Mars One

by Jonathan Maberry

  Sophie was going to be doing most of the food prep on our ship, but I need to explain that she wouldn’t be doing much actual cooking. Most of the food was already prepared. She would cook on Mars, though. Not sure how or what. A lot of that depended on how well the supplies made it on the unmanned missions and how effective my dad was. Mostly Sophie took thermo-stabilized packets of food, added water, stuck it in a microwave, and passed it out. Mind you, we could do that ourselves, but everyone needed a job to fight the tedium of the long flight. Besides, she added a little spice here and there and somehow made it taste okay. Even so, it wasn’t like she was laboring all day long in the galley. I thought she’d be bored, but she was always smiling. She wore earbuds all the time. Not sure what she was listening to, but it seemed to keep her happy.

  I thought about all this while I floated slowly back and forth along the wall that most of the crew still thought of as the ceiling. That would change, but for now it was a quiet place. Everyone was busy with something. Luther was still doing marathon bathroom runs. Zoé was just starting to get space sick and was turning different shades of gray, green, and purple. My mom was checking everything. She did that a lot. Dad was in his greenhouse making sure that all of his dirt and seeds survived the launch. Nirti was with her folks.

  And suddenly I realized something that I already knew but never really understood.

  This was it.

  The actual it. We were in space, traveling away from Earth at incredible speeds. I pulled myself over to one of the portholes, grabbed a strap to stabilize myself, and hung there watching Earth get smaller and smaller. Watched it get farther and farther away. I became intensely aware that I was not being pulled toward Earth anymore. Not really. Sure, we’d be within Earth’s gravitational pull for a while, but the planet wasn’t trying to drag me back. Or take me back.

  It let me go. The whole world let me go.

  Izzy let me go.

  And . . . now I was gone. I placed my hand flat against the glass. My palm covered the blue planet completely. As if it was not there at all.

  Chapter 61

  * * *

  The communications specialist, Lehman, floated up and tapped me on the shoulder. It woke me up and I was immediately surprised that I’d fallen asleep. I sputtered and thrashed for a second, but Lehman put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  “Take it easy, Tristan,” he said. He was one of those people who didn’t have much of a sense of humor, but there were no spikes, either. Nice in a vanilla kind of way. You always knew where you were with him.

  “What is it?” I demanded, still not back in my own head. “What’s wrong?”

  He smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s showtime.”

  It took me a few seconds to process that, then, “Oh,” I said.

  “Oh,” he agreed. “Time to get real.”

  That was what he always said. Get real as in get ready to do a segment of the ongoing reality show that would be part of our daily lives for as long as the network kept writing checks.

  I knew we were each supposed to do a segment to share our launch-day experiences, but somehow during the whole launch thing I forgot. And I really didn’t want to, even though this was actually something that still connected me to everyone back home. The reality show people wanted us to go, but they didn’t want us to go away.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He nodded and kicked off from the wall with an easy grace that I envied. Lehman hadn’t spent any more time up here than I had, but he seemed to have taken to micro-g as if it was more natural to him than walking on Earth. Weird.

  And it made me want to practice some to try and match that. If I put some time in on it I could be miles ahead of Luther by the time he was done throwing up the entire lining of his stomach.

  I pulled myself into one of the private niches we called “com-pods.” They were soundproof and just about the only place on the ship other than our sleep pods and the toilets where anyone could actually be alone. It was a bit like sitting inside a big eggshell. Same shape, same color. There was an ultra-high-def screen, built-in microphones, and a keyboard for typing messages that could be sent to the production team, posted as an information crawl, or sent as private messages.

  Because all of this bleeding-edge communications equipment was paid for by corporate sponsors, and the biggest check writers were the reality shows. We each signed contracts to appear in the interview booths at least once a day. The sessions were like the ones on the reality shows on Earth. They asked you questions to get you started, but really you were supposed to talk out loud as if you were keeping a diary. Once I sealed the com-pod and logged in, the logo for the network popped onto the screen and a second later there was Mindy. All fiery red hair and bright white teeth. I flinched when I saw what was behind her. She was broadcasting live from the Drakes’ living room.

  “Aaaand a big hello to space traveler Tristan Hart from everyone back here on planet Earth!” she said. I heard applause from inside the house but offscreen, and a rumble of muted noise that told me there were people outside. Mindy probably had big screens set up so the crowds on the street could see.

  I wanted to resent her for it. Instead I smiled and yelled, “Hello, earthlings!”

  The crowd went nuts.

  Chapter 62

  * * *

  So yeah, I actually had fun.

  Mindy had my teachers there, some kids from school, Herc, and of course Izzy. Everyone laughed a lot, all of us cried a little. But it did not suck.

  At one point when Izzy was on, I gave her a little nod and pretended to scratch my chest. Really I was touching my heart and she knew it. She touched the button of her blouse that was over the same spot. She also raised one eyebrow and I gave her a tiny nod.

  Talk later. In private.

  When the session was done the last image was Mindy, standing right in front of the couch so that she blocked Izzy. So it was just her filling the screen with her too-white teeth and hair extensions.

  She said something that was probably corny and scripted, but I didn’t even listen. Izzy leaned out to peer around Mindy. Herc leaned out to do the same on her other side. Photobombing. Nice.

  The screen went dark.

  I sat in the com-pod for ten minutes, feet braced against the wall to push me back into the seat. That position made it feel like there was gravity. A cheap thrill for space travelers.

  “I love you, Izzy,” I told the blank screen.

  Swear to God I could hear her say the same thing.

  One second later the alarm bells began ringing all over the ship.

  Chapter 63

  * * *

  The amplified voice of Director Colpeys came punching through the alarm bell. “All crew members please report to the common room. This is an emergency meeting.”

  Everyone scrambled. We all went . . . well, not running. Floating? Flying? Whatevering. I did a ceiling crawl so fast I didn’t even grab the handholds. More like slapped them to keep me moving. I nearly collided with Luther, who was coming out of one of the toilets. His face was the color of a rotting eggplant, but even sick as he was he leaped up to follow me.

  “What is it?” he called.

  “Don’t know,” I said.

  We reached the common room and flung ourselves inside. Most of the others were already there. Zoé and Nirti were hanging together, holding hands, looking scared. I spotted Mom hovering near Colpeys, with Dad hanging back. Sophie Enfers was hovering by one of the microwaves. She saw me and nodded. Everyone was talking, chattering, asking questions, filling the common room with noise.

  The alarm cut off and Colpeys held up a hand and had to shout to be heard. “Please!” he cried. “Please, everyone settle down. There is no cause for alarm. There is no danger.”

  Luther looked pissed for having been dragged out of the bathroom. “Then why the alarms?”

  His dad, who looked exactly the way Luther will probably look in twenty-five years, shushed him, but Colpeys made an apologeti
c face.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed, “the crew notification alarm volume setting was too high. We’ll adjust that in the future.”

  The crowd fell quiet and there were as many hostile looks as confused ones.

  “What is happening?” asked Mr. Mbede in a more civilized tone than his son had used. “Is there a problem of some kind?”

  “No,” said Colpeys, “not with the ships or the crews. Everything is in the green.”

  “Then what?” asked my mom.

  Colpeys cleared his throat. “It’s the Red Dragon.”

  And the common room went dead silent. Colpeys was sweating. Lines of it ran down his face. “We have received an update from our friends at NASA and I’m afraid the news is going to hit us all very hard.”

  Your stomach can’t sink in micro-g, but it can try real hard. Everyone was still, staring, scared by what was coming.

  “We have confirmed that the ship launched from the Shanghai Wheel was not, in fact, a transit vehicle.” He looked around, meeting our eyes. “We have verification from China that it is an unmanned support vessel whose primary payload includes a rover and a satellite.”

  Luther said, “What—?”

  Mom frowned at Colpeys. “Did you say ‘unmanned’?”

  “Yes,” said Colpeys in a voice that seemed ready to crack. “This morning, a few hours after our launch, the president of China announced that the Red Dragon is the second ship they’ve sent to Mars. The first, known as the Golden Dragon, was launched from their deep-space platform twenty-two months ago. The launch was not noticed on Earth because it was accomplished during a fifty-eight-minute gap in satellite surveillance. No one was looking, and that is what the Chinese wanted.”

  The silence was absolutely crushing. There wasn’t enough air to breathe and all the lights were too bright. I heard someone start crying and turned to see Zoé bury her face against her mother’s chest. Other people were crying too. My eyes were dry and they felt like they were welded open.

  Colpeys cleared his throat again. “However . . . there’s more and it’s not good. The Chinese admitted that they lost all contact with Golden Dragon months ago. No radio signals, no telemetry. All the Chinese know for certain is that the ship reached Mars and is in orbit.”

  “How true is the orbit?” asked Tony Chu.

  “It’s good. They’re orbiting four hundred and sixty miles from the surface.”

  “Isn’t that a little high?”

  “It’s, ah . . . unusual.”

  “Does that mean they’ve landed?” asked Luther.

  Colpeys shook his head. “That has yet to be determined.” Before we could barrage him with more questions he held up a hand. “There’s more, so let me bring you up to speed with what I know. Coordinates for the proposed Golden Dragon landing site have now been shared with NASA and other agencies, and satellites are being retasked in an attempt to find the crew. However, Mars is a big planet. If they landed anywhere but on their designated down-point, then that will make locating them very difficult. Even if all of them are alive and well—and we pray this is so—it would still be a small settlement. Although their ship appears to be intact, neither the Chinese nor NASA has a good angle on it to determine if it is damaged or what kind of damage might be present.”

  “Why haven’t they said anything before this?” asked Nirti. “How come we’re just finding out about this now?”

  Colpeys looked pained. “The Chinese government has a history of secrecy that has often been a hindrance to its own better interests. It is an ongoing policy for the People’s Republic to resist admitting failure or defeat. Had they been more open, there is no doubt that NASA, the Russians, and other agencies—public and private—might have been able to help. Now they are at a worst-case-scenario moment. Because of the inevitability of our arrival on Mars, they have decided to break their self-imposed silence.” He gave us a small, sad smile. “It speaks to the integrity of the larger space exploration community that no one is publicly chastising them. Instead, everyone is stepping up to offer whatever assistance is possible.”

  “What can we do?” asked Luther.

  “That remains to be seen,” said Colpeys.

  “What can anyone do?” asked Sophie.

  “Well, a lot of things are possible,” said the director, “but quite frankly no one has any answers at the moment. The Red Dragon payload includes a rover that will be deployed to try and find the lander, or debris, on the surface. They’re also bringing a new generation of survey satellite that will be put in orbit to help hunt for evidence.”

  “Why didn’t the Chinese send a rescue team?” asked someone.

  “They’re prepping one,” said Colpeys, “but they didn’t have one ready to go and as you all know that takes a great deal of timing and planning. They did have the unmanned ship prepped for the rover and satellite delivery already, so that’s what was launched.”

  “They’re looking for bodies not survivors,” said Tony.

  “Let’s hope not. The Chinese are making every effort to try to find the Golden Dragon’s lander and its crew.”

  I saw Mom mouth the word try.

  “How many people were on the ship?” asked Dad.

  Colpeys floated to the big screen on the wall and touched a button. Images began filling the screen. One by one smaller windows appeared, each with a photograph of a smiling face. Twenty-two of them, all Chinese. Most of them were adults, but there were three teenagers among them. Two boys and a girl. Luther and I looked at each other, and for a moment his face lost its cocky smile. The three kids were about our own age. The boys were Cheng and Da. The girl was named Ting. Someone told me later that Ting means “enduring.” God, I hoped that was true for her.

  The twenty-two faces looked at us, and I could almost imagine them whispering our names. Calling us. Asking us to come find them in all that cold darkness.

  “Nooit,” murmured Luther. Afrikaans for “no way.”

  Mr. De Jaeger spoke up. “Jurgen, is there more to this? Is there something else you’re not telling us?”

  It was clear from the way his mouth twitched that Colpeys didn’t want to keep dropping bombs on us, but Zoé’s dad had called him out. He took a breath. “Although, as I said, we, um, don’t have all of the information we need, NASA believes that the Chinese colony landing capsule may still be attached to the transit vehicle.”

  We all stared at him in shocked horror.

  Colpeys licked his lips. “If that is true, then the crew is still aboard the Golden Dragon. However, all attempts to reach the crew have been unsuccessful.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Nirti. “Why would they stay on their ship all this time? They wouldn’t have enough supplies for everyone for this many months. Wouldn’t the Chinese have sent the bulk of their supplies by unmanned rocket, just like we did?”

  “Yes,” Colpeys said gravely. “A supply rocket was sent two years before the crew left, so the recent flight is technically the third mission. That first rocket’s payload included a habitat, food, and other supplies. However, that will only matter if the crew made it down to the surface. But . . . if they are still alive and aboard the ship, then, ah . . . their food would have run out four months ago.”

  “God almighty,” I heard someone say. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was all of us.

  “Even if they went to half or third rations?”

  “I’m afraid so. That estimate is based on bare-minimum rations. As with our own program, the Chinese have admitted that they sent two supply rockets prior to the Red Dragon’s launch. All of the food and supplies their colony would need are down on the planet.”

  We stared at him, then at each other. What Colpeys didn’t say—what he didn’t need to say—was that even if the Chinese colonists were alive on their ship, we could never get there in time to save them. Not one chance in ten trillion.

  If they were still somehow alive, then by the time we got to Mars, their ship would be a tomb. A steel cof
fin in a decaying orbit. Once we landed we’d always be watching the sky, waiting for that day when the Golden Dragon fell into the atmosphere and burned up. Damn.

  Sophie came up beside me. “Space hates us all,” she said quietly. Almost more to herself than to me. When I turned to her, she shook her head and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “What happened to them?” asked Zoé, her voice hollow and hushed. I glanced up but all Colpeys could do was shake his head.

  “The Chinese space administration does not know,” he said. “We don’t know either. Nobody knows. NASA is retasking two of its satellites to try to get a closer look at the ship. Until we have clear pictures, all we can do is guess. And pray for the lives of the colonists on that ship. We must pray that they have found some way to survive.”

  He meant it too, I’ll give him that. It was clear he wanted them to be okay. I’d like to think all of us aboard the Huginn and the Muninn felt the same way.

  But there were so many things wrong with this picture. I mean, why was the capsule still there? Why hadn’t the Chinese crew gone down to the surface? If the capsule was damaged, why hadn’t they called it in to their own people? What had happened to the ship? And what had happened to the crew? Twenty-two people were out there. Three of them were kids my own age. Maybe dead. Maybe starving to death.

  This was our first day in space.

  Chapter 64

  * * *

  Zoé and Luther were still too space sick to get together, and Nirti was so upset about the Chinese ship that she stayed with her parents for most of the next few days. We talked for a few seconds, though, and she looked haunted and wrecked, but also guilty.