How are you handling the journey?”
“Sickness in the morning, Elena?” he looked concerned, as if keeping secrets.
“Not morning sickness, no. Just sickness. It's space.”
He leant forward towards her and lowered his voice. Nobody else was near. “You must come to my surgery. I need to test you.”
“What for?”
“A number of women, they are, shall we say, expecting.” He looked at her eyes.
“Well, I'm not. I can't be. I haven't been with anyone in... well, it's been a long time, put it that way.”
“And not all of these other women have, either. Some have, some have not. A puzzle, yes?”
She stopped her fork halfway to her mouth. Bean
s fell off onto the plate. “How come? I mean, how can they be? How can I be, for that matter? Everybody went through a thorough medical the day before lift-off. If anyone was pregnant, they wouldn't have been allowed on board, would they? Would they? I mean, the solar radiation.”
“As for that, we are well protected aboard this ship.”
“I suppose they could have got pregnant while aboard.”
“All these pregnancies date to the time of departure.”
“After take off, or before? And anyway, the women who say they haven't had sex, they could be lying.”
“Indeed.”
“But I haven't, so there's no way.”
Coutard looked at Elena, and she felt a chill go straight through her body. “How many have you tested?” she said.
“Thirteen up to present. And all are pregnant. Ten of them claim they cannot possibly be. I must test you, Elena, I have a terrible feeling.”
“God, no.” It was too awful to contemplate. “What time?”
“Now, if you like. Have you been to the toilet yet?”
“No, only to throw up.”
“Then now. Leave your breakfast and come with me.”
“So what are you gonna do?” said Frank, pushing aside his empty plate. He had prepared a small meal for himself and Elena, and now poured a second glass of wine. Elena's news had come as a shock, and had turned the evening into something more than a simple first date.
“I'm getting rid of it. I didn't ask for this, I didn't even get pregnant by misadventure. This was forced on me.”
“It's unbelievable. Well, not really, I know people in power have a tendency to abuse it. But why do it in secret? Why not enlist willing subjects?”
“I don't know. I don't care. I only know I'm getting rid of this thing. The whole idea of giving birth has always filled me with horror. I'm not supposed to be here as an extender of the human race, it was in my contract. I'm a technician, I thought they'd agreed to that. I was to be put under no pressure to procreate. They made an exception in my case about all that because of my efficiency concerning the mix of liquids and gases needed to sustain pressure suits. But I won't bore you with that. The fact is, they lied to me, they used me.”
“I hate to be the one to say it, but have you thought about this? I mean, right now you're angry, but what about later? Have you thought about that?”
“You mean, will I feel guilt? To be honest, I don't know, but I doubt it. And besides, I'm justified. I've been raped, not to put too fine a point on it. And don't give me any crap about it's not the baby's fault. It's not even a baby.”
Frank raised his hand defensively, “hey, nothing to do with me, I'm saying nothing. Just asking the practical question.”
Elena sighed and finished her noodles. “Pass me that bottle, please. Thanks. It's not just the moral implications. It's the timing too. It can't be good for the foetuses, travelling through space like this. I know we're supposed to be safe from radiation in here, but supposed to doesn't mean anything. I've a terrible feeling a lot of these children are going to be born damaged. Why couldn't they just go with the plan and let people reproduce in their own time, once we got there?”
“How did they manage to do it anyway, without you noticing?”
“I woke up in the hospital bed. They told me I'd collapsed. I expect they drugged me and did it then. Same with the others. I can hardly believe it!”
“What does the doctor say?”
“He'll do the abortion. I'm the only one though, all the other women are keeping theirs. It's a bad mistake, I think.”
“How many are pregnant?”
Elena took a gulp of wine. “All of us.”
Frank and Elena, sitting in the viewing lounge, watched the red globe of Mars turning silently before them, the constellations seeming to rotate as the ship spun on its axis as it made its way through space. He felt happy, relaxed. The sight of spinning space no longer made him nauseous.
“When we get there,” he said, “do you want to stay with me? I mean, it's okay if not. If you need your own space, that's fine. But the offer's there.”
She smiled. “We'll see. It's a tempting offer, Frank. I mean, you're the big shot now, so I'd be crazy to turn down the best condo in the colony. But we'll see.”
“Hey, I won't necessarily get the best condo.”
“Why not? We all know you'll be the one running the place. Take the perks.”
“Soon as I start doing that, we're shafted. Everyone has to be comfortable, we've all got to be catered for. If there's one thing I hate, it's abuse of power. Sammy Loach was an abuser. As long as he was okay, everyone else could sod off and die. I refuse to be like that.”
“Wow. Are you kidding me? A leader with morals? What is the world coming to?”
“Someone has to organise stuff. Just so happens it's me. I didn't screw anyone over to get where I am.”
“So who was this Sammy Loach? You've mentioned him before, and always in the negative.”
“Bad news, that's who Sammy Loach was. I used to work with him, years ago. Well, sort of. I was in business, of various kinds, before I joined the Martian Project. Sammy and I grew up in the same manor, and I always knew he wasn't exactly the most honest of men, if you get what I mean. He always got away with it though, came out smelling of roses, while some other sucker took the rap.
“Anyway, things started to get a bit hairy for me. At least, that was the feeling I started to get. And I learnt early in life to follow my instincts. Sammy got involved with some Russians, and I didn't like it. I know Rockwell was supposed to have wiped out all that stuff, Russian mafia and all, but at street level – well, it's a different story.” Frank stopped talking and stared out the view-port, frowning.
“And?” said Elena. “Were you right?”
Frank looked at her, levelly. “Trafficking. The human kind. It seems no matter how enlightened some people try to make mankind, men will always want to make money off the misery of others.”
“So what was he into before that?”
“Mostly booze, imported from the continent. Cigarettes too. We made a pretty penny off that. I heard rumours about drugs but I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. After all, we were pals, Sammy and me. He was a bit of a rebel, but he wouldn't be into drug-trafficking. And then I stumbled on something. Stray e-mail that got me thinking. I looked into Sammy's more personal affairs and found out he was much worse than I thought. I didn't know what to do.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well, I'd been involved with the Mars Project for a while by then, so I cut all ties with Sammy, told him the Administration wouldn't let me run any personal businesses aside from the project. It wasn't true, but he believed me.”
“And you left it at that?”
“Tried to. But I couldn't. It haunted me, what I'd found out. I had to report it, I just couldn't let those women keep on suffering when it was in my power to do something. First time I ever did anything like that, unselfish I mean. Up until then my life was devoid of any clear moral problems. Booze and cigs are one thing...”
“Did he get caught?”
“Oh yes, it all got blown sky-high, thank god. I don't know if he ever found out it was me who shopped him.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and said, “well, he can hardly do anything about it now, can he?”
“No, he can't. Part of me wanted to tell him I was the one who stopped him, but the fact is I was too scared to do that. If he can sell women into the sex trade, what's to stop him having me killed?” He put his arm around Elena's shoulders. “So, what do you think? About our living arrangements on Mars, I mean?”
“It's nice being with you, Frank, but I've never lived with anyone. I don't know if I could. So can we just wait and see how it goes?”
“Sure,” he said, and stroked her shoulder as he stared into space.
The stars kept on turning.
Six months later.
“Ah, bonjour Elena, c
ome in, come in.” Dr Coutard smiled with pleasure and stepped aside to let Elena into his apartment. “Have you brought wine?”
“I have,” she said, grinning and holding up a bottle of Shiraz.
“Are there many left?”
“Lots. It'll be a while before we run out of these babies. How are things, Doc?”
“Things are better for seeing you, mon cherie.”
“And my wine, eh?”
“Of course. I will get the glasses. How is Frank?”
They settled down in the armchairs and the doctor poured them both a glass full.
“He's fine. I was going to move into his apartment, but we decided to wait until we get to Mars. We're only a week or two away.”
“Indeed.” The doctor seemed distracted, and swilled the red wine around in his glass, watching it.
“Has another one died?” Elena said.
“Oui. Adelle from the medical team. There are only three more women to give birth now. You made a wise choice, my dear. I would hate to see you in so much pain. Or worse.” He looked at her with fondness and smiled.
Elena smiled back. Dr Coutard was a lovely old man, a generous soul, and she had a soft spot for him. “How many babies have died now?”
He sighed, and took a drink. “Every one of them, some in the womb. Eighty two altogether, and the odds are that the three remaining ones will die also.”
Elena looked at her feet “How many women?”
“Most of them. Seventy.”
“Christ almighty.”
“And the survivors are not in good shape. The effects of the radiation, and gestation during space travel. I would not like to give good odds on their survival.” He took a drink, a large one, and refilled his glass while she considered the implications of this.
“I could be the only woman on Mars,” she whispered.
“The onus will not be on you, though, to procreate.”
“It won't?”
“There will be no second generation. All the men I have tested are sterile. There is no reason to think the men I have not yet tested will be any different.”
“So bang goes the plan for colonisation.”
“On an ongoing basis, yes.”
“And I thought the radiation couldn't get to us.”
“Another oversight on the part of our benefactors.”
No one spoke for a few minutes, they just looked at their wine and drank at intervals.
Dr Coutard said, “what is it you are thinking, Elena?”
“I don't know. Like perhaps I made a mistake, coming on this mission.”
“I too. But at the time it seemed like the thing to do, yes? I would have died a lonely and unfulfilled old man if I had not come along.”
“I'm glad you did come along though,” she smiled.
“I feel the same way. And I believe Frank is happy you are here, also.”
She grinned foolishly, and finished the second glass.
In the first freighter, one hundred and fifty people had left the Earth-orbiting space station Hope's Dream, sixty-five reached Mars, and fifty-two survived the setting-up of the colony, Elena Yoshino being the sole female. Eleven people had died from after-effects of the journey, or sickness and infirmities contracted upon landing, and two had died through misadventure during construction.
One month after the first freighter landed, the second arrived. A malfunction on board caused the ship to crash land, no survivors. Messages relayed before their arrival to Mars stated that all eighty-five female crew had died during childbirth en route, as had all the babies.
The corpses were buried in the cemetery. The ship was broken up and recycled to finish the Compound.
There was no vote for leadership, but it was generally acknowledged that Frank Jacobs was top dog, he being the only one amongst the survivors with the wherewithal to lead and organise the others. His was a thankless task.
The Compound was never given a name, it was the first and last Colony that would be built on Mars, and so it needed none.
The colonisation project was a shambles, it was to have no follow-up beyond a regular shipping of supplies from the space station Hope's Dream.
She awoke from falling dreams with a yawning emptiness clawing at her inside. Keeping her eyes screwed shut, she held back the urge to cry out, to scream at God, but she knew it was hopeless.
Is this what it's going to be like from now on? She thought. It wasn't getting easier. How could she ever have guessed what it would be like? They didn't prepare you for this, not properly. How could you be prepared? So far away. No way to get home.
It was as if everyone had died, and all that was left was a howling blackness. A vacuum. All she had was Frank, and she wasn't so sure that she wanted him any longer. Obstinate swine. Did he even love her? He never showed it, all they did was argue. What was the point?
She felt without looking, the empty bed beside her, where he had been. Up early and gone to do whatever it was he had to do, without even a kiss goodbye. So selfish.
She opened her eyes and it was still dark. Always dark.
She stared into the gloom, beginning to make things out. Clothes hanging over backs of chairs, broken bits of machinery on shelves. Boxes of useless junk piled in the corners. Dim light seeping in through the edges of the window blind. The pale green glow of the digital clock on the bedside cabinet, next to the glass of water.
She leaned up onto one elbow, and reached to turn on the lamp.
A fresh glass of water, left by Frank for her. He knew she was always dehydrated on a morning, but this was the first time he had ever done this for her.
She smiled and put the cool glass to her lips. It tasted so good, as good as it ever gets here anyway. Maybe he did still love her, after all. Or at least he cared.
Would she have thought to do this for him?
Elena had to admit to herself that no, she probably would not have thought to do this for Frank.
Years passed. Supplies arrived every three months or so. The biosphere managed to survive the rigours of the Martian climate for two and a half Earth years before it began to wear away, eventually collapsing in on itself.
By that time, the colonists had built smaller, sturdier habitats for themselves, all connected by a network of arbitectuse tunnels. From above, the Compound resembled nothing more than a diagram of some huge molecule.
The condos had air-recycling in their ceilings and were heated by pipes beneath the floor and in the walls. Every morning a carbon dioxide frost greeted the colonists as they awoke and looked outside. They had to suit up before going out, not only because of the atmosphere, but to be protected from the solar winds that still cut through from space into the Martian surface despite the terra-forming attempts.
Every month, a small team was despatched to the valleys to bring back ice. People feared running out of water, running out of food, running out of air.
There were ice caps bigger than Texas on this planet, and if they melted they would cover the entire world in water over thirty-five feet deep. But the ice caps would never melt. It would never get that warm. Not unless the Sun went supernova. And then what would be the point of having water?
The colonists survived as best they could, knowing they were not entirely abandoned by their own people back home, but somehow feeling that they may as well be.
Despite the months and years of psychological preparation, this world was too remote, too lonely and dark for human beings. Relationships suffered, intelligence atrophied, bones became brittle and existence seemed to fade into a strange dream-world.
Frank and Elena drifted apart. The love they had could hold them together for only so long.
Many people, quite simply, lost control of their minds, and began to fill up their time with pointless activities. The most popular of these activities was drinking Bill Adamson's home-grown spirits, and smoking his home-grown weed.
Elena dreamed.
The sight of Olympus Mons took her by surprise, which in its
elf surprised her. How had she not seen it on her approach? Olympus was visible for more than a hundred miles, dwarfing the world around it.
“I can hardly breathe,” she said, and Kundulu placed a hand on her shoulder, gently. A shiver went through her. “So high. I knew it was, but I never imagined. So high!” The summit seemed to move against the blue sky behind it, and she had to steady herself on the handrail of the boat. Water rippled gently as they sailed.
“Those ridges,” Kundulu said, languidly. “Do you see the series of parallel ridges coming down the side? They were created over thousands of years by the continual wind.”
“They must be miles long. But there is no wind, Kundulu. Why is it so quiet, so calm?” She looked away from the majesty of Olympus to see the grass on the bank of the canal. The tips ruffled in the small breeze. She felt a pain developing slowly at the back of her brain.
“There is wind, it is always there. Only you cannot feel it right now.”
Elena turned to him but he wasn't beside her anymore.
Looking back at the mountain, she felt tiny and alone.
Elena looked out through the window at the little dust devils being whipped up by the wind on the sandy ground as she stepped into the legs of her pressure suit. She crouched down to seal the boots, then pulled up the body and put her arms into the sleeves. Zipping up, she walked closer to the window and looked down towards her little self-contained garden. She could see the perspex lid rattling in the breeze, but couldn't hear a thing over the continual hum of the life support above the ceiling. Funny, first time in years she'd taken notice of that sound.
She picked up her helmet from the table and knocked the framed photo of her parents onto the floor. The glass broke and she reached down to carefully free the photo. In it, her father was laughing in the way he always would after telling one of his anecdotes. Mum was smiling her warm, caring smile. Elena placed it into a pocket in her suit.
Helmet on, she sealed it tight and switched on the life-support. The vibrations of the system circulating warm air through the body made her shiver a little, and the air brushed across her face as it moved into and around the helmet.
As she stepped towards the door a rush of giddiness made her stumble. She froze until it passed, then flicked the switch on the airlock.
This is it, I'm on my way at last.
The green all-clear light flashed on and the airlock clicked open.