by J. J. Green
Jas hadn’t anticipated returning to her original home, yet if she were to ever find out more about her origins, now was her chance. Until she spoke with Ozment, she’d never considered that her deceased, anonymous parents might have been underworlders. The records of her birth had been lost in the colony disaster that claimed their lives, but it would have been easy for her to find out her genetic status. Like many things in her painful past, she chose not to dwell on it. She’d chosen to stay out of the whole modded/natural debate.
She just didn’t know if she could bring herself to investigate her past. Facing an attack of hostile aliens on a far-flung planet seemed a more inviting option.
An interface embedded on the wall of the hotel room beeped, distracting Jas from her musings. It was the hotel reception. She accepted the call. The receptionist who had checked her in appeared on the screen. Like Jas and all other Martians, his skin was deep olive, and his eyes and hair were reddish-brown.
“Hi. Is your room to your satisfaction, Ms. Harrington?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
“Great. I hope you don’t mind, but I just checked your passport details, and I saw that it’s been quite a while since you visited Mars?”
“That’s right.”
“In case you haven’t yet read the room information, I thought I would just let you know that the Rad X protocol still applies. Please try to limit your above-ground time. In the event of a solar storm warning, stay underground until further notice. You’ll find your bed access to the right of the screen.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.”
“Thank you. Our dining room is currently open and closes at nine. Breakfast starts at seven-thirty. Let us know if there’s anything else we can help you with. Enjoy your stay.”
The screen turned dark.
Jas had forgotten about the radiation exposure avoidance protocol. All Martians received mandatory gene therapy to help protect them from the sun’s radiation. It gave them their unusual coloring, but it only went so far. Exposure to radioactive solar and cosmic particles still increased the risk of cancer over the long term and prolonged exposure could cause radiation sickness.
The hyperloop to the hotel had been above ground, but the journey had taken only around half an hour. She could easily get to Valles Marineris 5 and back within a couple of hours. The question was, did she want to visit the site of her parents’ deaths and the largest disaster in the history of human colonization? She didn’t have to. She was there to find out what the Transgalactic Council were doing about the Shadows. No one would say anything if she didn’t go.
Her mouth went dry at the thought of visiting VM5, though she knew that, realistically, she had nothing to fear. The settlement had no doubt been rebuilt years ago. Not a trace of the devastation would remain. VM5 would consist of the same drab domes and tunnels as the other towns, connecting a few thousand underground homes, shops, workplaces, and factories.
Would it hurt her just to go and see it? Maybe the experience would do her good. All her life she’d been running away from her past. Her long habit had cost her the sense of any place being her home. It had also cost her friends, and now it was looking like it might cost her Carl.
She smiled at the irony of the situation. Her job required her to be the bravest person aboard a starship. She was the one who was expected to walk first into unknown danger. Yet in reality, she was a coward.
Moving swiftly before she lost her resolve, she pressed the interface to call reception for transport information. Though the idea made her legs go weak, she would visit VM5.
***
The hyperloop gate warbled as Jas swiped her card and passed through. In some ways, returning to Mars was like stepping back into the past. Credchip technology hadn’t reached the colony. For Jas, this was fortunate as she no longer carried a credchip beneath the skin on the inside of her right wrist. A scar was all that remained from where an underworlder had forcibly removed it, but Phelan had supplied her with ample funds to preload onto a credcard.
The single-carriage hyperloop module arrived within a few minutes. Jas went aboard. She had her choice of the ten seats in the small, empty carriage. She sat down uneasily, wondering why there were no other passengers. Martian society shared many similarities with Earth’s. Weekday evenings were commuter time, and Jas had expected at least some workers returning to VM5 from jobs outside the settlement.
As the module stopped at more stations, a trickle of people got on and off. Jas’ only respite from her growing disquiet was the way that she was ignored by the other passengers. She was just another Martian. No one took any notice of her. She’d never quite gotten used to the double takes and sidelong glances her appearance attracted among Earthers.
VM5 was the farthest point on the loop. The carriage was once more empty when Jas arrived. The doors hissed open and she alighted. It was like being ejected into a scene from a history vid. She was surrounded by plain metal walls, devoid of even the simple, old-fashioned interfaces and their scrolling ads she’d seen at other stations on her journey. The gates were from an earlier era too. The station was deserted.
Dread grew in Jas. Her trip was intended to reassure her that time had moved on, that the colony had been rebuilt and repopulated, and the terrible disaster had been forgotten. The idea had been, as far as she’d formed one, to convince herself that it was time for her to move on too.
She hesitated at the gate. Krat it. She wasn’t going to run away any more. Setting her jaw, Jas swiped her card. The gate chimed. Even the sound was different from the rest of the hyperloop. She stepped through and left through the only exit.
A few minutes’ walk along a bare tunnel that sloped gently down, taking her underground, brought her to a set of closed, plain metal doors and a booth. What was going on? Why was the settlement shut up? Where was everyone?
An attendant was in the process of closing down the booth. He stopped what he was doing at Jas’ approach and glanced at his screen. “Sorry, closing in five minutes. Not a lot of point going in now. Maybe come back tomorrow?”
Jas stood before the man, her hands gripping the edge of his desk. He looked from her hands to her face. His expression took on the appearance of mild alarm. “Er...it’s five minutes until—”
“I heard you.” Jas’ mind was whirring so much she struggled to know what to say. “I just need to...could you help me?”
The man’s alarmed look deepened. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe you should sit down?” He moved aside to offer her his chair.
“I’m okay. I just need to know...” Jas’ grip tightened. “What’s going on? Where are the inhabitants? And why’s everything so outdated?”
“Oh.” The man’s features relaxed. “I think you’re a bit confused. This is Valles Marineris Five, the scene of a colony disaster. If you go back to the Loop, it’ll take you where—”
“I know this is VM5. What I don’t know...wait.” Everything began to slot into place. The old-fashioned station and tunnel, the attendant in his booth. “Is this some kind of museum?”
“Yes, that’s right,” the man said, as if he were talking to a five year old. “No need for any alarm. Just head back to the—”
“No. I’m where I want to be. I meant to come here. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting this. Didn’t they rebuild after the disaster?” She tried to remember back to her time in the Martian institute for cared-for children. She couldn’t recall anyone telling her what happened to VM5. No one had told her it was being turned into an attraction.
“No, VM5 was never rebuilt. I’m surprised you don’t know that. Have you been away from Mars for a long time? No, they made the place safe and it stayed as it was for a few years. But no one was willing to invest in repair and renovation. It was cheaper to excavate another settlement. As time went on, there were calls to demolish it. Raze the site. Then finally they put it to a vote, and the Territory elected to preserve it in memory of those who’d died and as a warning to future generatio
ns about what could happen if they don’t put safety first.
“But,” said the man, swiping his interface closed and putting on his coat, “VM5’s closed right now. You can take a tour tomorrow, if you come back.”
Jas looked at the closed doors at the entrance to VM5, then back at the man. The shock of finding her birthplace hardly touched since her parents’ deaths was dissipating a little. It was being replaced by a compulsion to go through those doors. The feeling was so strong that she was nauseated. She knew that if she left, she might never find the courage to return.
“I want to go inside. Now. I can’t come back.”
“I’m very sorry,” said the attendant. “We’re definitely closed. VM5 opens at ten tomorrow and every day except Sunday. You’re welcome to return during opening hours and take a tour.” Jas didn’t move. After a moment, the man left and walked a short distance up the tunnel.
Jas still didn’t move. “Please?” she said to the departing man’s back.
He stopped and turned. He tilted his head. “It really means that much to you? Can I ask why it’s so important that you see VM5 right now?”
Jas glanced back at the closed doors once more. She swallowed. “I was born somewhere in there. My parents died in the disaster, but I survived and...I...just...need to go in.”
Chapter Eight
Sparks’ transition from scientist to guinea pig had been abrupt. After what had felt like an eternity of bliss, he woke up in a hospital bed within the research facility. At first, the quiet, regular beeps and flickering glow of lights on the monitoring equipment were confused with the serene vision passing through his mind. He thought the sounds and lights were only another manifestation of the perfect beauty and splendor he’d seen since trying to take a scalpel to the Paths. As more and more of his dream faded, the terrible realization that it was all ending hit him.
A ceiling came into focus high above, and Sparks gradually became aware that his mouth and throat were very dry. He worked his tongue and lips, trying to generate some moisture. He moved, weakly, and discovered that plastic tubes had been inserted into him to supply water and nutrients and to drain his waste.
He closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to the place he’d left. It had felt like an actual place that he’d been in, not a dream, even though he had the evidence of his physical body being on a hospital bed. If only he could slip back into a coma, maybe he wouldn’t ever have to leave that wonderful place again.
It was no good. The last threads of paradise broke and scattered, and Sparks was back in the medical center within the research facility on Mars. Despair overwhelmed him. He groaned out his frustration and unhappiness. The sound of his voice, or perhaps the alterations in his brain waves, blood pressure, or heart rate registered by the monitoring equipment brought a nurse to him.
The man pushed open the door to his room and locked eyes with him. But before entering, the nurse lifted his lapel to his lips and spoke softly into the comm button pinned there. A professional smile then spread over his face and he completed his entrance.
“Mister Sparks, how are you feeling? It’s good to see you awake.”
Mister Sparks? He tried to voice his objection to the word, but all that would come out of his mouth was an angry croak. He tried to lift his arms to gesture, but they were so weak that even the light blanket that lay over him restrained them.
“Take it easy,” said the nurse. “Take it easy. Everything will feel strange for a little while, until you get your strength back.” He went to a monitor, bent down to peer at the screen, and adjusted something. His head turned briefly to the door, as if he were expecting someone.
“Water,” Sparks managed to whisper, but the nurse either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him. With a great effort, Sparks cleared his throat. “Water,” he repeated, louder.
The nurse straightened up and turned to him. “You’d like some water? Sure. Just a sip. Don’t want to shock your system.” He filled a paper cup from the wall dispenser and pressed something at the bottom of Sparks’ bed with his foot. “Coming up,” he said, as the bed began to vibrate and the section below the upper half of Sparks’ body began to slowly rise.
The nurse held the cup to Sparks’ lips. He was taking a small mouthful of water when his fellow researchers arrived. He thought of them as his fellow researchers, anyway. It wasn’t at all clear whether they thought of him in the same way. As they came in, without ringing the chime, their small smiles seemed smiles of satisfaction that they could glean more information from their now-conscious subject, not smiles of relief at his recovery.
“Sparks, you came around. Great,” said Rincker. “How are you feeling? You must tell us all about it.” He nodded to the nurse, who pressed a screen. They were recording him—recording the results of their experiment.
This attitude from the people he had worked with for the previous few weeks compounded his misery. Where was their respect for a fellow scientist? Where was their gratitude to him for becoming a test subject? Sparks cleared his throat once more. “Must I?”
His question threw the scientists into confusion. They straightened up from their hunched, eager stances over him. A look passed between them.
“Yes, of course you must,” said Graydon. “That was the whole point of what you did. Don’t you remember?” She said to the others, “Maybe he’s suffered some memory loss.” She took out the interface she was holding under an arm and tapped at it.
Sparks was determined to cling to the last shred of dignity he had. “My memory is perfectly fine, and I didn’t sign any kind of agreement about taking part in this experiment. So unless my understanding of the legislation covering human experimentation is inaccurate, I don’t believe I’m under an obligation to tell you anything. I signed nothing. I agreed to nothing. I gave up none of my rights. I could get up right now and walk out of here, and there’s nothing any of you could do to stop me.”
Though he tried not to show it, he quailed a little as he spoke his final statement. He’d been—he was still—conducting weapons research. He wasn’t at all sure that he was as free to leave at any moment as he’d stated. He’d been bluffing, or threatening, or perhaps wishing. He wasn’t sure which.
“Oh, come now,” said Adrieux. “There’s no need for that kind of attitude. We’re all in this together, aren’t we?”
“Are we?” Sparks asked. “It seems like I’m the one in this bed after having risked my life to carry out an experiment on the Paths, and you three are safe, sound, and healthy, standing around me in your lab coats. It doesn’t look to me like we’re all in this together.”
Rincker pursed his lips and glanced at the others. “Okay, I hear you, Sparks. You just woke up. You aren’t in the mood to talk right now. We get it. Let’s leave it...a couple of hours? Maybe you’ll feel better then.”
They left. Sparks was under no illusions about what the man’s conciliatory remarks were about. He was still, in their eyes, no longer a colleague but a test subject. Any concern they’d felt toward him as another human being was gone. These were hardened weapons research scientists. It took a certain detachment to do their job effectively, and these three had it in spades. While he’d been a fellow researcher, he’d been a real person to them. Now that he’d become the source of information about a potential weapon, they didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, see him in the same light.
“I’ll put this here,” said the nurse, placing the paper cup on the table next to his bed. “We can begin your recovery program now. It’s best to begin it as soon as a patient wakes up. Back in a moment.”
The door slid closed behind the nurse. Left to his thoughts, Sparks began to calm down a little. He mentally went over his responses to the scientists. Had he been too hasty in denying their wishes? They were ruthless in their pursuit of results. They would stop at nothing to find out what they wanted to know about the Paths.
A heavy weight settled over him. Had he put his life in danger? If he refused to take part in the
research process, what might happen? What did the scientists have the authority to do? Did he already know too much to be allowed to return to his normal duties? The Paths could kill. There was no doubt about that. Would the scientists use him to push them to the limit?
Sparks cursed the day the aliens had been brought aboard the Galathea. All his life, he’d done as he was told. How had he ended up like this?
He longed to return to that heavenly place of his coma. Hope flickered within him. The prospect of the Path-induced trance was inviting. If he gave the scientists a little information, he could suggest that he repeat the experiment to find out more. It would be risky, yes, but he knew how far to Push the aliens before they reacted. He wouldn’t overstep the mark.
At the very least, his plan would buy him time until he could figure a way out of the predicament, and he would return to that wonderful paradise again.
He searched around for the call button and summoned the nurse. The man appeared within seconds. His time seemed to be devoted entirely to Sparks’ welfare. Of course it was, Sparks realized. He might now only be a test subject to the other scientists, but he was an extremely important test subject.
“I want to speak to my colleagues,” he told the nurse.
After weeks of being ignored and sidelined by Graydon, Rincker and Adrieux, he was going to become an object of their rapt attention. His only hope was to milk the situation for all it was worth.
Chapter Nine
Jas and the attendant at the VM5 entrance waited for his mother. After hearing Jas’ story, he’d called her, explaining that she would be very interested in meeting Jas and he was sure that Jas would be interested in meeting her.
The woman couldn’t have lived far away, for no more than fifteen minutes after the attendant had finished his call, a short, round figure came bustling down the tunnel. She was late middle-aged. Her nose and chin approached ahead of the rest of her.