by S A Asthana
The middle egg sparkled and glowed a gentle blue. Its light waned and then grew until it was so bright that staring at it was not possible without injury. A hologram hovered around it. Belle was as angelic as ever. She stood the same height she’d been in real life – five feet, two inches. The hair was blue and cropped again. And she wore a black, fitted track suit, one that showed off her athletic physique. The ninja of New Paris.
“You saved me, Bas,” she said. Her smile was warm. “You destroyed the High Council’s circuitry.”
“We destroyed the High Council. Together.” Bastien could barely speak. Every muscle ached. There was hardly any strength left to stand.
“Together.” She smiled. “The Sydneysiders are free again. They are saved.”
There was a pause. His head hung and tears streamed down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Bas?”
“The Martians are dead,” he responded, his thick voice despondent. “There was a massacre.”
Belle grasped at her abdomen. Did she feel pain at the revelation? Could she still feel sadness?
“Maybe… there are survivors, but I can’t tell,” he said, more to himself than anything.
“No.” Belle stared with unseeing eyes. “I’m not picking up any biological heat signatures besides yours in all of Port Sydney.” She locked eyes with him. “They are all gone. But how?”
“A green fog was brought from Earth and released here,” Bastien continued. “It floats aimlessly, eating everything in its path like it did in New Paris. Living alongside it would be a nightmare. The Martian colony has become unlivable.”
“What? Who brought it, Bas?”
“Cube. The robot turned on the Sydneysiders, along with others of its kind, and brought the devastation.”
Belle blinked several times as if she was processing the fact that Cube still lived – Cube, that demonic, immortal machine. “It turned on humans. Just like the High Council.”
“Just like Alice did on Nippon One,” Bastien said. “Man’s death brought about by his own creations and constructs.”
“There was a fifty percent chance of neither Nippon One or Port Sydney making it through the conflict.” She floated in place. “We did our best, Bas. You gave it your best shot.”
There was silence. He didn’t need to say anything to communicate how devastated he was. Bastien had worked hard to save things. In the end, things hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.
“I can still save humanity – or at least, what’s left of it,” he said. “Reo, Dr. Bala, Greg and the family of five are still alive in the bunker. We can carry the torch forward for humanity.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“Good question. Nippon One is destroyed. And Port Sydney has a deadly fog floating through it. Even if there was a way to flush it out, the colony wouldn’t be able to support life.” He slumped while picturing it. “Perhaps we truly are beaten.”
With the High Council gone, manual administration was required for oxygen and gravity generation. The system was fueled by energy largely secured from batteries orbiting the Sun along the path of Mercury. Hundreds of solar satellites gathered the energy, and to a lesser extent, the solar panels along the colony’s exterior walls. With Sydneysiders dead, there was no one knowledgeable enough about the process to intervene and carry the gathering forward manually. Those who traveled to the satellites and brought the batteries back were gone. So were those who plugged them into the colony’s systems. As were the men and women who ensured the oxygen-generating systems remained maintained and operational.
The underlying work was beyond Bastien, a soldier. One man couldn’t forward the operations and maintenance required to run a quantum computer one cubic mile in size. The colony would eventually lose its power, including its oxygen, gravity and atmospheric pressure.
As if comprehending his worries, Belle said, “Port Sydney only has three months’ worth of energy left.”
“Then we need someplace else,” Bastien said. “Reo’s bunker will give us a month, but that isn’t a long term solution either.” He scratched his shaved head and a sigh left his lips. Belle, despite her data stores, didn’t have an answer. It was up to him to figure out the next steps. Onward and upward. “Can you ping Reo in his bunker?”
“Pinging,” Belle said.
Seconds later, Reo’s voice resounded in the briefing room’s speaker. “Bastien, you’re alive?”
“Yes. Good to hear your voice,” he said. “The situation is so dire there isn’t room for small talk.” Time to get down to business. “The High Council is finished, Reo, but so is Port Sydney. We don’t have a whole lot of options left, besides Earth, if we want to stay alive long term.”
A silence stretched for several breaths. When nothing was said, Bastien resumed with his plan. “If it’s Earth, then so be it. The 1.V10 is in the docking bay. We can use it to house us on the planet, probably on the surface of one of the oceans, until we figure something else out.”
“We don’t have to go to Earth,” Reo said.
“Then where?” Bastien raised his brow. “Your bunker can’t hold us for long. And Port Sydney won’t allow for long term survival.”
“There is another option.”
Bastien’s heart skipped a beat. Another option? Did I hear that right?
“Titan.”
“Wait, Saturn’s moon?” Bastien crossed his arms across his chest.
“A fledgling colony,” Reo said. “A backup Nipponese colony led by my mother.”
Bastien and Belle looked at one another blankly. What kind of a colony was it? How many humans could it handle? Bastien’s mind burned with information requiring immediate attention.
“It will take us a year to get there, Bastien. Do you think your 1.V10 can handle such a journey?”
Bastien bit his bottom lip and stared at the floor. The 1.V10 was the strongest spacecraft in the solar system, sure, but whether it could handle a year-long journey was an unknown — to him, at least. “Belle, do you have any way of finding out?” he asked, his eyes wide with hope.
“I have plugged into the craft.” Her eyes blinked a few times as she conducted an analysis. “Based on my examination, the 1.V10 not only has enough energy stored to escape the Martian atmosphere, but also enough to continue its trajectory towards the intended target using minimum bursts of the ion propulsion engines. In this manner, its systems could work off energy stores for 4.273 billion kilometers. Enough to get to Neptune. Titan is just 1.196 billion kilometers.”
Bastien sighed. Finally, some good news.
Belle continued, “Its systems are in proper order. Recent maintenance checks fixed several issues, and the craft is at one hundred percent. Gravity grids and internal circuitry are operative.”
“How about the oxygen?” Reo asked. “Can the craft produce oxygen for a year?”
The hardest question. None of the other diagnostics mattered if the craft couldn’t produce oxygen. Its human passengers would perish without sufficient levels of the element.
“It can,” she said, “but for a maximum number of eight people, per my calculations.”
The number hit Bastien. Only eight? There were eight people in Reo’s bunker already. How would this work?
“There’s no way to increase the number of passengers?” Bastien asked.
“Any additional headcount would negatively impact the oxygen levels,” Belle said. “Only eight can be on board if Titan is to be reached.”
He took a deep breath. “How about the other crafts in the docking bay? The two 1.V9s? Can they maintain energy for the journey?
Belle blinked several times. Then, she shook her head. Only the 1.V10 was capable. Bastien sighed. If it was to be only eight on board, then so be it.
“How fast can you get here, Reo?” he asked.
Reo answered, “We’d need to load up enough food for all of us. The bunker’s canned goods should do. That’ll probably take an hour. Given the time needed to get to Mars, I
’d say roughly six hours.”
Bastien nodded. “I’ll receive you in the docking bay. Open up communication once you’re in Martian atmosphere. I’ll guide you.”
Reo signed off.
A long breath left Bastien. His heart slowed to its normal rate. There was pain all over his limbs from the action. When was the last time he ate? He plopped to the floor in a heap of sweat. The gears in his mind turned, and it was clear what lay ahead for him – sacrifice. Father Paul had talked about it often. Sacrificing one’s needs for the good of others. The act went hand in hand with saving, with not being a monster. The good father had done so much for his orphans. All that work had required him to put their needs in front of his. Sacrifice. It was now his turn to do the same.
“I will not go to Titan,” he said.
Belle nodded knowingly.
“I will… I will head back to Earth. That is my only option.”
It was a death sentence, of this he was sure. But the situation demanded such action. The 1.V10 would carry Dr. Bala, a man of medicine – his knowledge would be critical to ensure proper health for the other passengers during the journey. There was Greg Jackson. He was ace with technology. His expertise would be crucial to ensure understanding of the craft’s underlying code. Then there was the family – Leah and her four boys. Those children would help progress humanity. Finally, there was Reo. He would lead it all. His connection to the Titan colony would serve well if they arrived – no, once they arrived. The mission had to succeed at all cost.
“Maybe you could go with them?” he said to Belle.
She blinked, trying to understand his meaning.
“Can’t you download yourself into the 1.V10? That way you could watch over the crew and ensure your own survival.”
Belle smiled. She said, “It isn’t possible, unfortunately. Despite the sophistication of the craft’s computer, there isn’t enough space for me. If I tried, I could compromise the underlying mechanics of the 1.V10. That would put the crew at risk. I cannot do that.”
Bastien sighed. “So, you will stay here?”
She nodded. This would be her sacrifice – there was certain death for her at the end of the three months, after all, once the energy stores of Mars were depleted. “The simulated Parisians would never feel that death. They’d simply disappear at the end. Just like me.” Her selfless act. Even in death, she had a lot in common with Bastien. Their connection was obvious.
Silence fell upon the scene for several breaths. On that fateful day he stood up to Frank Crone, Bastien could have never imagined the world ending this way. Who would have known shunning the High Council’s edict could lead down this path of destruction? The end times had come for mankind, after all. The final wars had obliterated humanity, unless a mystery colony and these eight passengers could change all of that.
“I love you, Bas,” Belle said, her holographic features soft. “I saw a good man in that desert. I still see one today.”
He stood, and a tear trailed down his cheek. “I will never forget you, Belle.” A longing to hold her in his arms swelled. But it wasn’t meant to be. “You are beautiful inside and out.”
“As are you, my Lyon.” She shut her eyes. “I have you here in my simulation. You will rule by my side till the end. New Paris will benefit from your righteousness.”
In that other world, he would get his chance to be with her after all. A smile crossed Bastien’s face, the hologram glow of Belle twinkling in his sun-bright eyes. The idea was perplexing to wrap one’s mind around, but he was glad such an existence was possible. Was there truly a difference between his biological self and his digital one? Perhaps. His digital self in her simulation would never know he wasn’t a biological entity, just like the other Parisians. That version would get to be with his Belle, at least until the power supply ran out.
“Go be with your creations,” he said. “Go give them a life they deserve. Rule over them with grace and fairness.”
“Goodbye, Bas,” she said, and her image flickered. “I will always remember your words – onwards and upwards.” Then, just like the mirage of a sheet of water in a desert, she disappeared. When Bastien reached out with one last gut wrenching desire to touch her, his fingers went through the waning pixels.
Port Sydney’s halls and rooms were filled with dead bodies and piles of clothes left behind by those eaten within the green fog. That emerald ghoul floated from one floor to the next, parts of it having split away and moved on in different trajectories altogether. How many fogs now haunted the colony, Bastien could not tell.
He prayed for the deceased’s souls, calling up the words he first heard as a boy when death would visit an orphan. “In your hands, O Lord, I humbly entrust my brothers and sisters. In this life you embraced them with your tender love. Deliver them now from every evil and bid them eternal rest.”
Tears wet his eyes. He stepped over the body of a child, repeating the prayer he learned from Father Paul. “Welcome them into paradise, where there will be no sorrow, no weeping or pain, but fullness of peace and joy with your Son and the Holy Spirit forever and ever.”
In the advent of the 1.V10’s departure, before the eight arrived for their journey, Bastien was alone. There were no more ghosts from the past to give him company. “Amen,” he said to himself.
He came upon the door to what used to be his studio apartment. It was unlocked. Bastien walked in – the cramped space was exactly as he’d left it. Clean and spotless, and mostly empty. He never had many material possessions. The few uniforms he owned still hung in the closet. Nothing had been cleaned out. It had only been a month since he’d been there last, sleeping in the narrow bed or resting in the sofa chair. How quickly things could change. He stood in a space from a different time altogether, one where he’d been naïve.
Bastien removed his torn clothes and set them aside. Reviewing what remained in the closet, he put on an ironed red camouflage uniform. Its synthetic cotton would serve well on the Earth’s hot surface. The standard military issue red backpack was considered next – enough rations were present to last a week, plus ammunition to go for months. It wasn’t a lot, but it would serve him well in gaining his bearings. These backpacks were a lifesaver during military training missions in the Outback. Now, he would test them in another, equally hostile terrain. He switched out the Shift X he’d confiscated earlier with the one leaning against the closet’s wall. A quick check revealed a fully stocked magazine. He kept the boots he’d bought in Nippon One, a memento of the city.
The room offered some solace from the recent action, but there was still concern – the fogs could creep into the hallway outside his quarters anytime. There would always be constant dread of one seeping into his studio. Despite the door being shut, fogs could seep into the ventilation system and leak into the confined space. He’d have to sleep with one eye open, always being hunted by the miasma.
Bastien poked his head out – nothing but white walls. No green in sight. He released a breath. Despite the momentary relief, Bastien would still have to leave Mars. Earth was a hellish environment, sure, but it was still a better option than this quantum coffin. There were large swaths of land to roam and escape the fogs as needed, plus wildlife continued undeterred in the seas, so capturing food would be a real possibility. In Port Sydney, the sustenance relied heavily on vertical farming. Those adept at the practice were dead. Bastien didn’t even know the rudimentary elements of such farming – nurturing of the seeds, administering the right amounts of light, it was all beyond the soldier. And even if he did figure it out, once Port Sydney’s energy ran out, the temperature would plummet to the Martian minus 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Neither him nor the crops would last in such conditions.
He zipped up his uniform. “Time to go home.” Bastien headed back to the docking bay on floor ten. Everything still worked– the elevators, the lights, automatic sliding doors, all of it. But there was no biology left. Bastien truly walked amongst the dead. Port Sydney’s silence was eerie. Like wa
lking in a graveyard.
“Bastien.” The whisper made it to his ears.
“Who’s there?” Bastien spun as his heart beat wild against his chest. But there was no one besides corpses crippled by rigor mortis. Just the quiet playing tricks on his mind. Or perhaps the dead of New Paris, Nippon One and Port Sydney now haunted him and trailed him. He shook his head and said, “Get a grip on yourself.”
By the time Bastien made it to the docking bay’s command center, Reo’s communication signal alerted its many computers. He was within the Martian atmosphere. Bastien opened a line of communication and guided him to Port Sydney. The Nissan Kitsune Two landed next to the giant 1.V10 in the docking bay without issue few minutes later. The ceiling’s hatch door closed shut, sealing out the dead Martian atmosphere. Bastien clicked open the command center’s door and stepped out. The Nipponese craft’s occupants greeted him with weary smiles.
“It’s good to see you again,” Reo said. He looked around wide eyed – he’d never been to Port Sydney.
Bastien hugged him. “Wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“It could have been worse,” Dr. Bala came forward. He gave Bastien a hug, as well, as did Greg. The family of five, the mother and her four sons, watched on. Their shoulders sagged and their eyes were puffy from the crying.
There was a moment of silence as if in reverence to the large portions of humanity wiped out. It was all too much to take in. How did one wrap their head around the demise of one’s species? Bastien sighed and said, “We must look ahead. The past cannot be changed. But the future can be.”
Reo nodded. “We should transfer the canned goods we brought with us to the 1.V10. Then we can all head out.”
“I’m not going,” Bastien corrected.
“What?” Reo’s face went long.
“Belle said there’s only room for eight if Titan is to be reached.” Bastien’s gaze fell to the floor.
Tears wet everyone’s eyes. The number eight was mumbled. Life wasn’t fair. Not when one was a Parisian, at least.
“You’re sacrificing yourself for us, Bastien?” Reo said, his stare anchored to his feet. “You will die down at Earth.”