Grey Mars and other Short Stories. Read online

Grey Mars and Other Short Stories

  By Christopher J Young

  Copyright 2012 Christopher J Young

  For Laura.

  Grey Mars

  Prologue

  “I'm telling you, the radiation will kill them.”

  “Our experts think differently, Doctor Dreiser. They believe, and I agree with them on this, that the most prudent way of proceeding is to artificially inseminate.”

  “You talk like a politician, Porter.”

  “That's Mister Porter to you, Doctor.”

  “The foetuses will die. And probably the women too.”

  “As senior executive of the Administration, I have the final word on this.”

  “Then why bother even calling on me for my advice? Just for appearance's sake?”

  “Of course, I have to be seen to be considering all available alternative courses of action.”

  “But you aren't even listening to what I say!”

  “I'm listening to you, Doctor Dreiser.”

  “I'm only here for show, aren't I? Are you even making notes?”

  “All is being recorded, Doctor. Your advice and comments are important to us.”

  “Like hell! You're going ahead with this, whatever I say. And it'll be murder.”

  “Not murder. It shall be a glorious new generation for the new world. An expansion of humanity into the solar system.”

  “Christ almighty, I don't believe you! Are you grooming yourself for public office?”

  “Be careful, Doctor Dreiser, remember that you are being recorded.”

  “You scare me, Porter. You scare me because I think you're an ambitious man, and what you have to say means more than what you're actually saying, doesn't it.”

  “Ambition is a good thing, Doctor. It keeps the mind active, the body healthy. I think this meeting is at an end now. Thank you for your time, Doctor Dreiser.”

  “My good god.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. Good day to you.”

  Part One – The Compound

  1

  Years later.

  Elena Yoshino looked up as the sound of thunder rumbled over the ruddy-brown desert. The visor of her helmet obscured part of her view, but at the sight of the giant bulk of metal floating overhead she began to feel nauseous. She took a deep breath and put out a hand to grab the steel rabbit-fence that rattled in the breeze. Her head spun as the world turned upside down.

  Pink and grey storm clouds were gathering and whirling above her and the huge supply ship broke through the gases and tumbled into the lower atmosphere. Electricity sparked and crackled from its hull, absorbing into the wind-blown clouds, feeding them as they continued to block out the small, weak Martian sun.

  She watched the ship shriek and grumble and fall slowly from dusky sky towards landing spot fifteen miles away. It would be a minute or so before it hit. The clouds in its wake eddied and broke, reforming like heavy liquid and rolling away on their normal course, westwards towards the mountains.

  Elena turned her attention back to the vegetable patch. She had to steady herself in the lower gravity, even in her boots. Moving too quickly gave her a head rush. She pulled a small carrot from the soil and knocked it clean against the plastic surround. Dry dirt skittered off it and flew away in the breeze.

  Standing, she wiped the dust from the visor of her pressure suit with the piece of outdoor rag. Damned desert, settling on visors. Covering everything.

  “Jesus,” she muttered. “This place.”

  She swatted the hovering flies around her without effect, and the distant sound of the crash landing echoed back across the stretches of desert. Loneliness and fatigue swept over her. She needed to sit down. She needed a drink. Elena Yoshino always felt this way when supplies came, it made her remember just how far from home she was.

  And that the sun up there beyond the clouds was so small and ineffective.

  And that she was stuck here with no way out.

  “Got to get away from here. I've just got to.”

  She crouched down with difficulty and fastened the dirty perspex lid over the tiny, concealed garden. After checking the water pump was in working order, she stood and turned back towards her condo, kicking up plumes of dust as she moved. The dust spread into the air and blew away. The wind was starting to pick up again down here.

  She pressed the switch to unlock the door, then pressed it again.

  “Damn it!”

  On the third attempt, the latch opened within the door and it hissed and unlocked.

  She pulled it open and stepped into the airlock compartment. The mechanism would have to be looked at. Nothing lasts for long on Mars. Everything breaks.

  Later, she would call out one of Frank’s engineers to see to it. Bob Johnston would have it fixed in no time. And while he’s here, Elena thought, maybe I’ll rip the clothes off him. He was a good looking guy, but for some reason she couldn’t build up any interest. The lack of blood rush at these thoughts of possible sex depressed her. She was still young, not even forty, and all her urges had gone. This hell-hole was killing her by degrees.

  Elena pulled shut the outer door, secured it and pushed the de-pressurisation switch. Dozens of flies fell to the floor.

  When the oxygen and pressure gauge read normal she unstrapped her helmet and opened the inner door.

  The hinges creaked as the door opened and it dropped slightly on its swing with a click. She pushed it shut and put the carrot on the table top nearest her. She unlocked her helmet, took it off with a hiss of air, and hung it on a hook, then pulled off her gloves, dropping them on the table. She unzipped her jacket and noticed the beeping sound that was filling the room.

  The com was buzzing. Elena went over to the screen and pressed Answer. She knew it would be Frank.

  “Hi,” his grim voice came over the static. The screen showed white snow. None of the video links worked on the entire settlement.

  “Frank,” she said, “what do you want?”

  “Ship just came in, I’m going out to salvage it now. Anything you need?”

  “Like you care.”

  “Beside the point.” Curtly.

  Again. It was starting again. For years now, and especially since she left him, she and Frank found it impossible to speak to each other without arguing.

  “But like I said before,” he carried on, “we’ve all got to keep going.”

  “Yes, like you’re always saying.”

  “Look, I only…”

  “No, I don’t need anything, Mr Frank Jacobs, king of the blasted Compound! If I do, I’ll buy it from you.”

  “Well I wasn’t going to give it to you, just letting you have first hit.”

  “So generous.”

  “Oh, to hell with you, Elena.”

  “Already been there.” But he had cut the connection.

  Frank was right though. Only fifty-six people on the Compound, on the whole of the planet, and they had to be kept alive.

  More than that, they had to be kept in order, kept sane, and as much as she hated Frank, she had to admit he did a first rate job. He was strong, he was smart and fair with people, even if he was a son of a bitch.

  She slumped into her one comfortable chair, still suited up. Dust blew up into her face and she started coughing. Her open jacket fell around her frail body. She looked down at the tight black thermal top she wore and frowned. My god, she thought, there'll be nothing left of me soon. I've got to get out of here. She reached over for the bottle of cloudy liquor on the table by her side.

  “I thought you were stopping drinking Bill Adamson's whisky,” said a calm and gentle voice.

  Kundulu was standing in the corner, eight feet tall, smooth-skinne
d and glowing in the Martian gloom. He was awaiting her comments with an almost saintly air, his red and blue robes hanging regally.

  Elena could never quite focus on his features, they always seemed indistinct to her, and later, when he wasn’t there, she remembered him as bland, merely a suggestion of a face. A muddle of colours.

  Right now she looked at him and saw the golden hair hanging from his head like a mane of silk, the high, smooth forehead, yellow eyebrows and even-textured, hairless face. Eyes the colour of a clear blue summer sky on Earth, deep azure. Turquoise lips over a bony, pointed chin. He gave the impression of easy power languishing like a sleeping lion.

  She put back the bottle and spoke. “I have to leave, Kundulu. We’re not made for this world.” She got up, went to the coffee pot and poured herself some, the liquid rolling into the metal cup as if in slow motion. “The gravity makes my head ache more and more every day. And look at this – it’s madness!”

  She took a sip and watched the steam float up and around in swirls, detecting the outside wind even in this sealed environment. The wind. The constant wind from nowhere.

  “I want to go home, Kundulu. I really want to go home. And I think I’m going mad.” She blew into the steam and caused it to whirl in all directions. She sat down again, dust flying, and placed her booted feet up onto the small table before her. Junk fell off it onto the floor.

  Kundulu stepped across the room, graceful and silent. “This world affects you all,” he said, his voice like dreams. “Have you noticed the changes in Dr Coutard?”

  “He’s always been mad,” Elena said. “He’s never been right in the head, even on the ship coming over.” She took another sip. “But I know what you mean. He’s gotten worse, I think it's dementia. We’re all losing it. Frank’s the only one who seems normal.”

  “Even he has changed.” Kundulu was standing before the table by the wall, looking at her display of Martian rocks on the small shelf above. Why did she have them? Weren’t there enough outside? All over the bloody place.

  She looked over to him, and paused before speaking, somehow frightened. “Can I go home, Kundulu? Is there a way?”

  He walked to the other end of the room, to the window looking out onto the vegetable garden that Elena tended, and watched the grey-pink Martian sky as storm clouds began to form. The weak and tiny Sun peaked through a temporary gap, like a dying entity. She felt like crying. And then he spoke. He gave her hope.

  “There is a way.”

  She put down her cup onto the floor beside her and readied herself to get up. But there was no strength in her legs. Her whole body felt vertiginous. Her head swam and Kundulu slipped from focus.

  “There is?” she said.

  He turned towards her and seemed to glow all the more. “There is risk.”

  2

  Frank Jacobs leaned back in his chair and watched the clouds fly past his skylight window. He was worried, and suddenly noticed he had been clenching his jaw for the past minute or so, teeth biting together so hard that his gums had begun to ache.

  He sighed and reached over to dial Bob Johnston’s number. Static leapt and jumped over the screen, and after a few seconds Bob’s voice came through. “Frank,” he said.

  “Hi, Bob. Ready?”

  “I am. Eddie’s making sure there’s enough fuel in the quad.”

  “I’ll be over in ten.” He flicked the off switch, and went to the coat hook.

  Damn that Elena, damn her! He took the heavy duty wind-breaker and slipped it on over his regular clothes, making sure the zip was all the way up. Those Martian winds could be deadly. Or, more to the point, that Martian sand could be deadly. He checked his boots were secure, put on the helmet and strapped it tight, then gloved up.

  With one final look around his room, he flicked the air pressure switch on the door and stepped into the airlock.

  His back was giving him trouble again, and the weight of the heavy-duty helmet didn't help matters. He felt like he was getting old, and he wasn't as strong as he used to be. He stopped for a while and leaned his head against the wall, the metal helmet clanking against the surface. A wave of despondency began to surge through him. He shook it off with a grunt and carried on.

  Sealing the inner door behind him, he thought of Elena again as he waited for the all-clear light. It didn’t come on, but there was a click within its mechanism, it was obviously unlocking. The light must have burned out. Have to replace it. He hesitated before pushing the outer door open, doubting at the last second, but everything was fine and he stepped out into the redness, into the dust. Into the wind. A small tumble-weed bounced past his feet and skipped away into the desert. Wind was picking up.

  He wished they could get along, Elena and himself.

  Elena. With her dark eyes and black hair and Oriental beauty. Soft to the touch and hard on the heart. She had been his love and his life and how he hated her! How he hated her.

  Still, he would make sure she got what she needed.

  Frank, in the early days, had plans for the economic market on Mars. He had painstakingly worked his way up the ladder of power whilst on the nine month journey from Earth, gaining stock, collecting friends, building collateral and reputation.

  He had sensed an opening, and took it at the first opportunity. Using his business acumen, he began small, buying and selling goods and information, slowly but surely gaining power and influence among one level of the crew, and then another. He knew where everything was stored and within three months, everyone knew that Frank Jacobs was the man to go to if you wanted anything.

  He was clever, he was careful not to burn any bridges or double-cross anybody. After all, these were the people he would be living with for the rest of his life. But he knew that no one had worked out how the Martian economy would be run. It had been simply overlooked. All energies had been focused on the science, on how the colonists would live, how the equipment would work, that kind of thing. Scientists were a clever lot, but they had no idea about how things really were.

  Things would be how Frank Jacobs would make them. If nobody took care of the economic system, the colony would flounder. Trade was lifeblood.

  It was hard work but it had been worth it. Frank Jacobs was, in the end, top dog. He could charge what he wanted, but he would always be fair, because the colony would have to be self-sufficient, so there was no room for personal greed. Frank had the interests of the colonists at heart, he told himself.

  But after the trauma of landing on Mars and the disasters that followed, it wasn’t long until he realised his economic market was useless. The money had quickly become worthless. Nobody needed or wanted money. It lay in piles around the place like so much paper. Not just in Frank’s place, but everyone’s.

  The reason for money, the dreams of a new Martian economy, had died along with the colonisation efforts. Now all that mattered was survival. Every three months they sent a ship full of provisions from the station orbiting Earth. Frank and the boys would go salvage it, and later the ship would be broken down and recycled.

  But now he didn’t sell the goods like in the first days. Now he would simply distribute them. It was an old argument between Frank and Elena, the one about her buying from him. A relic from those times, from their first arguments. She would get what she needed. Everyone would get what they needed.

  Assuming there was anything.

  Three months was starting to become four. Each time, the ship was a day later. And there was less in these last few deliveries than before. Of course, there were less people every year, but still, it seemed to be getting harder and harder to survive on what was sent.

  But Frank knew something else, too. He knew that soon, one of the freighters would contain something else.

  He trudged across the sand and rocks, avoiding the larger ones, and wiped a glove across his visor so he could see. Eddie was there, across the Compound, sealing the quad's fuel compartment and taking the canister back into the metal hut.

  Frank's heart
leaped as he stumbled on a rock. He paused to steady himself and felt the vertigo. Close. You had to be careful not to break anything here. The lower gravity had, over the course of time, weakened the bones, making them brittle. A broken leg could very well spell the end for a person.

  Miles away in the distance, where the wreckage lay like a big rock, thick clouds swirled across the sky in semi-darkness as the Sun feebly tried to penetrate. The emptiness began to grow and well up inside him so he gritted his teeth and forced the feeling into determination. This planet would not beat him. It would not kill him, like it had so many others. He would win. He would live out his days and die the same as he would on Earth.

  Environment does not make a man.

  He flicked the radio switch on his helmet and spoke to Eddie. “How’s it going?”

  Eddie’s voice crackled back. “Fuelled up, ready for off.”

  They’d had some great times, and some terrible times too. Maybe it was the excitement of the new world. Maybe it was fear of the unknown. Maybe it was simply love. Frank Jacobs and Elena Yoshino had found each other as they were losing everything that had been their lives. They had been bound together for all eternity. Or so they had thought at the time.

  Love at first sight, more or less. Or something of that ilk. Whatever its name, their feelings for each other had given them hope, a reason to go on, to make it work on the new world.

  But life has a way of crushing those who would find happiness.

  They often wondered, if they had been on Earth, that they might have lasted.

  They also wondered that if they had been on Earth, would they have got together at all? Circumstance threw them together and ripped them apart.

  Frank felt a pang of regret as he drove the large, covered freight-quad out into the desert. He suppressed it and focussed on the terrain. No time for this now, there was work to be done.

  But he couldn’t stop. He could never stop. He thought about her all the time, even after four years apart, and he hated her for it. That she could get so far beneath his skin, where no one else ever had, and that he had let her. He hated her for it.

  Almost as much as he detested this planet he was stranded on.

  He wiped his visor, dust getting inside the vehicle even though the doors were locked shut, and he steered around a giant boulder that wasn’t there three months ago. At least ten feet high. Where the hell had it come from? That’s what he wanted to know.

  “Weird,” said Bob beside him. “How do these things move around?”

  “Martians,” Eddie Makombo piped up from the back seat.

  Bob turned around slightly, with some difficulty in his bulky wind-breaker. “What, you think some ancient race of Martians comes out at night and does this?”

  “We don’t know there aren’t any. Or never were any,” Eddie said defensively. There’s no proof of anything.”

  “It’s not very likely, is it? There’s hardly any sun, it never gets above freezing out there, and it’s always bloody windy,” Bob said.

  Eddie carried on. “But we don’t know, do we?”

  Bob turned back to face front. “Well, no, we don’t. But why the hell would they move giant boulders around?”

  Frank wasn’t really listening. He was picturing Elena’s face after one of their final fights, so long ago. Tears streaming down her cheeks, expression strangely resigned. She was so beautiful. He could kick himself for making her cry like that. But he managed it every time. Always knew the right thing to throw at her. But that was the last time. And that was the picture of her that remained with him. Distraught, looking at him with pleading and hopeless eyes.

  He often thought of that moment as the defining point in their lives.

  He could have saved them then. He could have backed down, could have watched what he said in future. But no, he carried on in the same way, and the time after that, she didn’t cry. And the time after that, she left him.

  “We there?” Bob’s voice broke through. “I think I see it. Was that lightning?”

  A few drops of rain spattered the windscreen, mixing with the red-brown dust and draining in rivulets up towards the roof as the blast of air from the windscreen blowers hit them. Thunder sounded from the distance. “Damn,” said Frank, realising what this meant. He turned off the dust-blowers and turned on the rain-wipers. They smeared filthy water across the screen as drops began to fall with more regularity and force, blown by the wind.

  They would have to park up and wait.

  “Did you put the mud tracks on, Eddie?” Frank said.

  “Sure did.”

  Frank stopped the quad and pushed the button for the switch-over. Motors whirred as the tracks came out and encased the wheels, tank-like. Through the gloom, he could make out the hulking black shape of the giant freighter. “Only a few hundred metres to the ship. Think we can make it?” he asked Eddie.

  “I reckon so. But what’s the point in risking it? We’ll have to wait until it stops raining anyway.”

  “Okay.” Frank acknowledged Eddie’s expert judgement and turned off the engine. Rain battered the windscreen and the roof above their heads. The temperature dropped. Lightning flashed not far away, followed closely by the sound of thunder.

  “How long, you think?” Bob said.

  “Who knows?” said Frank. “It’s Mars.”

  3

  Elena watched out the window as a streak of lightning hit the landing spot, far away, and she worried a little about Frank.

  She dropped the blind and shut out the sight as the thunder rumbled across the desert.

  Staring a few seconds at the grey blind, Elena decided what she must do, and turned towards the com. She dialled the number for Dr Coutard.

  Static buzzed and crackled and the frazzled voice of the old doctor sounded. “Oui, yes, Elena? Can I help? Are you well?”

  “Hello, Doc. Can I come over?”

  “Of course, my dear, of course you can. I have very little to do. Non Occupe. Come on over, and bring wine.”

  She smiled. She had no wine, and he knew she had no wine. He always said it anyway. Dr Coutard was a dear old man, and sometimes Elena thought that he had forgotten he was on Mars. He rarely ventured out, and spoke as if they were living back on Earth. She dreaded that one day he would completely forget his whereabouts and walk out into the deadly Martian air, breathe in the carbon dioxide and have the dust storms strip the flesh from his skeleton.

  She hoped it would never happen, but it wouldn’t surprise her if it did.

  Would he be able to help her? How far had his mind atrophied? Could she trust his judgement?

  Elena looked over at Kundulu, glowing in the corner of the room, looking at nothing on this side of reality.

  She would have to take the chance.

  Dr Phillipe Coutard, elderly, tiny, white haired and heavily wrinkled, opened the door to the passageway that connected his home with that of Elena Yoshino and several others. The ball bearing-rattle of the rainstorm on the roof echoed along the corridor, and gave him a chill feeling. A clap of thunder seemed to shake the arbitectuse walls. He was most pleased to see his friend. “Ah, my dear, bonjour, entrée s'il vous plaît. Café?”

  His smile faltered ever so slightly as he noticed that the darkness beneath her eyes seemed darker, or perhaps her face was even paler than usual, drawn to the point of illness and starvation. Her hair hung lankly, and she seemed much older than usual. He broadened his grin to hide his concern.

  Elena spoke. “Hello, Doc, how are you?”

  She followed him in and he switched on the water boiler. It must have recently boiled because it turned itself off just as quickly. He filled two cups with steaming black liquid.

  Elena moved a broken computer monitor from a chair and sat down. “Thought I'd pick your brains a while.”

  “A pleasure, Elena.”

  “I'm leaving, I'm going out into the desert. I need to know what's out there that can kill me”

  “Ah, a holiday,” Dr Coutard n
odded, smiling knowingly. He passed her drink to her.

  “Not quite. I won't be coming back.”

  “Of course you will, my dear, it's not that dangerous.”

  “I'm going home.”

  Dr Coutard looked briefly puzzled, then said, “ah, you mean Earth. Yes, yes. How are you doing this?”

  “Kundulu has told me of a place beyond the Rockwell Mountains, an ancient underground Martian city. My way home lies there.”

  He blinked short-sightedly at her and reached onto a shelf for his spectacles. “Are you sure you are feeling well, my dear? You look a little, shall we say, distracted.”

  “I may be slightly drunk.” She took a mouthful of strong coffee. “I've heard of mutant plants, insects, things like that out in the desert. Do you know how I can avoid them?”

  “Not so simple, I fear. At some point you will have to replenish your water, and the oases are where the creatures live. Would you like to look through my files? I can answer any questions you may have. Silly old fool I may be, but my work is my life.”

  He reached into his desk and pulled out a hand-bound book. “All the life on Mars is in here.” Elena stood up to take the volume and sat down in the Doctor's spare armchair. “I can give you maps and atlases before you leave. It would not do for my favourite girl to go falling into the Marineris.”

  Elena's coffee went cold as she read.

  4

  Lightning flashed in the distance and as the thunder made its presence felt, Frank Jacobs stared through the rain at the grainy silhouette of mountains in the distance and tried to block out Eddie's incessant jabbering.

  How many years was it now? Hard to keep count of Earth years, the Martian year was almost twice as long. But it didn't matter.

  He wondered how it was all going to end.

  Frank had met Elena on the ship coming over, on that long, tiresome voyage from Earth. He'd never been sure just why they got together, it just seemed natural at the time. They enjoyed one another's company, felt relaxed when they were together, calming all the stresses and worries of their future lives on the frontier.

  And fun, yes, they had fun. Hard to believe now. They actually laughed on the journey, joking about the world they'd left behind, the world they were starting, and everything in between. The laughter more often than not ended in sad silence, as they thought more about the world they'd left, the world they were starting, and the long, empty space in the middle.

  The stars had been beautiful, and had touched Frank in a surprising way.

  At the end of their days, they would sometimes stare out of the viewing ports at the endless specks of light revolving slowly in the blackness as the Pioneer span on its axis and hurtled its way towards Mars, the rotation creating an artificial gravity for the two hundred people aboard. Space was so much brighter than he had imagined. So many suns.

  He didn't like to think about it.

  He heard Eddie talking again from the back seat. “And remember that Face of Mars thing? Turned out to be an optical illusion? How do we know it wasn't meant to be an optical illusion?”

  “Rain's slowing, Frank,” Bob said, gazing out the window. “Shall we start her up?”

  Frank turned the key and the engine spluttered to life. “Let's get cracking then.”

  5

  Spiders. Flies. Mosquitoes. Rats. Knot-weed. These were only a few of the dangers out in the desert, but they were the most common. “These things,” said Elena, and Dr Coutard jumped awake in his armchair. “The spiders that live in the ground. Are they dangerous to us?”

  “The Trapdoor Spiders. I do not know, but avoid them if you can. Like everything else, they have mutated, and I believe their main diet is rat. And remember too, there are spiders that float on the wind in sacs, trailing their cobwebs. Not too dangerous in themselves to us, but a nuisance. I will supply you with various anti-venoms, your regular shots will cover most other problems. Apart from tumble-weed, it is the rats that are your biggest worry.”

  “Rats.” Elena's distaste showed. “How did these things get here? It's not like they can stow away. We came through forty eight million miles of space.”

  “The second ship brought flora and fauna. Most died in transit or during the crash-landing, along with the people, but those that lived evolved, or adapted. Rats and flies are hard to kill. They left us and adapted to this world much better than we. More coffee, my dear?”

  “Please. But can they get through my suit?”

  The doctor poured more coffee for the both of them. “I think not. Maybe the rats, but not the spiders. Be aware of the knot-weed; it is barbed, of course. It may be worse now in some places than before. I would advise you to take as much water as you can carry, in order to avoid the oases.” He handed her the mug.

  “Any whisky for this?” she asked.

  “Indeed, there is a bottle in the cupboard by the window. I wish they would send us wine. I miss wine.”

  Elena put down the files and went to the cupboard. She looked out through the perspex at the rain splashing and running down in dirty streams. Lightning once more streaked across the horizon, but the thunder was calmer now. “Looks like it's easing off.”

  “Remember to take an umbrella,” said the doctor. “Put two into your vehicle. You have a vehicle, yes?”

  Taking a swig from the bottle, she nodded, and said, “well, kind of. I can get Eddie to sort one out for me.”

  “How far will you travel?”

  “To the mountains. About a hundred and ninety kilometres.” She poured a generous amount of whisky into her coffee. “Kundulu says that's where Thanduul is.”

  “Thanduul.”

  “The city, beneath the mountains. It's very ancient, but my way home lies there.”

  “Wonderful! Is it a teleportation device? A ship?”

  “I don't know, he was very vague.”

  “Ah, Elena my dear, I would go with you, but my adventuring days are gone.” He went to look into the mirror on the door to the bathroom, and studied his deeply lined, colourless face. “Long gone.”

  “You can come with me, I'll get a quad with three seats.”

  “No, non, my dear.” He brightened. “But I will make sure you are well supplied! Do not take any Adamson's with you. It will dehydrate you."

  “It helps pass the time.” She opened the file and resumed her reading. The knot-weed was particularly deadly, barbed like wire, mostly poisonous to humans, totally inedible. The constant Martian winds collected stray vines and whipped them up into tumble-weeds of varying sizes, all lethal. The tumble-weed was a bother even here in the Compound. The rabbit-fence surrounding them stopped most getting in, but some would bounce right over and skitter across the ground.

  Other plants had evolved extra large, wide leaves that made it possible to capture the weak rays of the sun, whenever the clouds dispersed enough to let the sunlight break through. These leaves would be facing any direction, to catch not only the light direct from the sun, but also light reflected from the giant mirror-satellites that orbited Mars. The doctor had illustrated his hand-written notes with beautifully rendered colour drawings. She wished she could take the book with her, a small memento of her friend.

  Elena's mind drifted and the file lay on her lap. She liked to look up at the satellites on the rare clear nights, that orbital ring of silver, spaced out across the stars. And the ochre colour of Jupiter, so much larger than as seen from Earth. But when the blue-green presence of Earth came into the sky, she couldn't look at the stars any more. It was best not to dwell on what was lost, and the promises that died in infancy.

  Elena looked over at the doctor. He was asleep in his armchair, chuntering quietly and illegibly in his dreams. She got up and went to find him a blanket.

  Then she took the book with her to finish later, went home and opened another bottle of Bill Adamson's.

  6

  Frank pulled up five feet away from the freighter, its huge black mass looming over them like a god. All three men got o
ut of the quad and looked up at the ship. In the darkness after the storm, grey clouds seeming to glow beyond the monstrous silhouette, it seemed like a living thing, looking down on them after its epic journey between the planets. Rainwater dripped from the hull and ran towards the ground in little rivers. Frank fancied he could hear the body groan and he set off walking, circling the ship in a clockwise direction. Eddie and Bob went the other way.

  He passed the huge exhaust pipes that were giving off steam as they boiled the rainwater that had landed on them, and came upon the airlock. It was open.

  It appeared to have been blasted open from inside by a small detonator, but Frank couldn't be sure. It may have simply been a freak event caused by the crash-landing. Frank looked at the ground around him, but the rain had pummelled the mud to cover any traces.

  He looked up towards the rocks thirty feet or so away. There were caves in those rocks, but Frank could see nothing except shadows.

  He walked on and met the other two as they came around from the other side.

  “Let's get on with it, shall we?” he said.

 

  7

  The room undulated and whirled as Elena undressed. Her ribs were hurting and she ran a hand over the right side of her ribcage, feeling the ridged contours of the bones.

  Reaching for her shot-pack, she opened it and got out a new syringe. Three shots every night, before bed. Two every morning. Just so that she could stay alive in this hell. Why did she bother?

  She checked for air bubbles, then stuck the shot into the needle scar on her upper arm. It never stopped hurting. Then she got into her pyjamas.

  She fell into her bed and slept deeply for a while before dreaming on the verge of wakefulness, for what seemed like hours.

  The canal was placid, the air was warm, and the motor boat chugged along at six miles per hour towards the small yellow sun hanging in the clear blue Martian sky. But she was in no rush. A small headache worried the sides of her skull and Elena closed her eyes and relished the cool breeze on her face. She was so glad to be awake from the nightmare of a dark and decaying Mars, and back to the world of peaceful wonder she had dreamed of as a girl.

  Opening her eyes, Elena scanned the horizon around her. Long grass on the embankment leading to the rusty desert and the mountains in the distance. Not a soul for miles. Soon she would come to Kundulu's old red-stone hut.

  Strange that the sky should be blue on the red planet. Still, it was peaceful and warm. She marvelled at how well the terra-forming had gone. The air had oxygen and the native Martians could still live here, comfortable and happy. Her mind veered away from thinking about this too much. It made her head hurt more.

  She adjusted her course to a bend in the canal and watched the ripples in the motor boat's wake. Near the bank, a fish splashed briefly on the surface before diving back into the quiet grey water. Grey? No, blue.

  A distant voice called out in English, “Ahoy!” and Elena turned to see the grassy bank a few hundred yards in front of the boat. The lanky, glowing figure of Kundulu was sitting in the long brown-green grass that swayed in the breeze all around him. He waved.

  She smiled and waved back, cut the engine and coasted towards the bank, throwing him a rope to tie to the wooden post that would act as a jetty. The engine spluttered into silence and Kundulu rose to his feet, holding the rope. He was so tall.

  “Greetings, Elena,” said Kundulu as she jumped to the bank. She ran to him and he wrapped his long arms around her frail body, hugging gently. She sighed.

  “Do you have any tea?” she said. “I'm so thirsty.”

  In the Martian's red-stone hut, he picked up the metal pot from the fire and poured steaming tea into a plastic cup, handed it to Elena. “You have travelled far,” he said.

  “I have? Yes, I have. But I can't remember where it was I came from.” She blew onto the hot drink. “Think I'll have to go back soon, though.”

  Kundulu glowed a little more. “You can't go back the way you came.”

  Elena paused with the cup to her lips. “Will I die?”

  “We must all die. I had my time, you will have yours.”

  Puzzled, she sipped her tea. Kundulu was not dead, he was here. “I love you Kundulu, my friend, but I miss my home.”

  “Don't be afraid, little Earth girl, you will make it home, but try not to fear too much. We all go home in the end. This is mine, such as it is.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes, sipped her tea. “Maybe I'll stay another day.”

  “I can go some of the way with you.”

  The ache in her bones and head woke her up. Lying in the darkness, she stared into the shadows, and began to cry.

  8

  Elena picked up the things she had knocked off her table the day before, and looked around for somewhere else to put them. Every surface was taken, covered in useless rubbish, broken equipment, sheets of paper, all kinds of stuff. She put them back onto the little table.

  “Really Kundulu. I mean, what’s the point? Have you seen how big the Universe is? I’ve only travelled from Earth, it took nine months to cover forty eight million miles, an uncountable distance. And just think how small that is, compared to even the size of the solar system. The Oort Cloud is further away than I can comfortably imagine, and then there's all that distance to the next star, the nearest one. It's insane, it's just all too big.

  Kundulu nodded. “It seems infinite,” he said.

  “Exactly. It seemed to take forever just coming from Earth, and the distance I can barely hold in my head, even now. But it’s basically nothing in comparison. And a person is virtually nothing compared to that, like an atom. So what does that make me, in relation to the Universe?”

  “Important.”

  “No, no it doesn't, it makes me less important than a grain of sand.”

  “Why would a grain of sand be unimportant?”

  “Oh, don't be so...so...annoying! I hope you aren't gonna bore me with platitudes.” She reached for her cigarettes, hand made from weeds grown by Bill Adamson, and lit one with her lighter. “It’s nine thousand billion miles from one end of our solar system to the other. And how many are there in our galaxy? Not to mention the space between them all? Billions of galaxies too? It’s unfathomable. So what am I to that? I’m nothing.”

  Kundulu seemed to shimmer. “Untrue. There are many worlds, yes. And there are many stars, and the distance may as well be infinite, though it is not. Our solar system is tiny, but it can only exist because the universe is so large.”

  Elena blew smoke at him. “Stop talking crazy, Kundulu. All we are… are specks. If god exists, he’s not even gonna see our planet, never mind into our hearts. It'd be like me caring about a speck of dirt. Less, - a molecule! Why would he care? why should anyone care?”

  “The Universe is finite, God is infinite, and so the Universe is as a speck of dust to him. But he sees it all, he has no barriers of time or space. You are the same to him as the whole of Creation. He built everything from the same atoms.”

  “And that too. According to the theory, the Big Bang created the Universe in a split second. If he built everything from atoms, how could he...? He couldn't do that so quick.”

  “Time is relative. Infinity is outside of time. He can take, from his point of view, as long as he likes and it can take a billionth of a second in our time.”

  “This is all too much.”

  “Imagine your body. It is kept alive by countless numbers of bacterial cells. Each one of those bacteria are important to the running of the whole body. You are important to the running of the Universe.”

  Elena stared at the window and said nothing.

  Kundulu fazed in and out. “So you see, it is all for our benefit. The creator has gone to infinite lengths to ensure our creation and survival.”

  Then she was alone. “I still don't get it.”