The Ruins of Mars: Waking Titan (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy) (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

A god

From across the oceans and lands they came. Each day, the ships took to the skies only to return with more people. True to their word, the Travelers were assembling the scattered nomads of the Red World, bringing them together, ferrying them to the shores of the Great Northern Lakes.

In the beginning, frictions between the new arrivals and the peoples of Crescent City were high, for they did not share the same languages or cultural practices. The Travelers, however, quickly caught onto this problem before it could devolve into violence. They began laying their hands on the immigrants as they filed off the ships, imparting the full vocabulary of their new home into their minds as if they were simply reprogramming computers. The language of the Martian people soon became a hodgepodge of all the languages previously spoken throughout the planet.

Now, as far as Remus and Romulus could surmise, there were over one million Martians living along the banks and surrounding grasslands of Crescent City, most of them new to the area.

Building from designs given by the Travelers, the people constructed apartment-style domiciles, clustered together within a central network of streets.

By teaching their pupils about land usage and maximization of local resources, the Travelers encouraged the Martians to build
up
in order to save space for future projects. With the help of powerful technologies, which did little to dispel the notion that they were gods, the Travelers taught the people how to select, extract and shape the best rock for building.

Assembled into workforces that were trained for specific jobs, Martian craftsmen developed a familiarity with the strange metal apparatuses their gods had imbued with such power.

Beams of sophisticated heat lasers cut huge boulders into ribbons, which were then divided up amongst the countless projects. Small black boxes capable of levitating earth and rock helped to clear the way for new buildings.

The area surrounding Olo’s
Great Temple was paved with even slabs of flat rock and made into an airfield. Effectively shifting the heart of the city away from the canyon, this move allowed for further expansion along the riverbanks and grasslands.

Though restless and absent by day, the alien fleet returned each night—an hour before the sun went down—to begin teaching their pupils or aiding with affairs of governance.

Delegating the boy Kaab as his official voice, the seeming leader of the Travelers, a being whom the people called Yuvee, gently assumed control of the city. With large crowds gathered at his feet, Yuvee spoke every evening through Kaab’s dead features, subtly influencing his many devoted followers.

Sidelined by the amount of change and progress happening around her, Teo could only watch as the seed of her city grew into a towering tree she could hardly recognize. With minimal say in how operations were handled, she noticed despairingly that many of the new arrivals saw Kaab as a larger figure of authority than herself. Her son Ze, who had long been slotted to fill her role as Chief when she died, now held little sway with the masses. There was talk that Kaab had been chosen by the Gods to lead the people—that he was special. Though Teo worried, she did it silently, for she dared not dispute the will of the Great Spirits.

Olo, on the other hand, had little fear. To him, the progression of his dream was fast consuming his every waking moment. Spending days on end without sleep or food, the old wise man followed every word spoken by Yuvee as if his very soul depended on it.

Time passed.

Viviana—
Sol 83

Walking slowly down a row of metal troughs, Dr. Viviana Calise stopped periodically to stick the needle-sharp end of a watering wand into the brown gelatin that filled them. All around her, there was the blanket of moist fragrant air dashed with color from the many living plants. Red and yellow tomatoes hung near purple eggplants while long thin green beans swayed in an artificial breeze. Though the walls and floor were the milky color of transparent aluminum, warm orange sun lamps cast elegant spears of fiery light that played through the thin fibrous leaves of the growing garden.

Despite the beauty of her surroundings, Viviana regularly set down the watering wand to wipe her teary eyes dry as she made her rounds. Liu had been her friend—a kind and gentle companion who had never done anything to hurt anyone—and now she was dead. Just thinking of the poor girl tucked away in some storage crate in the adjacent base made Viviana feel sick.

She doesn't deserve the indignity. She should have a proper burial.

Everyone was hurting, Viviana could tell. In the days following the accident, people had taken to sulking around. Suddenly there weren’t enough movies, TV shows, or eBooks to fill the void Liu’s presence had left behind. Days dragged on and nights seemed to last forever. Worse yet, it wasn’t as if only one person had died that day.

Often, bringing Harrison plates of food, Viviana had caught glimpses of the way he looked—the way Liu’s death was affecting him. She’d thought that maybe if he could taste the beauty of the ripe vegetables, the honesty and goodness of their work on Mars, then he might join the rest of them for dinner. However, when the door to his lab slid open, her foolish hopes of healing were scattered like confetti in the wind, night after night.

His eyes were sunken and red. His teeth were bared like a fox’s
, and with one wordless grunt, he would take the plate of food and disappear.

Praying to Saint Anthony, she hoped that the boy was not truly a lost cause beyond all help.

A loud buzzing sound broke the quiet of the humid dome, and Viviana looked to the front where the airlock joined the decontamination room.

Due to the generally poisonous makeup of the Martian soil, any crew member hoping to enter the greenhouse first had to pass through the decontamination chamber. Therein, a combination of ultraviolet light and compressed air dislodged and neutralized any grains of Martian sand that might be stuck to the body or feet.

Swinging the heavy glass door open, Elizabeth Kubba walked into the muggy greenhouse.

“Hello,” said Viviana, plunking down the watering wand and making her way through the rows towards Kubba.

“Darling,” called the doctor, her face a mask of friendliness.

“I missed you last night,” Viviana smiled.

             
Embracing, the two exchanged kisses.

“Sorry I never made it to bed, love,” Kubba said with a sigh. “I was up with Braun trying to figure out how best to handle our little injured bird.”

Reluctantly, Viviana pulled her face away from Kubba’s neck and looked up into her face.

“He’s broken, you know. I’m worried for him.”

With a shake of her head, Kubba’s eyes grew distant and she seemed to focus on something far away at the other end of the greenhouse.

“Yes, well, he has suffered a terrible loss.”

Hugging closely to her lover again, Viviana nuzzled Kubba and murmured.

“I can’t even imagine. Has he come out of his lab yet today?”

“No, not yet,” replied Kubba, a frown etching itself across her mouth.

“Are you worried about him in there alone?”

“No, he’s never alone. None of us are.”

Stepping back, Viviana took Kubba’s slender brown hand and led her down a row of cherry tomatoes.

“Let’s talk about something less depressing,” she said, her watery eyes almost pleading.

“Those are some lovely snow peas,” offered Kubba, gesturing.

“They’ll be ready by next week!” chirped Viviana, her hand squeezing Kubba’s thankfully. “And when we have rice, we can make a stir fry with them.”

Nodding absently, Kubba fell silent and listened to Viviana describe an experimental method for growing rice with a new waste product she was developing.

As her partner talked, Kubba’s mind wandered to Harrison in his deeply shadowed lab. She had watched the recording of his latest conversation with Braun and seen the way he wanted to blame the AI for what had happened. He still knew nothing, she could tell. Yet this realization did not bring with it the relief she was hoping for. Instead, it only served to cut deeper the fact that she trying to hold up a house of cards in a windstorm.

He’ll figure it out someday, she thought.

‘Drift away,’
whispered Sabian Crisp maliciously.
Make him drift away, Elizabeth.

Kubba shivered.

“Are you alright?” asked Viviana, stopping to look closely at the tall doctor.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Kubba replied hastily, but her suddenly racing pulse said otherwise.

Where did
that
come from?

“You’re not trying to blame yourself, are you?” Viviana nearly whispered, taking Kubba’s chin in her hand. “Harrison knows better than anyone that poor Liu was dead long before you could even get to her. No one blames you.”

“It’s not that,” Kubba muttered, fishing for a way to shift the focus off of herself. “I just wish I could get him to come out of there, to join us for a dinner. We need him to see, I mean really see, that we all lost something that day. If he knew he wasn’t alone, maybe his sadness wouldn’t be so all-consuming. Does that make sense?”

“It’s true,” agreed Viviana with a sad nod. “Liu was all of our friend. Harrison paid the most but we’re all in mourning.”

As Viviana sniffled sadly, her eyes still tinged with the redness of crying, Kubba nearly shook with personal guilt. Trapped by it, she tried to thrust the feeling down but something resisted. A cage long-buried deep in her subconscious had finally broken open, and the trespasses of her youth were beginning to crawl up from the depths.

Crisp chuckled like dry leaves scraping around inside her skull.

Searching for a distraction, any distraction, Kubba drew Viviana into a hug and bent to kiss her pouting lips. The kiss unfolded past a simple act of comfort, drowned out the self-loathing in Kubba’s soul, and allowed a rush of desire to flood into her. Pulling away, Viviana turned and led Kubba to a small lab at the back of the greenhouse where she grew and pollinated her seedlings.

Nestled in a thick garden of bamboo, the lab was warm and heavy with the innocence of nature. Inside, the budding flowers of so many yearning plants became like a palpable presence in the room, watching the two lovers as they explored one another in the glow of the heat lamps.

Half-an-hour later, as they donned their pressure suits in the decontamination room, Kubba gazed through the glass walls at the rows of colorful vegetables and fruits. Happy and satisfied, she marveled at the array of life that her Viviana had cultivated. Looking to the rear of the dome—and the lab they had just shared—she smiled at the luscious bamboo garden. Tall and impenetrable, it grew along the entire length of the back wall, threatening to one day consume the little door to the lab if Viviana did not cut it back. Swaying to and fro, the stalks of leafy bamboo sighed audibly, creating a whispering conversation that seemed to discuss the most fundamental of topics.

‘Drift,’
came the voice of Sabian Crisp, intruding upon the serenity of the moment.

Kubba began to tremble.

“Are you alright?” asked Viviana, noticing the shift in her lover.

“Yes,” Kubba lied.

Feeling cold and utterly filled with guilt, she pressed her helmet down snugly over her head but the sound of Crisp’s voice could not be silenced. She had gotten what she wanted. Liu was no longer a threat to her career, and yet still she was plagued by dread. Memories of her hand in Crisp’s downfall swirled and mixed with those of the freshly dead Xao-Xing Liu. Haunted, she searched her mind for a way out of the prison she had constructed around herself.

‘
Drift away,’
came that chilling voice again.

I am not you, she said to the ghost of Sabian Crisp.

You’re right,
he replied.
You’re much, much worse.

Chapter Twelve

Washington, D.C.

Pressing his thumb to the wall-mounted Tablet outside his hotel room in Washington, D.C., James Floyd tried to slip quietly through the opening. As the door clicked locked behind him, he fumbled in the darkened foyer, searching the wall for a light switch.

“Don’t,” whispered his wife, emerging from the darkness. “The kids.”

Firmly taking his hand, she led him deftly through the cool room, past the twin beds where his daughters slept soundly, and out onto the balcony.

Sliding the glass door shut, she turned to him, her long blond hair wet from the shower she had evidently just taken.

“Two days, James,” she said, her blue eyes flashing in the nighttime glow of the National Mall. “It’s been two days without a single word. Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“I’m sorry, Nora,” he replied dumbly, loosening his tie. “I was at the White House the entire time. I haven’t slept yet. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No,” she exclaimed, clutching her elbows in a self-embrace. “When we were younger, you never would have done this. You would have called.”

“I couldn’t. I wasn’t even allowed to leave.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

Sighing, James dropped into a deck chair and ran his hands through his thinning hair.

“You know I can’t talk about it,” he said.

“I’m sorry, James,” replied Nora, pulling up a chair to sit across from him. “But that just won’t be enough. Not this time. Where were you?”

Looking at his wife as she waited for an explanation, James thought back to all the times he had let her down, feeding her half-truths or partial knowledge in some pointless attempt to keep her and the girls separate from his work life. He told himself h
e was doing it in the names of Security and Prudence, but really he knew he was really just protecting himself. He didn’t want Nora to know that her husband was a man who made hard choices. Choices that cost billions of dollars and even, sometimes, human lives.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you what I know, okay?”

Taking out his Tablet, he laid the flat screen faceup on the nearby coffee table.

“Jam frequency,” he said to the device.

The screen turned red for a moment then green, and suddenly, James felt the distinct absences of the other personalities who had been on the deck with him and Nora.

“What is that?” asked his wife, her head tipped towards the Tablet.

“It’s a new application the CIA gave me. It puts out a frequency that jams AI brainwaves.”

“So we’re alone?” Nora frowned, her shoulders drawing in slightly.

“Yes,” responded James. “No hotel AI, no Copernicus, and no Alexandria.”

“What’s going on, honey?” she said, leaning forward to place a delicate hand on his leg. “Why do you have applications that can disable AI? That’s spy stuff.”

“It’s a very long story,” replied James. “But it mostly boils down to the Chinese.”

“The Chinese? Why? Because of what happened to Dr. Liu?”

Placing his own hand on top of his wife’s, James smiled tiredly. “In part, but there’s more.”

“Like what?”

James leaned forward confidentially, scooting his chair closer to his wife. “Donovan has uncovered information pertaining to a secret Chinese Mars program.”

“A Mars program? But…why?”

Eyes fixed on the deep blue of his wife gaze, James lowered his voice. “There’s another ship, Nora. Launched some time ago from Earth orbit.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Nora whispered, “The Chinese have launched a team to Mars?

“Yes. Furthermore, because we’re just now piecing it all together, we don’t know exactly how long it will take to arrive. We’re searching with long-range detectors, but there’s a lot of
space
in space.”

“What
do
you know?”

Casting his eyes down, James shook his head.
“We know that they have been planning this for some time. They launched the ship in pieces from Earth then assembled them in a Low-Orbit Chinese Shipyard. We think—”

“Why didn’t Copernicus see any of this?” Nora interrupted. “Or Donovan? Why didn’t he know? I thought he saw everything.”

Donovan, the CIA’s premiere intelligence-gathering AI was a cryptically dangerous being. Having no qualms with invading privacy and even in extreme cases dispensing a human life, he was an asset to the United States and a scourge to the rest of the world.

Glancing at the Tablet on the tabletop, James grinned painfully.

“He can’t see what’s being blocked from his vision. None of them can. Ironically, we only now have this technology because a human spy stole it from the Chinese. Apparently, they’ve been using it for a while.”

“So, they have a ship,” his wife shrugged, a hopeful ex
pression on her face. “Big deal. What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s the crew, Nora,” James said. “They’re not scientists
or engineers. They’re soldiers. All of them.”

“Soldiers?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Twenty-five members of Chinese Special Forces. The ship looks like a modified Ark, similar to the one our team used to transport supplies, only this one has been built with the addition of life-support chambers. No galley or anything, just life-support chambers.”

“Are you talking about Extended S
pace Sleep?” Nora whispered.

“Looks like it.”
“But, isn’t that very dangerous?”

James nodded again and looked up into the night sky.

“What are they doing, James? Why the secrecy? Why the soldiers?”

Leaning forward until his lips brushed against the tender flesh of his wife’s right ear, James uttered the words, which a day before
had made his own blood run cold.

“They’re going to Mars to try and take
the Base.”

The mission at hand—
Sol 87

              Early in the morning, Ralph Marshall woke to the sad realization that he had been a bad friend. Dressing quickly, he moved through the still and muted Dome, making his way to Harrison’s lab. Though he
had
tried several times to break through to the young grieving Egyptian, Marshall knew in his heart of hearts that all of his attempts had been weak at best.

Unaware that Liu’s death would have had such an impact on him personally, Marshall chalked his poor performance as Harrison’s friend up to that. Now
, however, it was time for him to put aside whatever mourning he had for sweet innocent dead Liu and focus on Harrison. Sad angry alive Harrison.

             
The boy needs a friend, he thought as he climbed the stairs. Kicking and screaming if need be, I’m going to get him out of there because that’s what friends do.

             
Approaching the door to the lab, Marshall gathered himself up, put on a well-practiced crooked grin, and entered the room.

             
It was dark inside, almost to the point of debilitation, yet his eyes adjusted quickly—a gift from the Air Force.

             
“Indy, get up. We need to talk.”

             
In the shadows of the corner, he saw a pile of blankets shift slightly. Walking over to the cot, he sat down on the corner and slapped what he hoped was Harrisons leg.

             
“Up. Get up. Come on, let’s talk.”

             
“Go away, Ralph,” mumbled the pile.

             
Standing quickly, Marshall ripped the covers off in one violent motion.

             
“What the fuck?” shouted Harrison, his drawn face dark with stubble.

             
“Yeah, yeah,” taunted Marshall. “If you want to take a swing at me, you’ll have to get up first.”

             
Folding the blanket as he walked, Marshall strode across the lab to the entrance and turned on the lights.

Hands thrust up to his eyes, Harrison swore loudly.

              “Come on,” said Marshall, placing the folded blanket on a chair. “Up.”

             
“What do you want?” demanded Harrison, his hands still covering his face.

             
“I want what you want, but both of us know that this isn’t the way to get it.”

             
Snorting, Harrison pulled himself up and half-staggered across the lab to the tabletop lined with pill bottles.

             
“No,” warned Marshall, a hardness creeping into his eyes. “Leave the pills. They don’t help anyways.”             

             
His hand hovering above one of the bottles, Harrison seemed to consider this for a moment before scooping up the canister and popping off the top with a thumb. Sliding across the space between them like a shadow, Marshall snatched the bottle from his friend and dumped its contents on the floor.

             
“What the fu—” Harrison started, but Marshall was on him, hands strong as he twisted the younger man’s arms behind his back.

             
“Marshall, what the hell?” protested Harrison as the pilot marched him across the room to a chair.             

             
“I said we needed to talk and that’s what we’re doing, but I’m not going to try and talk to you when you’ve been taking those damn pills. Here, sit down.”

             
Releasing Harrison from the arm hold, Marshall gestured for him to take a seat.

Harrison shot the older man a sour look then dropped into the chair, rubbing his elbow.

              “Okay, fine. Talk.”

             
Taking a few steps back, Marshall leaned against the wall and was quiet for several moments.

Finally, he spoke. “I haven’t told you much about my time in the UN Peacekeepers
, have I?”

Not looking up, Harrison shrugged.

“Well,” continued Marshall. “I was on loan to the UN from the Air Force. It was mostly pretty easy. I flew rescue jets during the Korean land grab. You know, civilian relief and protection—all that good stuff. Anyways, there was this one city. Mind you, calling it a city is a pretty generous description, but that’s beside the point. Najin was its name. Right, so we get this call early one morning that there is some kind of attack taking place there, so the soldiers suit up, and we rescue pilots get ready to respond if word of heavy civilian casualties are reported. About an hour after the ground troops leave the Base, we start getting all kinds of calls for help, evacuations actually. Civilian and military.”

Pausing, Marshall smiled slightly.

“It’s funny because at the time, our commanding officer wasn’t sure if we were allowed to interfere with military operations, being Peacekeepers and all. Jackass. Anyways, finally we get the go-ahead and take off. Leaving from just outside Seoul it takes us a little under fifteen minutes to reach Najin. When we get to the city limits, it’s clear from the get-go that some kind of massive assault has taken place. There are fires everywhere. The whole place looks like it’s just been doused in gasoline. Emergency Beacons are going off all over but the GPS has their locations mostly in the areas that are burning up. Trying to do thermal scans for survivors is useless so we start following the Beacons that are out of the burn zone. Now, Najin is right on the coast: a seaside city. Quite a few Beacons are coming from the shoreline or in the bay, so we figure that the UN soldiers must have moved as many people as they could out of the burning city and towards the water. Well, that’s kind of what happened.”

Stopping, Marshall looked down at Harrison.

“I know you think Braun killed Liu.”

As if slapped, Harrison jolted in his seat.

“What?”

“You heard what I said. You’ve have been up here in seclusion because you think Braun killed Liu. Well, you’re technically not wrong but you aren’t all the way right either. What Braun did was an accident.”

“What the difference?” spat Harrison. “She’s still dead.”

“The difference?” Marshall smiled sadly. “The difference is in the details, my friend. When we got to that beach, even from a few hundred feet up, we could see the blood. Blood in the water, blood on the sand. It was more blood than I’ve ever seen in my life. There were so many bodies on the shore and in the water that we couldn’t tell the dead from the dying. One of my friends, a nice guy named Dixon, pulls in and attempts a landing. Pow! Out of nowhere, a rocket comes screaming
out
of the burning city and just takes his ass out. Dead. Burning wreckage man.

Next thing we know, more rockets are flying out of the blaze, and it’s all we can do to keep f
rom getting hit. Left and right, guys I know—
Peacekeepers
in rescue jets—are being shot down. It’s like whoever is attacking us
knows
what we’re going to go next. I bank right, there’s a rocket on an intercept course waiting for me, I bank left, pull up, same thing. They’re leading shots like they can read our minds! And that’s when I see them: the robots. They come crawling out of the burning city, all charred and blackened, guns blazing.