Mars Station Alpha

by Stephen Penner

  Stanton looked. "Yes."

  "Okay, watch and tell me what happens to it," Lin instructed. She queued up the clip again and Stanton watched.

  "Um... it looks like it's getting a little bit longer," he observed.

  "Right," answered Lin. "As the sun moves west. Now watch it closely."

  He watched and this time he noticed how suddenly the shadow was short again.

  "Did you see that?" Lin asked excitedly.

  "It jumped back to being short again."

  "Exactly," said Lin.

  "What does that mean?" Stanton asked.

  "It means someone accessed the recording and doctored it," answered Lin, "replacing what really happened—someone entering the ship—with this loop of previous footage."

  Stanton looked at the screen again.

  "Whoever took out the comm equipment," Lin repeated, "Erased the evidence of entering the ship."

  All eyes turned to Gold.

  "Nice," she snarled. "Everything up till now has been the fault of some extraterrestrial gremlin—"

  "Poltergeist," corrected Petrov from his seat on the floor.

  "Thanks," Gold said sarcastically. "So everything up until now has been caused by malicious spirits of ancient Mars, but now suddenly I'm the one who stole our comm equipment and doctored the surveillance tape?"

  "It does make a certain sense," Stanton said. "You had to know we might try to comm back to Command behind your back."

  "And you have the technical expertise to know how to manipulate digital media like the surveillance recording," added Rusakova.

  "Plus the timing," pointed out Mtumbe. "It obviously happened during dinner, but you're the only one who didn't eat dinner with us. You claimed you weren't hungry and wanted to lie down."

  "I didn't 'claim' anything," replied Gold. "I wasn't hungry and I did want to lie down."

  She crossed her arms and surveyed the eyes against her.

  "I do understand," she said calmly, "why you would suspect me. But before you condemn the outsider to burn at the stake, hear me out."

  The reference to unfair judicial practices in remote, isolated colonies struck a chord inside Stanton. "Let her speak."

  "Thank you," Gold said. "First, I'm not the only one who is tech-savvy enough to insert an image loop. That's pretty basic, right, Lin?"

  Lin gave up an uncomfortable grin. "Er, yes," she agreed. "I could do it as well."

  "Second," Gold went on, "the timing doesn't mean anything. Whoever did this could have placed two image loops: the real one and another one specifically to throw suspicion on me."

  "Well, now, that's a little paranoid," Stanton said.

  "Really?" Gold laughed. "You mean paranoid like everyone accusing me of something I didn't do?"

  Stanton nodded. She had a point.

  "Finally," Gold pressed. "I have no reason to do this. Quite the contrary. I can simply order you all not to send communications, and even the captain has to—or at least is supposed to—obey me. Besides, if I know enough how to remove the equipment, I certainly know how to password protect it. I can lock you all out without needing to remove hardware.

  "In fact," she grinned, "I had already done that. So even if the equipment had been there, Mtumbe wouldn't have been able to send any comms."

  The others looked at each other. Lin looked to the others and confirmed with a nod that such a password could definitely have been implemented.

  "So really," Gold went on, "this is the worst possible situation for me. The one area I had control over is now removed. So now, not only am I an outsider, but I am completely irrelevant."

  The rest of the crew looked at one another.

  "She does have a point," Stanton said.

  "Sounded pretty convincing to me," added Mtumbe.

  "A little too convincing," said Rusakova. "Almost rehearsed."

  "Oh, for God's sake." Gold threw her arms up. "Fine. I don't really care if you believe me. I know what the truth is. That will have to be enough."

  It was time for Stanton to step in. "All right, we can get to the bottom of this. Lin, can you examine the recording some more to try to figure it out."

  "Yes, Captain," Lin replied simply.

  "Good," Stanton said. "But don't stay up too late. You're not going to stay up two nights in a row. For the rest of us, it's time to get back to bed. I think we could all use the rest."

  Everyone filed out of the comm center, even Petrov, and turned toward the sleeping berths. As Gold and Stanton reached the door, Gold grabbed his arm and whispered, "I didn't do it, John. You have to believe me."

  Stanton grimaced as he thought of all the lies she had already told him. "Why should I?"

  "Because," explained Gold, "it means someone else did."

  Chapter 49

  Stanton walked Gold to her cabin and wished her a goodnight. He thought it looked like he was the captain walking a suspect to their holding cell. But he knew better. And so did she.

  As he turned to leave, Gold whispered, "I know you believe me, John."

  When he turned around again, he wasn't sure what to say.

  But Gold was. "Whatever's happening, we're gonna have to deal with it eventually. You're gonna have to trust me."

  "Then you're going to have to give me a good reason to. Goodnight, Gold."

  But in the event, it wasn't a very good night. The strange, haunting metallic wail they'd heard earlier returned. It would start and echo through the ventilation, rising and falling and fading away before returning seconds or minutes later. That in turn led to half-audible rantings and cries by Petrov. On top of it all, Mtumbe spent the better part of the night moaning in a feverish sleep.

  Stanton lay awake most of the night thinking. He should have been thinking about Mtumbe, the ship's communication system, the doctored video, Dekker’s missing body, the Martian burial ground, Petrov's schizophrenic ravings, the fate of the first colonists—anything and everything other than what, or rather whom, he was thinking of.

  By the time the Martian dawn arrived no one was any more rested than the night before. At least Lin had been productive.

  "What did you find out?" Stanton asked her over his breakfast mush as she walked into the commissary.

  She sat down across from him, and next to Rusakova who was eating quietly but raised her head in obvious interest as Lin sat down.

  "I decided to go back to the beginning of the video footage," Lin explained, "so I would have some ability to compare the new footage with a known quantity."

  "Makes sense," Stanton commented. "Did it shed any light on what might have happened to them?"

  "Well, that's the interesting part," Lin said.

  "It did then?" Rusakova asked.

  "No. Not at all," Lin replied. "Which is what is so interesting. Everything is totally normal until about the nine month mark."

  "When communications were blocked by the sun," remarked Stanton.

  "Correct," Lin went on. "Then the recordings just stop."

  "Stop?" asked Stanton. "Like no recording at all?"

  Lin made an equivocal gesture with her hands. "Not exactly. The date and time stamps continue to advance, but the images just enter into a perpetual loop, the same hour of so of video repeatedly looped."

  "Is there anyone in the video?" Rusakova asked.

  Lin shook her head. "No. The station is completely empty in all the videos. They just loop repeatedly until the day before our arrival, at which point the system turned off."

  "So according to the video, the colonists just suddenly disappear without warning?" Stanton confirmed.

  "Exactly," Lin answered. "But I'm not sure what that means."

  Just then Gold walked in. She seemed to have slept fine, looking fully rested, with her full blonde hair pulled back in a thick ponytail.

  "Good morning everyone," she practically sang. Then she saw Lin. "Oh, Mei-Zhu. Did your research exonerate or condemn me?"

  Lin thought for a moment. "I would lean toward exonerate
. There is something strange with the video."

  "That loop thing has been going on for nine months," Stanton explained.

  "And it's not just that," Lin said. "There are also images, very faint, but which do not appear to be looping."

  Stanton's brow furrowed. "I'm not following you. What do you mean?"

  "Well," Lin explained. "Even though the background images loop repeatedly, there are occasionally, well, I will call them figures, that pass through the environment. They are almost impossible to see. In fact I didn't even notice them at first, but then I noticed some anomalies in the pixels and focused in. There's something going on that was never properly recorded."

  "Ghosts," said Petrov.

  Everyone looked to the doorway where he was standing, glowering behind Lin.

  "Isn't that what they are called?" he asked. "Those faint anomalies on the video recordings?"

  Lin gave a reluctant nod to the rest of the group. "They are called that sometimes."

  "Do you think you can get more information," Stanton asked Lin, "if you did some more examination?"

  "I would expect so," Lin answered.

  "Good," said Stanton. "Then here's the plan for today. Lin will continue to examine the video. Petrov and Rusakova will stay here while Gold, Mtumbe, and I go out and explore our alleged burial ground."

  Lin frowned. "I am not sure that will work."

  "Why not?" asked Stanton.

  "Daniel, I mean Commander Mtumbe, does not feel well." Lin's face betrayed her concern. "I fear his infection has returned."

  Stanton looked to Gold. She nodded her head toward the door.

  "Go check on him," she said. "That's most important right now."

  Chapter 50

  "Daniel?" Stanton knocked lightly on his friend's doorframe. The door was mostly closed. He pushed it open and was immediately met with a sour, musty smell. Not too strong, but unmistakable and unpleasant. He choked back a cough and stepped into the room.

  It was dim, the only light coming from the hallway, but Stanton could see Mtumbe lying on the small cot, a rough blanket pulled up to his chin. He had his head turned to the wall, but rolled it back toward Stanton when he heard his voice.

  "Hey, Captain," he said in a raspy tone. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

  Stanton leaned against the wall opposite him. There wasn't really room to sit anywhere.

  "I heard you weren't feeling too well."

  "I think I've got a cold," Mtumbe joked from his pillow.

  "I'll see if there's any chicken soup in the commissary," Stanton joked back.

  Then, after a moment, Stanton asked, "The infection back?"

  Mtumbe nodded. "Yeah, that has to be it."

  "How's the leg?"

  Mtumbe offered up a dark laugh. "Check for yourself."

  Stanton reached over and lifted the blanket. The rancid smell he'd detected when he first walked in exploded out from under the blanket, almost overwhelming him. The wound was active again, oozing a thin, foul smelling liquid, yellow in color, which left the skin shiny and pungent. The opening of the wound seemed to be mostly closed—at least there wasn't any red showing—but clearly the infection had returned.

  "I've seen worse," said Stanton.

  "You're a terrible liar," Mtumbe told him.

  "Maybe I should get Gold in here," Stanton joked.

  Mtumbe started to laugh but then caught himself. "It hurts to laugh," he explained. "But as far as Gold goes, she may be a liar, but I trust her too. She's not going to turn on us."

  Stanton didn't really want to talk about Gold just then.

  "Does it hurt much?" he asked instead.

  "My leg? No, not really. It stinks, but it doesn't really hurt. Mostly it's just numb."

  He took a deep breath. "It's the fever, headache, and shortness of breath I can do without."

  "Did you take your antibiotic?" Stanton asked, seeing the bottle on the small shelf next to the bed. Lying behind it was the small Martian figurine Mtumbe had found under Lin's cot.

  "Yeah," Mtumbe smiled. "Last night and this morning. Doesn't feel like it's working any more."

  Stanton picked up the bottle and read it. Floxacilin. The latest in generations of drugs descended from the original penicillin. Worked wonders on Earth. Not so much on Mars apparently.

  "Well, keep taking it," Stanton advised unhelpfully. "Probably just a little relapse. Your body will fight it off soon enough."

  "I'm sure you're right," Mtumbe coughed. "I just need some rest."

  "Too bad, though," Stanton said, covering up the nasty leg again. "I was gonna take you sightseeing with me and Gold."

  "Oh, yeah?" Mtumbe smiled. "Valles Marineris?"

  "No, nothing as nice as that," Stanton laughed. "Closer to home. We're going to check out the stones under the station."

  "Ah, our very own Martian burial ground."

  "Exactly. It's always the tourist sights in your own backyard that you never get around to seeing."

  Mtumbe smiled and nodded. Then he shivered a bit and pulled his blanket tighter.

  "Hey, Captain?" he said. Then, breaking protocol, "John?"

  "Yes, Daniel?"

  "That Martian burial ground?"

  "Yes?"

  Mtumbe frowned. "See if they've got room for me. I don't think I'll be heading back with you guys."

  Stanton was shaken. "Nonsense," he said. "Don't talk like that. Your white cells just need a little more time to figure out how to kick some Martian bacteria ass. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

  Mtumbe smiled. "I'm sure you're right," he lied.

  Stanton didn't believe it either.

  Chapter 51

  "Change of plan," Stanton announced as he walked back into the commissary. "Mtumbe's in no shape to go anywhere. In fact he needs someone to look after him."

  "I can do it," Lin volunteered.

  "No, Lieutenant," Stanton answered. "Although I'm sure you would be his first choice, I need you to keep examining those tapes. I think they may be the key to figure out what is going on here."

  Lin's shoulders drooped, but she understood why the captain felt as he did.

  "That means I need you to do it, Oksana," Stanton said to the Russian woman.

  Rusakova nodded. "Of course, Captain. But who will watch Aleksandr?"

  Stanton smiled. "Agent Gold and I will. He's coming with us."

  Gold looked up from her breakfast, but instead of protesting, she shook her head, smiled, and went back to eating.

  It was Petrov who voiced concerns. "I am not sure I am in any condition to serve you properly," he said.

  "I don't expect so either," Stanton said. "But I need to keep an eye on you."

  Then Stanton walked over to the Russian. "Besides, Aleksandr. And I mean this sincerely, if you really can speak to the spirit world, then I may well need your talents. That is, if this is in fact a burial ground."

  Petrov nodded. "Oh, it is, Captain. The only question is whether we end up buried there as well."

  Chapter 52

  "This is a bad idea."

  Petrov's voice echoed through the comm link into Stanton's and Gold's helmets. His accent and his disassociative demeanor rendered the voice even more distant and disturbing. It was haunting enough that Stanton couldn’t stop himself from responding, "Shut up, Petrov."

  "He's probably right," Gold piped in. "I'm not sure why we have to do this. At least right now."

  "As far as timing, I don't think we'll get a later," Stanton answered. "As far as doing it at all, or why we're doing it, whatever we're on top of is related to what we saw out there with Dekker. It may well shed light on what happened to the first crew. And if it also sheds some light on Dekker's death, that's even better."

  "Don't forget the whole Ancient Martian Civilization thing," Gold reminded him.

  Stanton looked down at the stone-filled pit uncovered by the sandstorm. Large, smoothly cut, rectangular stones lay perfectly parallel to each other. "I don't think I
could forget that even if I wanted to."

  Petrov leaned forward and gazed at the sight. Stanton and Gold watched him. Stanton wasn't ready to completely dismiss his 'abilities' as the ravings of a mad man. When he'd decided to bring Petrov along it wasn't simply to watch him so Rusakova could attend to Mtumbe. It was also to see if he might have some insight, some sixth sense observation that could help them. And more specifically, might help Mtumbe. Because although Stanton wasn't sure whether or not ghosts existed, he felt very confident that Mtumbe would soon be one if they didn't figure something out quick.

  Gold seemed willing to trust his lead on it. He hadn't told her explicitly what he was thinking. He wasn't even sure he would have been able to. But he felt that Gold understood and although she might not have agreed, she was willing to follow. And help.

  "I guess we'd better head down and examine those stones or something," Stanton said.

  "Nothing like a clear order to inspire confidence," Gold joked.

  But before he could reply, Petrov said, without opening his eyes, "Wait. I sense something here. Something evil. Something ..." he searched for the word, "sad."

  Gold looked at Stanton and raised an eyebrow.

  "Something evil and sad?" Stanton asked.

  "No," Petrov answered. "Or rather, not exactly. There is evil here. And there is sadness. But they are not together. There are in conflict. I can not explain it more than that."

  "Any voices, Aleksandr?" Gold asked.

  Petrov shook his head. "None. Only feelings. Ideas. Emotions. They are strong despite the age of the place."

  "Do you sense anything dangerous?" Stanton asked. "At least dangerous to us?"

  Petrov was silent for a few moments as he considered what he was feeling. "I sense something unfortunate. But it is distant. Like the end of a movie that you can guess at when the film is only half over."

  "Yeah, I hate movies like that," said Gold.

  Stanton looked at her disapprovingly. "Not helping," he said. She shrugged and offered a pretty smile.

  Stanton turned his attention back to the Russian. "Any reason we can't go see these things up close?"