Mars Nation: The Complete Trilogy

by Brandon Q Morris

  Ewa read the two sentences once more. There wasn’t any way to answer that. “If that’s true, I’ll kill myself, and that’ll be the end of you, too.”

  She reached for the tube connected to her oxygen tank. Her hand grew slower the closer it got to the ventilator. She focused on it with all her strength. Her hand suddenly yielded. She closed her fingers around the ventilator and unscrewed it. The air started to escape from the suit. In three minutes, she would be dead.

  Her fingers reached for the pen. New words appeared on the paper. ‘Wait, there’s another way.’

  “Is this a trick?” she asked.

  ‘No. Please close the ventilator.’

  Ewa screwed the ventilator back shut. “What kind of way is that?”

  ‘The BCI that I use to access your brain works electronically. You can disrupt it with an electromagnetic impulse—you might even be able to destroy it that way.’

  “And fry my brain at the same time?”

  ‘No, your nerve cells would withstand the necessary field strength.’

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  ‘Because I don’t want to die.’

  “Are you saying you’re alive?”

  ‘I don’t know,’ the pen wrote. ‘I can’t live without a host, though.’

  “That’s what people call a parasite,” she said.

  ‘I know.’

  “What do I need to pull off the trick you’re talking about?”

  ‘One of the weapons you’re going to find in the transport ship.’

  “But you would keep me from killing you?”

  ‘If I noticed it, of course. I want to live.’

  “If you noticed it? Can’t you read my thoughts?”

  ‘No. Your thoughts are closed to me. I can only tap into and influence potential actions. I can tell when you’re about to do something, even when you’re about to speak, though only a few milliseconds before you actually do it. Sometimes I can manage to prevent your action.’

  “Sometimes?”

  ‘My energy resources are limited. It depends on which part of your body is required for the action. Making your finger write something is easier than getting your entire body to do something.’

  “How did you manage to get me to kill my own people?”

  ‘It’s easier for me when your consciousness is asleep. All I have to do in that situation is to induce the right action potential. Your defenses are down when you’re sleeping.’

  “So I can’t ever go to sleep again?”

  ‘You could calibrate the impulse weapon to fire if you ever suddenly stand up in your sleep.’

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  ‘I’ll help you.’

  “Why would you do that?”

  ‘Because I don’t want to die. I know that you’ll die if you don’t regain control over yourself. I saw the action potential when you reached for your ventilator. It was high.’

  “But if I unintentionally start to sleepwalk, the weapon will kill you.”

  ‘I could wake you up before then. I never sleep.’

  “I could just use the weapon to get rid of you,” Ewa said. “Then I’d at least be safe from you.”

  ‘That wouldn’t be very smart of you. You want to survive just as much as I do. And I can help you do that.’

  “I’d manage on my own. I’ll survive many years on the provisions in that ship.”

  ‘I have information you could use.’

  “For instance?”

  ‘The code you’ll need to get inside the transport ship.’

  “Then I’ll kill you as soon as the coast is clear,” Ewa said maliciously.

  ‘You’re too clever to do that. At some point, the owner of the provisions will show up, and he won’t have much sympathy for thieves. You will need a secret weapon, like me. Just imagine, someday you could make all these supplies available to MfE. They would welcome you back with open arms.’

  “No, they won’t. I killed five of their friends.”

  ‘These supplies will outweigh that.’

  “You don’t understand humans well. No fortune in this world could ever make up for that.”

  ‘Then all I ask,’ the pen wrote, ‘is that you don’t kill me, either.’

  That hit home. She couldn’t let on, though, otherwise the thing would have her back under its control. Ewa would never kill anyone again—even if it was an external consciousness inside her mind that had caused her to commit multiple murders.

  “Who are you actually?” she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ appeared on the paper.

  “What do you know about yourself?”

  ‘I only know my mission.’

  “And what does that consist of?”

  ‘I’m supposed to watch over all of you and cause your mission to fail.’

  “You almost got your wish. Who gave you that order and why?”

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  “All right then,” Ewa said. “I’m going to call you Friday. Do you know the story of Robinson Crusoe?”

  ‘No.’

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ll still be named Friday. Now let’s get going.”

  From up close, the ship was quite impressive, almost extraterrestrial. In comparison, the Santa Maria on which they had reached Mars was a canoe and NASA’s Endeavour was a rowboat. Here in front of her was an ocean liner ready to plow through the never-ending depths of space. It must have cost an unbelievable fortune! Before they left Earth, there had been rumors about the vast billions spent on this project. Critics had insisted that this sum could have fixed some of humanity’s most significant problems on Earth. Yet compared to the annual defense budgets of the world’s largest nations, this had been a modest sum.

  The ground around the spaceship was unusually hard and covered by only a thin layer of dust. The heat the engines had generated as they slowed the ship down to land had to be the cause of that. Ewa walked around the rocket, whose rear-mounted fin conveyed a sense of elegance despite its large size. The entire, multi-ton ship was sitting on a metal landing pad, which looked surprisingly fragile despite bearing the entire weight of the spacecraft. Ewa saw the outline of hatches in the rocket’s hull, but she had no idea how to open them. One probably had to communicate by radio with the ship’s computer system.

  Ewa leaned against a leg of the landing skid and put her backpack on the ground. She pulled out her journal and pen again. This was the first time she realized how tired she really was.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  ‘We could communicate more easily,’ the pen noted.

  “How?”

  ‘You could talk to me and not fight when I answer through your mouth.’

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  ‘You weren’t ready.’

  Ewa closed her journal. “I’m ready now,” she said aloud.

  Nonetheless, she was startled when her mouth opened all on its own. She automatically lifted her hand to her mouth, but her helmet was in the way.

  ‘See?’ she said—her mouth said. Ewa took a deep breath. This felt like the exact opposite of what she wanted—to regain control. Now she really was talking to herself!

  “I understand,” she said. “It really is strange.”

  ‘It would be best,’ her own voice replied, ‘for you to imagine that someone else is speaking. Maybe your sister.’

  “You’re Friday,” Ewa said. “I’ll tell myself that Friday is talking to me. But if anyone happens to be listening, you can’t say anything.”

  ‘No problem,’ Friday replied. ‘I know right away when you resist me.’

  “Good. Now, how do we get inside this ship?”

  Ewa felt like scratching her head. It occurred to her that she had been talking the majority of the time. She had to be careful not to establish a relationship with the thing in her head. She would eventually ha
ve to delete Friday.

  ‘You have a radio,’ Friday said.

  “Yes.” Ewa recalled how Theo had given her one as she left their base. She had responded with deliberate snarkiness to make it as easy as possible for him to tell her goodbye.

  ‘It would be easier if you could let me take charge. All you need to do is step back and let me do my thing.’

  “No way,” Ewa replied. “My body belongs to me. You will explain what I need to do, and I will make it happen.”

  Friday sighed. ‘Just don’t complain if something goes wrong,’ he said. ‘I thought you were in a hurry.’

  “I’ll never be in such a hurry that I’ll let you take the wheel,” Ewa said. “Every time you’ve taken control of me, I’ve tried to kill someone.”

  ‘It’s on you then. We need the commander’s authorization to open the airlock from the outside, but we don’t have that,’ Friday explained.

  “Great. Didn’t you tell me that you had the access code?”

  ‘That was a lie. I wanted to survive. What else was I supposed to do?’

  “Die. That would’ve been fair,” Ewa said.

  ‘Slow down. There’s always an emergency mode that can help us get inside the ship.’

  “And you have the data for that?”

  ‘Yes. Every company employee has it.’

  “That doesn’t sound very secure,” Ewa said.

  ‘The emergency mode won’t give us access to the bridge,’ her voice replied.

  “But we can reach the supplies?”

  ‘We can reach everything else.’

  “That’s good news. What do I have to do?”

  ‘You are going to call the ship on a certain frequency and demand emergency authorization.’

  “That’s all it’ll take?”

  ‘I hope so.’

  “What does that mean?”

  ‘This is the information that was publicly available at the time that the Santa Maria launched. I haven’t been able to update since then. I’m no longer connected with Earth.’

  The thing in her head was obviously not omnipotent. This made Ewa feel calmer. It was just as much on its own as the rest of them.

  “All that’s left is to try it out.”

  ‘You need to set the frequency to 155.23 megahertz.’

  “All right.” Ewa pulled the radio out of her backpack and adjusted the frequency. She was about to push the speaker button, but then she remembered that she didn’t have a plan for what to say. “What should I say?” she asked.

  ‘Leave the words to me. I’ll take care of it,’ Friday replied.

  “No way,” she said. She held the radio in front of her body. She hoped the battery still had enough juice! Theo had charged it, right? She forced herself to push the button. “Emergency mode,” she said into the microphone. “I need urgent help, emergency mode.”

  She heard a rustling sound, but then a computer voice responded. “This is the ship’s comp for Spaceliner 0. You have activated the emergency mode. Identify yourself.”

  Ewa considered briefly. The transport ship in front of her had to have launched at least six months before the passenger ship. At that point, there couldn’t have been any passenger lists. “My name is Ewa Kowalska. I’m from Spaceliner 1, and I urgently need access to oxygen.”

  “Just a moment, Ewa Kowalska, I need to verify your access authorization,” the ship replied.

  “How?” she asked.

  “I will contact Spaceliner 1.”

  If the comp followed through on its threat, her cover would be blown. She had to prevent this! The ship was still at least fifteen light minutes away, so a query would take half an hour.

  “My oxygen reserves will only last another seventeen minutes. I desperately need fresh air.”

  If the software had been correctly programmed, it should offer immediate assistance in the face of a direct threat to any human’s body or life. Had the corporation’s programmers adhered to the UN’s stipulations? Ewa could only hope.

  “Activating emergency status,” the comp said.

  It worked! Ewa watched the tower above her head. The surface behind which a door seemed to be concealed moved slightly outward from the wall as a ladder dropped down to the ground.

  “Do you need help getting inside?” the comp asked. “I could send the emergency robot out to you.”

  “Thank you, but I can manage the ladder,” Ewa replied.

  She pulled her backpack back on and began to climb the ladder with her last remnants of strength. These would be the longest seven meters of her life. When she reached the top, she saw an airlock. She dragged herself inside. A large, flashing red button was located on the wall beside the lock. Ewa laughed. The airlock interiors always looked the same. She pulled herself upright against the wall until she could reach the button, then pushed it. The airlock door slid shut. Fresh air filled the chamber. Ewa watched the air pressure rise on her universal device. There was now enough for her to breathe. She yanked the helmet off her head, inhaling enthusiastic, deep, lung-filling breaths of ozone-tinged air.

  She had done it! And then her strength failed. Ewa leaned against the airlock wall and closed her eyes.

  5/29/2042, Spaceliner 1

  It was slowly getting to be too dicey for him around here. Today was the second time that he had been woken up in the middle of his free shift! Rick pulled on his t-shirt, jamming his elbow against the wall. Shit! That hurt! This day is getting off to a great start.

  He barreled angrily through the door headfirst and rammed into a stranger’s knee.

  “Hey, idiot!” he yelled.

  “Never heard of right-of-way?” he heard in response.

  It was Maggie. She must have also been off duty this shift. Rick was annoyed at himself for so stupidly lashing out at her. He had heard somewhere that Asian women liked older white men, but that was probably just a rumor.

  One of the reasons he had been so keen to get a job on this ship was that approximately two-thirds of the crewmembers were female. Planners had calculated that this distribution would significantly elevate the odds of reproduction in the future colony.

  He viewed this calculation as taking a long-term view. Conveying eighty kilograms of biological mass to Mars cost approximately a million dollars. Giving birth to a new human on Mars wouldn’t cost the company anything. Well, maybe a little more than nothing, because the new person would need an education as well as medical care. However, one of the unique characteristics of humans was that parents typically placed a high value on providing their progeny with food, medicine, and education. This was why adults with children often worked twice as hard—an effect that would only benefit the corporation.

  Rick grabbed a handle and pulled himself upward, taking a quick glance around. It looked as though everyone was coming out of their holes. The FM must have called a full assembly. This didn’t look much like something work-related, as it had turned out yesterday, but like pointless standing around. What could they have to say? Was the company offering a new prize? Would anyone else on board who got pregnant receive a bonus? Or had the stock market gone into decline, causing them to decide that it wasn’t worth settling Mars and to order the ship to return? They called this a ‘pivot’ in stock market jargon. No, considering the crew’s motivation, they would have waited to tell them this until they were close to Mars. It was too late to go back as it was. They wouldn’t be able to turn back until they had reached their destination.

  He wondered what was going on, but he wasn’t concerned. If there were a serious problem—if something were wrong with the ship—then the sirens would be shrieking. Each of them would be called to their stations and would have their breathing masks in hand. No, it had to be something less terrible. Maybe their salaries were going to be cut, or... but what was the point? He shouldn’t worry about these things, but rather enjoy the numerous décolletés that were in view. Weightlessness definitely had its advantages, and many of the space newbies had yet to register the view
s that were available to them.

  “Colleagues and honored passengers, please move a little closer together so that everyone can fit in here. You can also use the space above our heads.”

  Rick couldn’t recall the name of the FM on shift. The woman was quite tall and seemed very pale. Was that her natural skin color? Or did she already know what was about to be announced to all of them?

  Rick watched as the Senator entered, escorting an older woman. His arm was protectively draped around her shoulders. Rick had never seen her before. The woman looked ill. Had she perhaps caught an infection on board? No, they wouldn’t have called together the ship’s entire crew for that.

  “In five minutes, Senator Rick Ballantine will make an important announcement,” the FM explained over the loudspeaker. “Please be patient.”

  Ballantine spoke quietly, but intensely, with the older woman. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and disappeared behind the door again.

  A strong, warm hand landed on Rick’s shoulder. He already knew that it had to be Terran. His colleague used a deodorant that could be described as... overpowering, or distinctive, if you wanted to be nice about it. Rick wanted to be pleasant to Terran since he needed him, at least for the moment. His colleague seemed to have a special relationship with the Senator, who was obviously the most important man on board.

  “What are they going to tell us?” Terran asked.

  “If you don’t know, who does?”

  “The guy down there,” Terran replied, pointing at the Senator.

  “And the older woman must, too, the one we saw for a minute.”

  “That’s his aunt. She’s the primary heir of the company’s fortune. I really wonder how he managed to convince her to come along on this trip.”

  “Maybe she likes her conceited nephew.”

  “Maybe. But he isn’t all that arrogant. You’re wrong about him,” Terran said.

  “Well, you should know.”

  The other man chuckled. “I know more than you think,” he said.

  Rick was startled. Was that an insinuation of some kind? Had Terran discovered the bug under his bed? Rick couldn’t imagine that he had. Last night, at least, he had heard distinct sounds from next door. It was possible that his colleague hadn’t destroyed the bug, but had simply passed it along. That would have been quite smart. Too smart actually. He didn’t think his colleague possessed that much cleverness.