Long reluctantly emerges out of the rig. With a subtle shake of his head back and forth, he grabs his bags and jumps down. As he walks around to the rear of the vehicle, he notices a single oxygen cylinder gleaming in the sun. Heavy laden with his own bags, Long reaches for it and tucks it under his arm. Holding it in his right hand, the oxygen cylinder gleams in the returning light of day, the full canister is heavy.
Mendez looks on as she shoulders her own bags; the decision weighing in his mind has become evident to her. Cardiff grabs her gear and looks on at Long as well.
Cardiff: Yes, we are short of oxygen. We do have a single full canister. I understand the quandary Doctor Long.
Long: We’ll make it. So it isn’t an issue, is it?
Mendez: It certainly isn’t… I understood the risks involved in coming here, but I never imagined myself standing here contemplating such things.
Cardiff: Right, well we need to be going that ‘a way. We’ll have time for chit-chat when we get back home.
The rough terrain proves to be a difficult path to walk upon. All three stumble around rocks, ranging in size from fist-sized rocks to rocks larger than they are. After quite some time toting gear through this treacherous path, Mendez collapses into the soft sand underfoot. Cardiff doesn’t notice her fallen comrade as Mendez was walking behind Cardiff.
Long turns to check on her, and notices that she is down in the dust. She braces herself with a single outstretched arm on a rock. He jumps to her assistance; his quick movement draws Cardiff’s attention.
Long: Here, I will carry your bags Mendez. Get up, you need to finish this.
Cardiff: You are already slowing us down with all of the gear that you are carrying Doctor Long.
Long looks down into his bags, the sun’s light bounces around in the bags as the rough precious stones bathe in the afternoon light. Long reaches for his shoulder and grabs his closely-guarded treasure. Sand and dust is driven outward under the force of the falling bags after he slides them off of the edge of his shoulder.
Long draws in a deep breath, contemplating the wisdom in what he is about to do. He reaches down to Mendez and grabs all of her gear and places it all on his shoulder in place of his own gear. His other hand reaches down for her arm, and he pulls her up out of the sand.
Long: Come on! Let’s get moving.
Each step that he takes away from his bags seems to lighten his burden. He looks over to his right, and notices Cardiff breathing heavily in her suit. Apparently, her oxygen is spent. Out of his bag comes the final full cylinder of oxygen, and he walks behind her and unhooks her spent tank. With another quick twist, the rush of air is indicative of the successful swap.
Cardiff, still breathing heavily to recover, simply says a quick “thanks”. He looks down at his own pressure read and he breathes a deep sigh of relief after noticing that he still has plenty of air to get there.
Cardiff: Oh, I do not feel well at all. I feel nauseous, and I have been getting this really bad headache.
Mendez: Yes, I have noticed that too. What is happening to us?
The team continues to walk, slower now, but still walks. A piercing sensation of vertigo and overall sickness penetrates every last fiber in Long’s body. “Whoa.” is all he can muster as he bends over, planting his hands on his knees to prop himself up. While bending over, he notices Mendez is a few paces behind, also in the same position. She is struggling to breathe as her air is now spent.
Long: Mendez, I am sorry. There isn’t any more air.
Mendez: Somehow I knew that I would die here in this place.
Long walks back to her as Cardiff stands looking on. In the background the ship is visible, although it is slightly obscured by the rising waves of heat in the thin Martian air. Long walks up behind her and places his hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry”.
Long reaches behind him, and quickly disconnects his oxygen canister. Mendez stands in agony, breathing in the bitter taste of suffocation. Another twist and her empty canister falls to the Martian dust at her feet. She stands, her eyes grow heavy and she feels the end is nigh. A rush of cool fresh air into her helmet surprises her. She turns to find Long kneeling on the plain. He had placed her bags back on her shoulder while she was not paying attention.
Long: Tell my parents that I love them, and tell them I am sorry about Max. Tell them everything I told you. Promise me this.
Cardiff: Doctor Mendez, please. We don’t have much time. Doctor Long, I will always remember the sacrifice. Thank you for your support and the experience.
A hasty, yet hesitant Mendez steps away from Long as he lay prostrate upon the cold sand, Mendez looks back at him and her eyes begin to tear up in the sight that she begins to witness. Long begins to struggle for air. His arms and legs flail against the sand as he battles for each breath of life. She remembers words spoken the other day, “I never want to experience that, ever again.” The sun shining down upon him casts a blinding light through his helmet.
Tears form and slowly dribble down his cheek as the hand of death reaches out to him. As his eyes begin to close in defeat, he can see a single, blurred figure standing over him, casting one last shadow across his eyes, before they shut tightly.
A motionless Long lay alone on the plain, a simple smile crosses his fading expression, imprinted on his face forever in this barren, rock-filled wasteland. His expression will be a reminder of the satisfaction that he had felt in sacrificing all for another. Long had always suspected that he would die alone, but he never could have guessed that his death would provide life to another.
Chapter 29
Crimson is painted upon crushed foliage behind the laboratory building. Ghent, struggles through the low-lying brush as he works to get to the first-aid kit in the laboratory. After a difficult time of crawling on his elbows and dragging his legs through dense grasses, Ghent finally reaches the front corner of the laboratory building.
A lone bee in flight nearby draws his fading focus. Its wings in motion seem to slow to a pace that he can see them individually flapping against the light force of gravity. The world around him, and time itself, seem to both slow to a near-paused state. The sun light shimmers off of the wing in motion.
Just as time had slowed, it began to regain its full force. The bee wings begin to beat faster and faster until they return to the indistinguishable state that they had begun in. The bee continues its flight overhead, until it suddenly falls in the cessation of its movement.
Hours before, a cloud had burst violently from the surface of the sun. Highly charged particles were flung deep into space at an incomprehensible rate. That toxic cloud of radiation now rains down upon the surface of Mars. All around him, the sound of wings flapping in the air fades into the sound of a single remaining heartbeat.
Ghent pulls himself out of the soft sand that vies to claim him. Upon a single knee, he presses upon the door to the laboratory, the door concedes as his bloody hand slides on its smooth white surface. Ghent looks over to the door as he stumbles through the opening. The markings, now evident upon the door, appear to him to be chillingly familiar.
The object of his lone quest, a single kit mounted upon the wall next to his lab coat. He reaches from the floor up to his coat; with a firm, yet damp grasp, he manages to pull himself up high enough to tip the kit off of its hook on the wall. Shortly after the kit collides with the floor, spilling its contents about, Ghent comes to rest upon the floor next to it. His hand shakes as he stretches it toward a single tube of specialized foam. With it in unsteady hand, he presses the nozzle on the top and it discharges its contents into his chest and stomach, into his wounds. The foam begins to “sizzle” and the pain becomes difficult for Ghent to bear consciously.
Ghent: Stay awake!
After the pain begins to wane, he resumes his concerted effort to grab the next item on his list. A single syringe is produced from the opened case on the floor. He focuses on his inner thigh and inserts the syringe as best as he can into his femoral artery
. He manages to pull himself up to the seated position against the wall. His breathing becomes erratic and shallow. His pupils begin to dilate; the sight of his blood trail into the lab begins to fade into the dark backdrop in the void within. The feeling of pain and panic dissipate into this void, leaving only the inner monologue sounding within his mind. From outside his mind he can feel his helmet being locked onto his suit. His equilibrium seems to change in the darkness of his perception. He can feel something dragging him though the dirt.
Chapter 30
Wandering through the desolate land has dealt Mendez and Cardiff seemingly insurmountable difficulty. Every step is a marathon, every breath feels like the last one. They fight back the ferocious growing desire within to lie down. Time has been working against them as they finally reach the airlock of the freighter that has been waiting for them. Cardiff presses her finger against the control. The two women stumble into the airlock, and the outer door slowly shuts firmly behind them.
As the inner door opens up, the women seem to thrust themselves out of the airlock into the cargo hold. Both reach for their helmets and twist them off. These helmets are thrown to the side in contempt and in relief. Bitter cold bites at their throats and ears quickly.
Mendez stumbles over to the sink in the cargo area. Bruised hands grasp onto the edge of the sink, her head plunges into the sink as she vomits. Cardiff is stumbling through the door into the cabin. Training and focus are utilized to the fullest extent that she can muster. She manages to complete the pre-flight check of systems and instruments.
Mendez stumbles into the cabin, and joins Cardiff. After taking a moment to rest, she straps herself firmly into the copilot’s seat. Mendez looks over at Cardiff as she completes her checks. Cardiff happens to have an appreciable amount of blood flowing from her nostrils.
Doctor Mendez realizes what they have been poisoned with, solar radiation. Mendez estimates the extent of the irradiative damage through the symptoms. The triumph that she had felt moments ago, when her hand had first touched the airlock, now fades into despair.
Mendez: No, it can’t… it can’t be.
Cardiff is focused on piloting the enormous ship, and she is unaware of her copilot’s facial expression. It is apparent what focus now occupies her mind. The ship lifts off of the sand-bound deck, and sand begins to be thrust upward into the air from underneath the ship as it ascends higher.
Mendez’s jaw slowly drops open as the radio announces the static-filled message that she has been anticipating, “wait for me!”. Cardiff holds firmly onto the controls, and the ship turns back toward the direction that it had come in from those days ago. Quivering, she presses the accelerator and the ship begins to accelerate toward the horizon.
Mount Olympus stands out against the bleak, golden background. After several minutes, the ship approaches the mount as it prepares to ascend higher, and to break the bonds of Mars’ weak gravity. Cardiff quickly releases the controls. She grasps her stomach, but quickly moves her hands back to the control board as if to prop herself up. Slowly her red eyes close, and her head lays limp on her neck. Cardiff blacks out, her head falls upon the control panel, the controls are pressed down firmly. The ship is thrust down, off of course and it veers toward the enormity, Olympus.
A single, uninterrupted scream escapes Mendez’s lips as the ship rushes toward the colossal mount. Moments later, crates in the cargo hold launch toward the front of the ship. The cabin seems to shatter with the windshield. Personnel transports erupt as they collide with the bulkhead. Deep within the engine compartment, the containment field for the anti-matter dissipates. The antimatter fuel collides with the side of the container. Within nanoseconds, a blinding flash erupts as matter is annihilated.
The remaining wreckage is obliterated in the ensuing blast. A shockwave ripples the very face of Mars as it rushes outward. A bright cloud of pure energy spreads over the face of the mountain and rises a hundred kilometers into space. The orbiting satellite is obliterated in the explosion. There is no wreckage, but there is a second caldera on the face of Olympus Mons, which still glows molten hot in places.
Chapter 31
Year 18, Day 689
The wind, driving dust and sand across the plain, uncovers a clustered group of canvas bags lying next to a larger rock. The wind blows the canvas to the side to reveal the contents of these lost bags. Plain, black rocks within the bags are uncovered by the raging wind. The canvas, worn and torn by the elements, falls back to covering the once-valued stones, extracted with great effort from the deep caverns of Mars.
Thousands of silent days have seen the dome transformed into a singular oasis of life on the face of Mars. In the absence of any watchful eyes, the plants have overgrown their intended purpose within. Cameras within the dome lay completely dormant; ivies reach out to cripple them. A silent forest, immense and disobedient begins to claim the alleyways and openings in the once-barren plaza. Neither the sound of a wing in flight, nor sound of wind in the leaves disrupts the absolute tranquility of the dome. Where only rocks had dared to stand watchful over the pond, large trees overtake them. The low gravity, a constant supply of water, carbon dioxide and the steady temperature have all contributed to the explosion of plant growth.
Outside the dome, the once incomprehensible blast that had altered the terrain has also left its signature on the face of the dome. Although obscured behind a large hill of rock, the dome still felt the shock. Small individual spheres of glass on the outside of the dome’s skin had been shattered by flying rock and other debris. From within the glass dome, the remaining rocks left where they had made their marks, appear as fixtures in the sky above. Fortunately, only the first, and occasionally second, layers of the outside were destroyed. The pressure and temperature within the dome had been preserved for an undetermined future.
As the sun begins to flee over the west horizon, the stars in the east begin to shine. The cold breeze drives bits of sand to collect behind rocks and debris left upon the hill and surrounding the dome.
Floodlights cast the interior of the dome back into the intensity of daylight. Two heavy ships slowly descend from the dark of night above. The searching gaze of the bright lights moves around the dome, the hill above it and plain around it. The bright lights from the stabilizing engines reveal the position of the ships above as they begin holding a steady altitude above the dome.
After making several rotations around the dome, the first ship slowly descends to within thirty meters above the entrance to the dome. Two opening doors underneath are revealed in the intense escaping light from within. As two rocks falling from a great height, two heavily built rigs are dropped from the belly of the beast above. In the bright bath of light, the first rig bounces in the light sand underneath; sand and dust rise off of the ground, and out into the dark of night under the force. Under the intense scrutiny of a second floodlight, the second rig lands similarly.
After a brief moment to settle on the deck, the rigs both begin to power up. Small lights, which decorate the exterior of each, begin to illuminate the surrounding area dimly. Headlamps turn on, casting the distant road in front of them into some measure of light. Both rigs begin to crawl along the surface of the landscape, rolling toward the smoother road that will bring them to rest in front of the dome airlock.
Under the continued scrutiny of the overhead light, men in blue pressure suits begin to pour out of the parked rigs. A variety of rifles are directed out toward the surrounding landscape. Several more men step out of each of the rigs in a slightly less hurried manner, and begin their short journey to the airlock itself.
The outer airlock doorway is forced open with a heavy lever mechanism; this has been made mandatory as there is no power to the airlock controls. The door is pried all of the way open. A relatively small, eight-person crew enters the airlock together with a large, long crate. The outer door is manually shut behind them and the vent control inside is activated, bringing a loud rush of air charging back into the airlock. Anxious
and timorous crew members await the completion of the pressurization.
The inner door groans open, several gloved hands force it out of the way. Four men wearing blue pressure suits draw their automatic rifles and shoulder them, they cautiously walk out of the airlock into the dome; but only a few steps out. The remaining four pause for a few minutes, awaiting the announcement that it has been cleared for entry.
From the entrance to the dome, the view is composed completely of the top of the forest surrounding them on every remaining side. The intense light from above causes the ceiling of the dome to glow white, casting its light down to define the trees underneath.
Overgrown foliage now crowds the pathway; leaves of green, brown, orange and red all adorn the bushes and the frequent tree along the path. As the team presses into the overgrown path, the ceiling of the dome is obscured from view by the trees as they reach ever skyward. The red clay under their feet is well covered by years of fallen leaves and twigs, which now cover the ground thoroughly. The water evaporating from the plants through their leaves produces a thick fog that fills the forest within the dome from top to bottom. Droplets of rain fall from somewhere above them. As the droplets cascade down through the foliage, the dust from outside is slowly being rinsed off of the team.
One of the red-clad crew stops for a moment, and examines the variety of plant life growing along the pathway; the plants within now dominate the interior of the dome from one end to the other. A solid hand comes down on the red-clad shoulder.
Deeper Into the Void Page 24