Second generation, p.4
Second Generation, page 4
Leo fought his instincts and tried to stop struggling. He lay there. Not cold, because his suit still protected him but shivering, nonetheless. This would be a stupid way to die, he thought. I’m not ready, was his next thought. The question that followed was ‘why do I want to live?’
He felt a creaking in the ice beside him and saw a shadow out the corner of his eye. A helmet loomed into his field of view. Inside was the face of an old man, a wry smile on his face.
“Got yourself in a pickle, haven’t you?”
“A pickle?”
“A mess. Good job I saw you. Give me your hand. Slowly.”
Leo reached his left hand to the man. Instead of taking it, the man slipped something like a big spatula under Leo’s lifted shoulder. The spatula expanded, sliding under Leo’s body. Only when it had covered a patch of ice about twice the size of Leo did he take the offered hand and lay it in the claw of a machine that had been resting just out of view. Leo felt his wrist gripped and gently pulled. His body slid over the ice on the expanded spatula, now a kind of sled beneath him. The ice around his knee creaked and his leg popped out like a cork from a bottle. He was dragged inelegantly across the broken ice towards the stony beach.
The claw released him. Leo sat up and rubbed his wrist through the suit. Then he rubbed his knee. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Jan.”
“Jan Wojcik?”
“How many Jan’s my age do you know? Jan’s living on the edge of an underground Martian aquifer.”
Leo shrugged.
“You’re Leo Meier.”
Leo shrugged again. Everyone knew who he was, even if he didn’t know them. He was used to it.
“What brings you down here, Leo?”
Leo paused looking at Jan, “May we go inside?” he gestured at the small dome beyond.
“Sure.” Jan took Leo inside where they were able to take off the awkward suits.
Jan had a thin wiry frame, but he still appeared strong. He threw off his helmet and pulled a pair of chairs over to the window, so they had a view of the ice field. “I ought to put up a sign, ‘Thin Ice’, but I bet no one would read it,” he said with a droll smile.
“I guess you don’t get many visitors,” said Leo, pulling the suit off, over his legs. His knee felt sore where it had been trapped and he rubbed at it to get the circulation going again.
“Who sent you?”
“My mother.”
Jan nodded. “How is Verena?”
Leo shrugged, “Busy.”
Jan looked carefully at Leo, “She’s always been busy. Must be a difficult act to follow.”
Leo looked up, surprised by Jan’s acuity. “My sister Lena seems to have managed it better than me.”
“Which is why Verena sent you to talk to me.” Leo was beginning to understand why she had sent him to this sprightly sharp hermit. “What interests you?”
“Earth,” said Leo, without really thinking.
“Hmm. Why?”
“Because it still has free flowing water, unlike Mars. Because it may still have life.”
“Do you intend to go there?”
“Too far, too many resources, too risky.”
“But you have reason to think it may be worth the risk?”
“Yes.”
“Then persuade people.”
“I’m not good with people.”
“You think you’re not, so you don’t try.”
Leo put his head on one side, taking in Jan and his words. “What makes you think that?”
“Why else would you seek out a loner like yourself?”
Leo nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. “Do you find it difficult to talk to people?”
“Not especially. I’m just comfortable with my own company. And I’m an old man, with less and less to say to the younger generations.”
“Seems lonely.”
“Not really, though I miss Charlie. She was my partner. Died of cancer, like your dad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. You must miss Cathal. Must have made it more difficult for you: no dad, workaholic mum, eyes of the city on the firstborn of Mars. I’d have hated that.”
“You would?”
“Yes. I don’t like attention. That’s another reason I’m down here. I was the first person to set foot on Mars.”
“Of course, you were!” exclaimed Leo. “The other glider crashed, so you were the first to survive the landing.”
“It was a tragic accident. I was meant to be second, not first. I think that’s why I empathised with Verena. Everyone in the first team was calling her a Seconder. Sounds benign, but it was a dirty word at the time. Toxic.”
“People don’t always get to choose whether they are first of second.”
“I didn’t. I’m nothing special, I just happened to be in the right place. It was luck, just like you.”
“Bad luck.”
“Depends on how you look at it. Some think we ought to be honoured, special even. I just think it’s a random circumstance. I get on with my job, hunting out new seams of minerals to mine. I like it. Allows me to collect curiosities like this,” Jan showed Leo a shard of stone with a strange, speckled pattern of tiny pits.
“What is it?”
“Wish I knew. Found it a few days ago. My first though was to take it to the geologist, Johanna. Then I realised she passed away a few years back. Made me sad. I know there are others trained in geology but… haven’t got the energy to go find them yet.”
Leo smiled sadly at the old colonist. He started to realise how hard it must be to watch his closest friends die, one by one.
“Here, you take it,” said Jan, offering Leo the stone. “Perhaps you can show it to someone who might know what made that pattern.”
Leo turned it over in his hands. Looking closer the pits seemed to have a consistent oval shape and some had odd faint halos around them. “So, you carry on hunting for minerals.”
“It gives me a sense of purpose,” nodded Jan.
“I’d like to have a sense of purpose.”
“Sounds like you do. But perhaps you’re too busy letting all the random circumstances get you down.”
Leo looked across the fragile ice field outside. “Hmm.”
“Verena was right to send you down here.”
“I nearly died.”
“But you didn’t. I found you and helped you.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t want you contaminating our water supply,” Jan gave another wry smile.
“Is that what it is?”
“Yes, there’s an electric immersion heater under the ice, thawing it, allowing it to be pumped to the city. Ice forms over the water where it’s exposed to the cold. A little like what used to happen at the poles.”
“My younger brother, Hal is at the north pole.”
“I know, brave guy. Hard being so far from Tithonium. He sends me a copy of his reports now and then, when he wants a perspective on mining and rocks. I’m not a geologist, but I know a few things about rocks.”
“I think Hal wants to get away from our mother, like me.”
“Your mother is a good woman, but like all of us, she has her faults. She didn’t cope well when Cathal died. I found it hard when Charlie died. We all need someone, Leo. Even the loners. Verena may not be good at saying it, but I suspect she needs you.”
“She’s The Architect. She doesn’t need anyone.”
“Really?”
“Well, Lena’s helping her.”
“Verena needs all of us to make life here possible. This is a team effort; always has been. I may be a loner, but I know my place in this team and try to help when needed. Like now. Maybe you need to start ignoring whatever you think people expect of you and ask them to help. You’d be surprised, your mother was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Verena never expected me to come with her and build a new dome here at Tithonium,” said Jan quietly, “But I said yes. So did half the colony. If you have a vision, tell someone, you’d be amazed how many might share it.”
Leo was taken aback by Jan’s words. He’d never thought his yearnings for Earth were anything other than an idle dream. As his mouth opened and closed, unsure how to respond, a message bleeped on Jan’s comms tablet. “You get messages down here?” asked Leo.
“Sure. There are relay points on all the stairs and tunnels. I may be a loner, but I’m not stupid,” he smiled. “Sorry, do you mind if I take a look?”
“No problem,” said Leo. His head was starting to fill with possibilities, like water pouring into a pool.
Jan opened his tablet. Like all Martians he used a device the size of an old mobile phone that he had strapped to his hip. He tapped the surface to activate a projection field which his hands could manipulate, opening files and vids. His brow furrowed deeply as he read the message. After a few moments his greying eyebrows rose, and he turned back to Leo. “I have a message from Hal.”
“You do?” asked Leo.
“Normally his questions are straightforward. This one’s not,” he tuned the projection around so Leo could see. There was a photo of an almost perfectly oval tunnel through ice. It had gentle undulations in the tunnel walls, furrows at identical spacing.
“What is it?” asked Leo.
“That’s what Hal’s just asked,” said Jan, perplexed.
“Looks like a man-made tunnel in the ice,” said Leo leaning closer.
“It does, doesn’t it,” said Jan. “Except there are no records of any mines or exploratory trips to the north pole of Mars. Hal’s small team are the first human beings to go there.”
Leo sat back, scratching his head, “What are you saying?”
“It doesn’t look like a natural phenomenon. But none of us did that.”
4
The Signal
The Observatory, Tithonium City, Mars – Demetria Philippou
“But I was just there, fetching Dad!” sighed Demetria into the mic tuned to her tablet.
“Sorry,” said Trish, “but this isn’t a conversation we can have over the Tithonium network.”
Trish’s words had been playing over and over in Demetria’s mind as she took the funicular back up to the observatory. Martians had secrets, just like any humans ever had, but they tended to be low key. Surprises, grudges, affairs. Few bothered sifting the network looking for scandal, they usually had more important things to do. So, what did Trish need to say face-to-face?
Demetria had apologised to Lena and left to find out. By the time she knocked on Trish’s office door at the observatory she was worrying it might be bad news about Leo.
“Hi Demetria, come sit with us,” said Trish, waving at a chair between her and Sam. She sat up and smiled, “And don’t look so worried!”
“I am worried,” admitted Demetria, searching Trish’s kind and wrinkled face for some clues. “Is it about Dad?”
“Not directly,” begun Trish.
“Perhaps you should listen to this,” said Sam, reaching over to the touchscreen beside him. He tapped a file marked ‘Ea-001-001’ which opened in an audio app, displaying a series of repeated vibrations while the speaker played an echoing chime over and over. It sounded mournful. Remote.
Demetria listened, frowning, wondering what it reminded her of. Sonar? Not regular enough for that. There was a repeating pattern, but she had no idea what it could mean. “Okay, what is it?”
“A more interesting question is, where has it come from,” said Sam.
“Don’t play with her,” said Trish, softly.
Demetria shrugged, confused.
“It is a signal from Earth,” continued Sam.
“…”
“The first signal we have ever received since Goliath obliterated the surface of the planet,” added Trish.
Demetria felt her mouth drop open but wasn’t sure what to fill the empty space with.
“We’re checking this, of course,” continued Trish, “but we’re as sure as we can be without further satellite cross-referencing. Others may stumble across the same signal soon, but as far as we’re aware, the only people who know, are in this room.”
“Why?”
“We haven’t deciphered the signal yet, so we’ve no idea who sent it or why. It seems automated because it repeats in a loop, but that just begs the question why it should have started now?”
“No, I mean… why tell me?”
“Because, if true, we think this affects your generation more than anyone else,” said Sam.
“Because you’re the eldest of your generation and straddle the gap between them and Leo’s,” added Trish, “Because we’d go nuts if we didn’t tell someone!”
“But… why not tell Leo? He practically lives up here with you guys.”
“I know what his reaction would be,” explained Sam, cautious. “He’d want to go to Earth. Straight away. No questions asked.”
“That’s no small thing,” explained Trish. “It would consume a huge portion of our resources, delay expansion, slow exploration of Mars. All the things we were sent here to do.”
“From what I learned, we were sent here to survive,” said Demetria. “Pure and simple.”
“Which is why we wanted you to know first,” said Trish. “If anyone goes to Earth, they may not come back. Spaceflight is a risk. Going to a planet wrecked by an extinction event is a massive risk. It must be something your generation wants, not just ours or Leo’s.”
Demetria got up and walked to the window, overlooking Tithonium Chasma. The sun was falling at the western end of the valley, an orange globe sliding across the cliff walls of the Valles Marineras, setting them alight. Her home. Did she want to leave her home on the chance there might still be life on her grandparents’ planet? Would she risk sending someone to find out?
“Surely this isn’t my decision?” Demetria answered.
“No. Not alone. But we want you to start discreet discussions with some of your friends,” said Trish. “Those you can trust to keep it quiet a while. We have a few days before the data comes in from the other satellites confirming the origin of the signal. We also want to try deciphering it, so we’ve got a little time before we’re obliged to go public. Would you?”
Demetria looked back out the window again. The sun was now brushing the edge of the cliffs, caressing them with crimson. “Okay.”
Wild Wild Rust Bar, Tithonium City, Mars – Demetria Phillipou
“Hey, a message from little blue men on Earth!” laughed Chen, flicking his mop of dark hair across his face. His easy humour was usually charming, but Demetria found it annoying now.
“Shh! Keep your voice down,” she hissed, already regretting the venue she’d chosen. Discreet was the word Trish had used. In retrospect, the wine bar was far from discreet, but it was where Demetria normally met her friends. Asking them to meet elsewhere would only have raised more questions. Fortunately, the chatter around them was so noisy it was difficult to pick out any one conversation unless you concentrated.
Samaira clasped her wine glass neatly with both delicate hands, frowned and leaned in, “Is this genuine? I mean, who told you and why?” She was a grandchild of Santiago Ferreira, the Spanish second team structural engineer and Sunil Patel, the Indian first team meteorologist. Like many second-generation Martians, she had a fascinating ethnic mix with light brown skin and those strange amber rims to the irises of her eyes. She had Santiago’s calm logic and Sunil’s fascination for the weather.
“Elders,” said Demetria carefully. “Elders with access to listening tech and the knowledge to discern whether it’s genuine or not.”
“Well, that narrows it down a bit,” said Peter Grayson, “sounds like my grandparents.”
Demetria bit her lip, neither acknowledging nor denying his shrewd guess. She should have known he’d work it out. Tithonium City was a small place, despite its aspirations. More a village of interrelated families, than a city.
“So, I’m right then,” Peter gave a thin smile. Not arrogant or smug, just satisfied that he had worked it out. He was very much like his grandfather, Sam. The same sharp chin, rounded forehead, and careful deliberate speech.
Demetria held his eye a moment then sipped at her glass, watching the changing bar lights throw shades of crimson and scarlet through the wine. Choice of alcohol on Mars was limited to red wine or liqueurs. Anything that required fizz or chilling took too much energy. Too much for a luxury, that is. “They want to know how Martians our age would think about going to find the source.”
“You’re kidding me,” chuckled Chen, then saw the look on Demetria’s face. “You’re not kidding. Hell! Did I miss something? Aren’t we here because Earth was, like, obliterated? You can’t be seriously thinking of going there… can you?”
“You know Earth wasn’t obliterated. It took a terrible beating, but the planet is still there.”
“Yeah, but it’s like Mars now, nothing out there.”
“We don’t know that. In fact, we’re starting to see gaps in the cloud cover,” by ‘we’ she meant her father. “I’m told it looks blue. Likely sea water.”
“So, the signal’s coming from little blue fish-men?” Chen raised his eyebrows, incredulous.
“We don’t know!” exclaimed Demetria, increasingly exasperated and defensive.
“Chill it Chen,” said Samaira, putting her hand on Demetria’s shoulder. “She wouldn’t be talking to us about it if there wasn’t some real prospect that there’s still life on Earth. Am I right?”
Demetria nodded.
“Grandma thinks the survival of some life is possible,” said Peter. “Granddad’s not so sure, I heard them arguing about it before. But in the end, he admitted it was a possibility.”
“But like, after all this time?” asked Chen, shaking his head.
“Two generations later,” said Peter, “If there were survivors, they’d have been like our grandparents: busy surviving. Their offspring would have been trying to make life bearable. But the second generation… well, they’d be like us. They’d be trying to make something of the place. Maybe even looking around for others.”
“So, you think the signal was sent by someone, not something?” asked Samaira.
