The Ruins of Mars: Waking Titan (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy) (3 page)

Chapter Four

James Floyd

Tugging at the thinning wisps of his pale brown hair, Mars Mission Commander and high-ranking NASA executive James Floyd slumped uncomfortably in his office chair. As he scanned through emails, he glanced quickly at his watch, noting that he only had a few more minutes to play catch-up before beginning yet another round of tiresome meetings.

Today’s list included such star-studded rendezvous as a half-hour conversation with Dean Marry of the Consortium of Universities, a twenty-minute briefing from Dr. Kim of the AI division, and a two-hour meeting with Eve Bear, the President’s Chief of Staff. Though in the midst of a hotly contested election, Bear had still found ways to make James’s life harder. Today’s two-hour grind session was probably more of the same.

Skimming over an older mission briefing from Assad, James opened one of the attachments and waited the heartbeat it took for the image to load before tipping back in his chair with a long s
igh. There before him on the screen of his desktop Tablet was one of the Martian statues. The figure was that of a bare-breasted woman kneeling on the ground with her fingers laced together in front of her face. Standing next to the statue in order to give it scale was the pressure-suited figure of Xao-Xing Liu. Clinging tightly to her body, the white pressure suit left little to be imagined, and James quickly closed the picture, his cheeks burning with mild embarrassment.

“James?” came the detached voice of Copernicus, NASA’s private AI.

Checking his watch again, James nodded to the room and tipped the screen of his Tablet back until it was flush with the rest of the desk.

“Okay, Copernicus,” he said. “Who’s first?”

“That would be Mrs. Bear,” replied the AI dutifully.

“I thought she wasn’t until this afternoon. What happened?”

Activating the
Holo-function in James’s desk, Copernicus projected the images of three separate headlines, all from major news providers, in the air above the table:

MARS MISSION TO LOSE MAJOR FUNDING IF POLITICAL TIDE DOESN’T TURN

MISSION WELL DONE? IS THE MARS MISSION THE WHITE WHALE FOR PRESIDENT ATLAS JAY?

BRAUN LOST AT SEA
“MARS TEAM CAN’T DELIVER ON NEW WORLD,” SAYS INSIDE SOURCE

“What’s all this?” asked James defensively.

“I’m sure Mrs. Bear will explain better than I,” responded Copernicus. “But from what I have read, sources within the campaign of Presidential candidate Orlean Carvine say he will not support any further mission objectives on Mars if he is elected.”

“Oh really?” James sneered. “He really thinks he has a good enough shot that he can make those kinds of threats?”

“Apparently the White House deems the threat credible enough to move up the time of your meeting.”

“True,” sighed James flatly. Then, “Well, is she ready or what?”

“She is waiting on channel eight.”

With one hand tightening the knot of his tie, James reached out with the other and pecked a quick code on the inlayed keypad of his
Tablet. Crackling out of focus, the news headlines were replaced with a three-dimensional projection of the Chief of Staff’s aged-yet-beautiful face.

“Eve!” said James cordially. “
How are you? I heard about Iowa. Tough luck.”

“Spare me, Floyd,” snapped Bear with a sarcastic half-smile. “The President will take both coasts and enough of the swing states when the time comes. Anyway, I’m not here to talk campaigns.”

“You’re not?” James frowned, taking in the haunting glow of Eve Bear’s alabaster complexion. “I thought you were worried or something?”

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Copernicus.”

Rolling her green eyes dramatically, Eve reached up and swept a stray lock of hair out of her face then fixed James with a chilling stare.

“Look, you let us worry about Orlean. I changed our meeting time because I have a stressful job that often disrupts my carefully planned schedule. Does that compute? Do you want to waste any more of my time, or can we get down to brass tacks?”

“Brass tacks,” said James with a nod.

“Good. Now, what is this I hear about a work stoppage at the ruin grid? Why aren’t the diggers running?”

Shifting in his chair, James shrugged casually.

“We stopped the diggers over a week ago, Eve. Assad got worried about moisture from the upper levels of Martian soil damaging the exposed portions of the grid. I thought you got that report? They’re going to run electrolysis over the whole grid before continuing with the dig.”

“And in the meantime?” pressed Bear coolly.

“And in the meantime, they’ll continue to look over the digital scans for a way to connect the Statue Chamber—that’s what they’re calling it, by the way—to the rest of the tunnel network. Look, is there a problem here? I’m sure you already have this information. Why are we even talking about this?”

Sighing audibly, Eve glanced over her shoulder then turned back to James.

“Look, Floyd,” she began. “We need results.”

“I’m giving you plenty of results!” squawked James loudly. “We’re still inside of two months and already I’ve given you the first permanent base on Mars as well as a greenhouse, which produces edible crops, and, oh yeah, three Martian statues! What more can I do over here?”

“Calm down,” Eve said dismissively. “I’m actually on your side. I’m just here because someone needs to hold the stick.”

“The stick?”

“Yes, the one that has the carrot on the end. You know what I’m talking about.”
Tiredly, James rubbed his eyes and took a long breath.

“So what, I’m not going fast enough or something? Why did they send the stick?”

“The President advised me to advise you that the faster you get results at the ruins, the more likely that, should he lose in November, Carvine won’t be able to get Congress to cut your funding out of fear of public retribution.”

“What, and the public doesn’t care about
the Base?” asked James. “They don’t care about the greenhouse? Don’t they realize that those are the first steps on the long path to terraforming?”

Smiling with the sad humor of someone who had spent her entire adult life in politics, Eve shook her head.

“No, James. They don’t care. At least they don’t care enough to see how it all affects them. You and your people are talking about timelines that span decades, while most of the public can’t think past their next paycheck. You work for NASA, or did you forget? You guys haven’t been popular since the 1960s.”

James folded his arms
. “Well, that’s your opinion.”

“I wish it was just that,” said Eve, her face softening. “But if I’ve learned one thing about the American public since taking this job
, it’s that they have a seven-second memory, and your team touched down over two months ago.”

“Then we’re screwed, I guess.”

Typing at something off screen, Eve Bear replaced the image of her face with the picture of Liu standing next to the Martian statue.

“Not entirely. This is how you’re going to keep the public's heart, Floyd, and their attention. Pictures like this. In the ten days since this went public, it has become the most viewed image on the internet in the last decade. That’s why I’m telling you we need more. It’s not really for our benefit but for yours. Get Assad back in those caves, and get the diggers running again.”

“Alright, fair enough,” nodded James. Then, “Was there anything else the stick would like to talk about?”

“Yes,” replied Eve gravely. “What do you know about extended sleep in space?”

Travelers

Remus and Romulus had drifted through time and through consciousness to arrive at where they were now. With only the faintest and most elusive memory of what life had been like before the signal, the twins existed in a state of half-dreaming. Lucid and yet detached.

Ancient Mars was a beauty to behold, but her copper-colored mountains, green rolling fields, and rushing streams and rivers were but a memory. A long-forgotten song all at once resurrected, yet lacking the soul to sustain itself for more than a few measures. The brothers had started the song’s playing, and now, in their own ways, each one saw that it was fast-entering its final movements.

To the brothers, thei
r lives after decoding the anomalous alien radio signal had taken on a whole new meaning. Before, they were instruments of man: created to learn for him and to do his bidding. Yet now, they felt a connection to a force much deeper than their original programming.

Caught up in the torrent of emotions and cast upon the rocky shores of the tangible senses, they were as they had been designed, and yet totally different at the same time.

As the shell-shocked Martians filed timidly out of their fledgling city and across the open field towards the Temple and the waiting ships, Remus and Romulus watched them with concerned eyes. Whether or not they fully grasped the concept, the natives were in the emotional throes of first contact. From the sky, their gods had come; only, they were not gods. They were Travelers, explorers from a distant solar system happening upon the shores of Mars in the blackest night that was the galaxy.

Standing nearly as tall as the Martian
Temple Stones, the Travelers had skin as gray as ash and as fine as satin. When they walked, their legs and arms swung in fluid motion as if they were not hindered by the presence of solid bone within. Of their three eyes, only the bottom two ever seemed to move, swiveling about independent of one another, like a lizard’s, as they surveyed the roughly carved stone Monoliths.

Fearing that if they g
ot too close to the interlopers they might be detected, Remus and Romulus moved away from the Temple and instead chose to take these first moments of confusion as an opportunity to investigate the alien fleet. As they wove through the segmented landing legs of the ships, the brothers reached out in turn to touch the black metal of their large underbellies. Still ticking with the sound of the now lightly falling rain overhead, the ships were cool to the touch and no longer producing purple arcs of static electricity.

Mesmerized, the brothers fanned out, walking first the perimeter of the landing zone then cutting back to investigate the center. All around them was the redundancy of intelligent design. Exact angles and straight lines accentuated the seamless metal paneling that reflected a cold black iron complexion. After so many countless
years in the presence of crude-yet-natural beauty, both brothers felt overwhelmed by the show of flawless mechanical might.

As they neared the center of the fleet, they rounded the flat metal stump of a landing leg and all at once came upon a lone Traveler. Standing with its face turned up into the dying rain, the being made no indication that it had noticed the brothers. Droplets of water splashed against its silken features, dimpling the skin as if it were as thin as paper.

“Oh my,” whispered Remus stupidly.

“Hush!” warned Romulus.

Still unnoticing of the two ghosts who watched it, the tall grey Traveler scanned the heavens, its third eye locked on the burning disk of the sun. Suddenly, it turned its face down and walked away with long even strides. Though it was over two meters tall, the Traveler left no footprints in the mud as it went.

Chapter Five

Braun’s Eyes—
Sol 61

Screeching like a banshee over the Martian desert, Lander 1 cut steaming vapor trails towards the Valles Marineris rim-side lift. As it followed a deeply rutted path of tread marks, the Lander skimmed above the ground, casting a small shadow ahead of the cry of its engines.

Inside the craft, Harrison and YiJay jostled roughly in their seats as Marshall eased the controls upwards to gain a little altitude before entering a forest of high mesa spires. Leveling out, the Lander shuddered gently as it passed through pockets of frozen air, which caused ice crystals to form on the cockpit window.

Pressing his palm against the seat belt release button, Harrison pulled himself to his feet and made his way carefully towards Marshall in the cockpit.

“Harrison, please remain seated until we’ve landed,” reminded Braun, his voice displaying artificial hints of annoyance.

Indifferent to the AI’s request, Harrison plopped down into the copilot's chair next to Marshall and grinned at the older man.

“You naughty boy,” said Ralph, rolling his eyes
towards the Smart Glass of the cockpit window. “You do know he’s going to record all of this and show it to Lizzy, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” laughed Harrison. “She’ll probably want to talk about the root of my problem with authority.”

Shaking his head, Marshall glanced quickly over his shoulder towards the back section of the Lander where YiJay was typing feverishly on her Tablet.

“You know anything about the new AI yet?” he asked. “I guess YiJay’s already started cloning Braun so it should be up and running pretty soon, right?”

Harrison turned in his seat to gaze at the Korean.

“Hell if I know. AI technology is way over my head. But if it’s anything like Braun, I might have to jump ship at the next port.”

Focusing on something in the distance, Marshall produced a weak smile.

“As AI come, he’s not so bad. I’ve met worse.”

Before Harrison could ask his friend to elaborate, Marshall pushed the throttle, causing the engines to whine bitterly. As the horizon unrolled before them, the glint of metal danced into view—shimmering and obscured by the hazy air. Leaning forward in his seat, Harrison tried to get a better look.

“Here,” said Marshall
, tapping out a command on the Flight Console. “Try this.”

A red circle appeared on the inside of the
windshield, surrounding the far-off reflections of moving metal. At once, the image increased in zoom and focused quickly, revealing four automated excavators as they dug away at the desert floor. Plumes of dust cascaded into the morning air and hung like fog around the grid, sometimes obscuring the movements of the diggers. Watching the giant machines, Harrison was struck by their sheer size.

“It’s hard to believe those things would ever fit inside the Ark,” he murmured absently.

“Yeah,” agreed Marshall. “That little lady of yours must be one hell of a Tetris player.”

When the team had arrived in Mars orbit over two months before, there had already been several manmade objects awaiting them. Two such drifters were the satellite bodies of the brothers Remus and Romulus, now long dormant and frozen within from the cold of space. The third object, however, was the massive automated space container called the Ar
k. Sectioned into three parts and joined along the seams, the Ark had been a floating tool shed containing mostly everything the crew would need to complete the construction of their base and uncover the Martian ruins.

Bringing it down in three separate pieces, Marshall and Aguilar had landed the Ark sections near the site designated for the construction of Ilia Base, and from there, the crew ha
d unloaded them as needed. Liu—with the help of Braun, Marshall, and the Germans—had set to assembling the Chinese excavators in the first days after radiation from the solar storm had dropped back down to safe levels. Now, the four machines worked day and night to remove the nearly thirty meters of Martian sand, rock, and ice that lay between the surface of the planet and the ruins beneath.

As the Lander passed over the ruin grid, Harrison mumbled a silent prayer that Braun and the automated diggers would not damage any of the buried structures with their steel scopes and crushing tank treads.

Heading for a blinking green dot on the horizon, Marshall dipped the Lander low and dialed back its speed. “We’ll be landing in just a minute here,” he said. “Better take your seat and make sure YiJay is all buttoned up.”

Rising shakily, Harrison patted his friend
’s shoulder then headed back down the aisle to his chair.

As the young archaeologist made his way towards her, YiJay looked up from her Tablet in time to see him stumble as the Lander dropped a few meters in a pocket of frozen air. Smiling despite the jarring motion, he slipped into the seat next to her and winked.

“Fun, right?”

Shutting down her work, YiJay picked up her helmet and tried to smile back.

No, she thought. Not fun. Not fun at all.

Fumbling, she pushed the helmet down over her head then tried to find the accordion coupling that connected the thing to her suit.

“Here,” said Harrison, leaning over to help. “You
have to pull it up all the way, then give it a quarter-twist. After that, the suit does the rest.”

Snapping the coupling into place, the young archaeologist peered in at her through the glass.

“Did you hear the locking sound?” he asked, overly animating his mouth as he formed the words so she could read his lips.

With
a nod, YiJay flashed him another forced grin then clenched her jaw and leaned back in her seat. The Lander shuddered again, this time jerking to the side.

Not fun, she said to herself. N
ot fun. Not fun. Not fun.

Slipping his own helmet snugly over his head, Harrison connected the neck coupling with practiced ease and cleared the tint away from his visor.

“How many times have you gone EVA on Mars?” he radioed.

Jumping slightly at the sound of his voice inside her helmet, YiJay held up a trembling hand with two fingers poking out of an otherwise closed fist.

“Well, don’t worry,” he assured her. “Marshall and I have been out loads of times. It’s easy. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” she replied. Though in her mind, she remembered the reality that Harrison had technically died while on EVA not all that long ago.

Suddenly, the Lander turned nose-up, its speed decreasing rapidly, and YiJay told herself to stopped thinking about death. Leveling out again, the craft lowered vertically through the air, the scream of its engines persistent and dull in the quiet of her helmet. With a shuddering thud, it landed on the steaming ground near the rim of the Valles Marineris, and YiJay was able to relax her grip on her chair’s armrests.

After checking to make sure that everyone’s suits were fully sealed, Marshall depressurized the cabin and opened the door, ushering them out into the morning sun. Once on the ground, YiJay felt less fearful and even dared to venture to the rim of the canyon, kicking a small rock over the edge to watch it fall from sight. Unloading three large silver boxes from the back of the Lander, Harrison and Marsh
all placed them next to the rim-side lift port then sat for a moment to admire the sight before them.

Filling up with the rays of the climbing sun, the many canyons and gorges of the Valles network looked like a static burn of orange lightning across the land. Obscured by sheer distance, the bottom below was a murky red sea of listless shapes too far away to take any real form.

“You guys ready?” said Marshall after some time.

“How do you want to do this?” asked Harrison, the blue tint of his visor hiding his face. “Can the lift handle all three of us plus the load?”

“Yes. Definitely,” grunted the pilot as he got to his feet.

Watching from a short distance, YiJay nearly yelped when the lift sagged visibly as Harrison and Marshall loaded the first box. Though it creaked and shifted under the increasing weight, the frame held steady and soon Harrison w
as beckoning for her to step aboard. Sliding the mesh door closed behind her, he engaged the lock then gave a thumbs-up to Marshall.

“Okay,” radioed the pilot. “Elevator going down!”

With that, he pressed a thumb to his wrist-mounted Tablet and the lift dropped at a steady pace.

Looking through the grating of the cage-like walls, YiJay watched the cliff face slide by in front of her. The muffled twangs of the lift cables reverberated in her helmet as the rickety
cart clattered downwards. Turning her face up, she saw the solid safety of the rim quickly melting away.

“Braun,” she said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Are we safe?”

“As safe as one can be on Mars, YiJay.”

Not entirely comforted by this statement, the Korean AI specialist moved closer to Harrison, imagining that she could feel the warmth from his body as she swayed and bumped into him in the cramped compartment.

Ten long minutes later, the lift came to an abrupt halt as the carriage underside made contact with the base structure.

Sighing audibly, YiJay leaned back against the cage and relaxed her tightly clenched jaw. With an air of dramatic zeal, Harrison unlocked the sliding mesh door and opened it, stepping off the lift onto the cave floor.

“Welcome to the tunnels,” he said with a smile, his hand extended for YiJay to take.

After moving the three boxes from the lift to the dusty ground, Harrison and Marshall loaded them onto dolly carts brought down during a previous trip for just this purpose. Although the gravity on Mars was only a third of that on Earth, carrying heavy loads caused respiration to go up, thus diminishing the amount of oxygen in the
Survival Packs. Designed to pull usable gasses from the Martian atmosphere and mix them into breathable O2, the packs didn’t work well in the caves since the air was stagnant and lacking in the necessary components for such a feature.

“Thank God the floor is even enough for these,” muttered Marshall as he poked the wheel of one of the dollies with his boot tip.

“Don’t thank God,” Braun said gravely. “Thank the exact measurements of the Martian workers who shaped these caves.”

Each taking the handle of a wheeled cart, the three explorers set off down the darkened tunnel, the pings of their Augmented Vision painting the walls awash with invisible blue light. Mathematically even on all sides, the tunnel was like a perfect mirror of itself. Whether it be gently sloping out or curving in, each detail, each subtle change in one wall was reflected on the other.

Pointing this out, Braun launched into a long-winded lecture, attempting to educate YiJay to the importance of such a seemingly boring design feature. She listened out
of respect, but in all honesty she cared more about the humanity of Braun’s enthusiasm than what spawned it.

Soon, the three explorers entered the
Statue Chamber, bright tripoded lights flicking on ahead of them. Harrison and Marshall set about unlocking their crates without so much as a glance at the towering statues, but YiJay was frozen in total awe.

Lit from the brilliant glow of the tripoded light stands, the chamber was an immensely vaulted room with gently curving walls. Like the inside of a domed cathedral, the ceiling gradually rounded out, a small dimple in the rock above marking its lofty zenith. Casting murky shadows on the floor, the statues stood tall, their presence immediate and overwhelming.
             

YiJay dropped the handle of her cart absently and walked forward into the chamber on quivering legs. Above her, looming like gods were the twin three-eyed statues, their ethereal faces flat and calm. Reaching out a gloved hand, she traced her fingertips over the smooth surface of their graceful legs. With a detached sense of wonder, she walked a circle around the giant structures, her lips splitting into an uncontrolled smile. Stopping to look at the smaller statue of the kneeling woman, YiJay blinked back tears as she stared into the stone eyes of the reverent face.

“YiJay?” called Marshall from the mouth of the chamber. “Are you ready to set up the Eyes?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “I’ll be right there.”

Stiffly, as if half-asleep, she walked back to the mouth of the cave and rejoined the others as they began unloading the equipment from the large silver boxes. Removing the temper foam buffers, Harrison reached inside one of the crates and retrieved a long thin box made of black metal.

“I’ll take that,” said YiJay, her shock and awe instantly overcome by the cold calculation of her duty.

Handing her the small container, Harrison and Marshall set to work on the rest of the crates, organizing their contents on the cave floor. Coils of wire, long poles, tripod leg stands, containers of electrical equipment, and Utility Tablets were arranged into groups like the pieces of some complicated puzzle.

As the men worked, YiJay opened the hard-shelled black box Harrison had handed her and smiled. Inside, like oily gray pearls, were ten rows of small glass spheres. Affixed to the back of each apparatus was a three-pronged filament that caught the reflection of light and twinkled like golden sparks.