The Ruins of Mars (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy Book 1)

by Dylan James Quarles

  Now forty-one years old, Tatyana remained physically strong and mentally fit. As she pushed hard against the moving belt of the hamster wheel, her short red hair swayed from side to side in its ponytail. Only 160 centimeters tall, Tatyana was thin and delicate-looking with pale skin and gray eyes. Though she appeared small, her body was wrapped entirely in finely tuned muscles, which reacted with lightning-quick reflexes.

  As the fire in her thighs began to grown unbearable, she let her pace slacken.

  “Alright, Braun. That’s enough,” she breathed heavily.

  “Excellent workout, Captain,” said the AI.

  Almost at once, the room stopped moving, and Tatyana began to drift upwards with the familiar feeling of weightlessness.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “7:43 AM Standard Time.”

  “How long have I been in here?” she questioned between breaths.

  “Two hours and eleven minutes.”

  “What was my average speed?”

  “Twelve miles per hour, Captain,” replied Braun. Then, “You are improving. The gene enhancement must be working well.”

  Feeling her heart rate slow quickly, she took a few more deep breaths, then reached for a handrail near the hatch. Pulling herself up to the axis of the room, Tatyana pressed the pad mounted to the door. With the clank of retracting bolts, the hatch swung out, and she pushed herself through into the narrow hallway. Closing the hatch behind her, she drifted down the passage towards the rear entrance to the galley. Checking the hatches to the storage rooms on either side of the corridor, she was satisfied to see them securely closed and latched. As she moved through the air, she admired the method that the technicians at NASA had devised to keep the crew oriented in the hallways. Fading from the floor, up the walls and to the ceiling, the color of the paint changed from deep midnight blue at the base to a nearly sunlit turquoise at the peak. This subtle touch in design was just the sort of thing that appealed to her subconscious mind, always allowing her to know which way was up.

  Like swimming in the ocean, she thought with melancholy.

  Entering the kitchen, Tatyana was surprised to see the two mission engineers, William Konig and Udo Clunkat, sitting at the table. The blueprints for the yet-unnamed Mars base were suspended in the air above them, and the two Germans talked quickly while making animated gestures towards the model. Udo, the elder of the two at thirty-five, was pointing to the blueprints with a thick finger while William nodded and stroked his weak chin, looking a little like a lizard.

  “Guten tag!” she called.

  Tilting his head to one side, Udo waved nimbly and replied, “And dobraye utro to you, Captain.”

  William began to pull himself free of the electromagnets that held him to his chair.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, Tatyana made for the exit to the crew quarters.

  “No, I’m heading to the shower now. Will you both still be here in twenty minutes? I would like to go over some of the construction timelines with you.”

  In unison, the two nodded their heads.

  “Good. I’ll be back shortly,” she smiled.

  Udo and William again returned their gazes to the holographic blueprint and began to prattle in energetic German.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would think those two are brothers, Tatyana said to herself. They even sort of look alike with those silly mustaches.

  Stopping at the exit hatch, she called over her shoulder, “Ihr brüder spielen schön, okay. You brothers play nice, alright.”

  Craning their necks to fix Tatyana with friendly glares, the two Germans shouted, “Ja, Mutter. Yes, Mother.”

  The HEO Shipyard—the 29th of December, 2044

  The faint whirring sound of his pressure suit’s fan motor was the only noise Julian Thomas could hear in the silence of high Earth orbit. Holding his breath, he pulled himself clumsily through a narrow opening in the skeletal hull of the massive and incomplete Braun. With a crackle, a voice dripping with the drawling accent of the American South cut in through his helmet speakers.

  “Alright, Julian, now you’re going to want to take a left and head down about eight meters or so. You should pass five bulkheads before you get to the relay room. The first four separate the forward deck coolant systems from the climate control computer network. After you pass the fifth bulkhead, you’ll be in relay room A9. The panel will be on the far right wall. Got that?”

  Taking care to mind his surroundings, Julian grunted slightly as he reached up and grasped a guide line anchored to the ceiling.

  “Okay, Carl. I’m going now,” he said into his helmet mic.

  “Watch out for any sharp edges. That suit’s a biggon’,” came the twangy response.

  Julian began to pull himself down the guide line hand-over-hand with his back to the floor. As he moved forwards through the narrow passage, he counted the bulkheads as they passed in front of his helmet. Turning his head inside the pressure suit, he looked at the rooms as he glided through them. The first contained complex arrangements of thick ducting, which grew like upside-down metal root networks, disappearing into the ceiling. Passing the third and fourth bulkheads, he moved through two rooms dominated from end to end by large metal boxes—the door to each empty container standing ajar yet not swaying in the stillness of space. Eventually, when the ship was finished, these boxes would house part of the climate-control computers for the crew decks nearly two stories above. When he reached the fifth bulkhead, he pushed off of the ceiling and turned around to face the small room. The space was two meters long by two-and-a-half meters across with a panel box on the right-hand wall. Out of the top of the box sprouted a large conduit from which other, smaller metal tubes branched out and disappeared into the walls and ceiling. A shaft of brilliant light illuminated the room, and, turning to his left, Julian saw that a small section of hull siding had yet to be installed. Through the opening as if through a window, he saw the massive blue profile of planet Earth. Letting go of the guide line, he drifted to the opening and drank in the glorious vision. White clouds streaked across glowing blue seas while virtually every shade of green smeared and mixed with browns, ochers and tans, adding texture to the massive continents so far below.

  “Belle,” he whispered. “Beautiful.”

  Again, the voice of Carl Perrit, chief technician in the Shipyard’s command deck, cut in.

  “Indeed she is, Julian, but you need to get going on that wiring.”

  “Merde, mec!” swore Julian. “Shit, man! I can see here that I have plenty of air for another four hours at least.”

  Carl did not respond for several seconds, but when he did, there was a hint of urgency to his voice.

  “Listen, Brother. It’s not that. Cape Canaveral just called. It looks like the storm has passed. They’re launching the shuttle tomorrow morning, so you need to finish up with that wiring and get packed to head home.”

  Julian had been expecting this, though part of him hoped that the typhoon would last for at least another few days. The sensational news from Mars just ten days before had resulted in a flurry of communications from the ground crew at Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral. A departure date had been set for Project Braun, and a series of shuttle launches were slated to begin ferrying up more workers to the Shipyard in an attempt to accelerate the construction of Julian’s interplanetary spaceship.

  The former Mission Commander of Project Mars Map, Dr. James Floyd, had been assigned to helm the newly revitalized Project Braun, and his aggressive plan for the ship’s completion involved a heavily augmented budget and the cooperation of several space agencies from around the globe. By previously accepting a seat on the Project Braun crew, Julian had forfeited his position in the Shipyard, and Dr. Floyd was now pushing hard to have him on board one of the Earthbound return shuttles as quickly as possible.

  As he looked down upon the Earth from his vantage point in orbit, Julian furrowed his brow and nodded in
his helmet. Slowly, he turned away from the opening.

  “Tomorrow eh?” he sighed. “All this trouble just to get me back to Earth.”

  “No, not just for you,” chuckled Carl. “They’re sending us supplies and more hands. A lot more.”

  “Of course,” murmured Julian sorely. “More hands.”

  “You’re a funny guy, mon ami. First you bitch that there’s not enough money or not enough help, and now you’re bitching that she’s actually gonna’ get finished. What is it with you French? I think you’re all addicted to disappointment!”

  Laughing, Julian pushed himself across the room towards the large electrical panel on the opposite wall. Lifting the latch, he swung the door open noiselessly and peered inside at a twisted nest of color-coded wires.

  “Maybe so, Carl,” he grinned. “Maybe so.”

  Touching a gloved finger to the black command screen inlaid in his left forearm, he said, “I’m turning on my Augmented Vision now.”

  The inside of his face shield began to glow with soft transparent light as an ordered list of illuminated numbers and commands filled the space.

  “I’m receiving you,” Carl announced. Then, “Now, you’re going to want to start with E1562.”

  As Carl’s words sounded inside Julian’s helmet, a green arrow appeared on the glass in front of his face and pointed with rapid blinks to a thin yellow wire nestled in a thick cluster. E-1-5-6-2 flashed next to the arrow, indicating that this was the wire Julian was looking for.

  “Okay,” continued Carl. “Take E1562 and feed it into the converter connecting B2248 and B2232.”

  A new arrow flashed across his face shield this time pointing to a tiny gray box that joined a brown wire and an orange wire, each labeled with glowing call numbers. Bringing the yellow-coated E1562 wire up to eye level, Julian reached with his free hand to his utility belt and pushed his forehead against the glass of his helmet in an attempt to see his tools better. Moving his fingertips across the handles of his tools, he found what he was looking for and removed his wire strippers from their magnetic sheath. Peeling off a centimeter of highlighted yellow plastic, Julian fed the exposed metal of E1562 into a small port on the converter that connected the other two wires. With a satisfying clicking feeling, the wire plugged into the converter and held fast. A blue circle projected on the inside glass of his helmet and surrounded the converter box, signifying that the connection had been successfully made. From his suit speakers, he heard Carl exhale quietly.

  “Nice work,” he said. “Now just do that a hundred and twelve more times.”

  “In this box,” Julian sighed. “Thousands more for the rest of her.”

  “That’s why we need more hands,” needled Carl lightly. “More hands and more money.”

  Nodding, Julian made a conciliatory snorting sound and checked his oxygen levels. Three hours and fifty-six minutes, it read.

  I’ll need to work fast, he thought to himself, but not too fast. This is probably the last time I’ll put my hands on her until she’s finished.

  YiJay Lee and Braun—March 2048

  Standing with her feet magnetically held to the floor of the galley, YiJay Lee pressed a small hand to the glass that encased the bamboo garden. Hurtling through the void of space at 34,700 kilometers an hour, she shivered in the clammy cold of the sleepy ship. Taking her Tablet from the breast pocket of her jumpsuit, she checked the time, which read 5:30 AM. In half an hour, Braun would wake those members of the crew not already active, and the ship would bustle again with the almost pointless semblance of a work day. Flicking her fingers across the Tablet’s screen, she brought up the flight progress and sighed despite herself.

  “Is everything alright, YiJay?” came the voice of Braun in the quiet galley.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured. “I’m just a little chilly, that’s all.”

  “Allow me.”

  Almost instantly, she felt a warm gust of air rustle the loose black hairs of her thin ponytail. Again, she put a hand to the glass of the bamboo garden.

  “Is that better?” asked Braun.

  Smiling so that her plump cheeks dimpled, YiJay nodded.

  “Good,” said the AI happily. Then, “I noticed that you were checking our flight progress. Is there anything you would like detailed or explained?”

  Watching the delicate stalks of bamboo sway to and fro in the artificial breeze, YiJay shrugged.

  “No thanks, Braun. I’m just ready to get there.”

  “To get where, YiJay? Mars?”

  Bringing one corner of her mouth up into a half-smile, she chided the AI.

  “Of course. Where else?”

  “I only ask for clarification because you are not part of the landing team, YiJay. Even once we arrive, you will spend at least two months on board the ship before the base is complete.”

  Turning from the garden, YiJay looked into the air.

  “I know,” she said, biting her lower lip. “But at least being near something will feel better than this aimless drifting.”

  The tabletop in the center of the room began to glow, and the three-dimensional projection of a beautiful sail boat sprang into existence above it. Waves lapped at the bow of the graceful vessel, and a gentle wind filled its billowing white sails. Braun, in a soothing voice, began a kind of strange narration.

  “I understand your feelings of apprehension. To a human, navigating the space between planets and celestial bodies must seem immense and totally alien, but please believe that we are not drifting, YiJay. In much the same way that the winds and tides of Earth guide the course of a schooner across the open seas, so too do laws equally solid and comprehensible govern our approach to Mars. For the past three months we have been on a calculated and precise trajectory, one which has been executed thus far without incident or intervention.”

  As Braun said this, the projection of the sailboat was quickly replaced by an image of the solar system. The focus shifted, then drew in on a tiny glowing craft moving across the space between the Earth and Mars. With a hum, lines appeared in the open areas between the planets. Moving like currents of ocean water, these lines were, in reality, representations of various gravitational fields mixed with the constant swirling of solar winds. Gazing at the projection, YiJay saw just how far they had come. The ship was nearly three-quarters of the way there, and it moved with perfection along a brightly highlighted flight path.

  “You see, YiJay,” continued Braun. “You are not drifting, and comparatively you are quite near to Mars. Do you feel better?”

  Frowning, YiJay allowed herself a shallow nod. Although his heart was in the right place, Braun did not understand. How could he? Until she could look out the window and see the surface of Mars beneath her, she would still have the same terrified feeling of uncertainty gnawing in the pit of her stomach. Like a sailor spotting land in a storm, just knowing it was there would give her hope. Braun again spoke, but she did not hear him.

  “What?” she asked, snapping back to the moment.

  “I said, ‘Would you like to commence with my morning diagnostic?’”

  Nodding, YiJay bent her knees and pushed off the floor, breaking the gentle pull of the magnets in her shoes. Floating up into the air a little, she grasped the back of a chair anchored to the table and thrust herself towards the forward exit hatch. Passing into the crew-quarters hallway, she moved silently through the air by taking handrails and tugging herself along the wall. Nearing the open entrance to the bridge deck, YiJay saw Harrison at the main window. Feeling her heart skip a beat, she slowed her movements and stopped at the lip of the hatch. She could hear his quietly rising voice followed quickly by smooth responses from Braun. Unable to make out what he was saying, she got the sense from his rapid gesticulations that Harrison was arguing with the AI.

  “Braun?” she said.

  “Yes, YiJay?”

  “What is Harrison talking to you about?”

  While simultaneously speaking to Harrison in the bridge, Braun replied to YiJ
ay, “He is accusing me of distorting the image of Earth. He claims that I have been magnifying it.”

  Slightly confused, YiJay asked, “Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Dr. Kubba has instructed me to employ this technique so that no one on board ever fully loses sight of home. I am obliged to follow whatever psychological recommendations she prescribes for the crew. Her position as physician and psychologist gives her the ability to program me in respect to those fields.”

  “I see,” said YiJay, slowly understanding something. “Is that why you launched into that rehearsed little bit about schooners and celestial bodies back in the kitchen?”

  “Yes.”

  Pursing her lips together in anger, YiJay made a mental note to have a conversation with Dr. Elizabeth Kubba.

  No one programs Braun without consulting me, she thought with jealousy and frustration. He is my responsibility.

  “Braun,” she spoke harshly.

  “Yes, YiJay?”

  “From this point on, if anyone attempts to alter your programming in the slightest, you are to refuse and summon me immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but what if I am over-ridden or incapacitated.”

  “That won’t happen,” she frowned. “Don’t even think like that.”

  Grasping the lip of the entryway, she hesitated, then swung herself into the bridge deck. As she drifted across the open space of the large room towards Harrison, she began to make out his hushed words.

  “Don’t stonewall me, Goddamn it!” he hissed angrily. “I know what you’re up to. I want to see the Earth how it really looks!”

  Braun replied in a firm yet calm voice.

  “This is the best I can do, Harrison. I am sorry.”