by Sean Clark
The object still gleams in the distance. Cecil pushes himself forward though the deep sand. The alarm beeps slowly in his ear. With each beep, Cecil places one leg in front of the other. The object draws closer; glass and metal, shining in the poor light.
The object grows closer- the corner of something man-made. The beeping plays faster, and Cecil can no longer keep up. One step for every two beeps. Within reach, Cecil collapses. Whatever it is, the thing had been mostly buried in sand. Fumbling with the big clumsy gloves, Cecil starts digging.
With each armful of unforgiving sand, his breathing becomes harder. Blocking the beeping out of his mind, he continues digging. Beyond the glass is a room, dark and seemingly endless. More digging reveals a door hinge. With each scoop, a wave of sand flows back into the hole. Cecil moves faster. The bottom of the door comes into view along with a handle on the opposite side. Cecil gasps for air.
He had been able to clear enough space around the door, just wide enough for him to slide into. Sand flows in after him, collecting against another door just inside, the second section to a basic airlock. Cecil quickly scoops out some of the sand, and slams the door behind him. After fiddling with the second door, it pops open, allowing Cecil to collapsed inside.
Without thinking, Cecil pops off the helmet. The air is stale, but it relieves the burning in his lungs nonetheless. Cecil takes a deep breath.
Chapter 35
Laying on the floor, taking in gulps of air, Cecil can see a cloud of condensation form each time he breathes out in the dim light. Light leaks in through the outside airlock door. Giving the inner door a kick, it slams shut with a shower of more sand and dust.
Cecil can smell the faint earthy smell of the material adhering to his gloves. Grains of sand had entered around his neck and began to grate against his skin. Contorting around, Cecil manages to pop open the button on the back of the suit, allowing it to be zipped down. Crawling on the ground, he slithers out of the suit and out onto the cold floor.
His eyes slowly adjust to the light. Sand had been blown up against the windows that surrounded the walls, allowing light peek through in a few places. The structure continues, the depths hidden in darkness. The floor feels as if it has a slight angle to it, sloping downwards into the darkness.
After laying down for what felt like forever, Cecil rolls over to get to his feet. Still shaky, he regains his footing. The ceiling is low, close enough to touch. He reaches his hand up and runs his fingers across the smooth cold surface. His fingers meet with a big round object mounted above him; a button. Pushing it makes a click, followed by a bulb flashed on, bathing the space in light.
Pegs run across the walls, all empty except for one, holding up an antique-looking space suit. It is the same one he had seen in the book from the library. Cecil walks closer to examine it. The black backing of a Velcro patch is sewn into the suit, lacking a nametag that would have been stuck to it, denoting it as a spare suit.
Moving deeper into structure, Cecil can see more lights mounted to the ceiling. Moving to the next one, he pushes it in, but the click fails to produce another light source. Twisting it off reveals rusted, corroded batteries inside; old-fashioned AA’s.
A long table sits beside him in the middle of the room, appearing as if it had been arranged neatly on purpose. Plastic mugs sit neatly upside down on a wash cloth, as if left to dry. Cecil sits the light fixture down neatly on the table, and turns around to grab the working light off the ceiling.
[2]Cecil shines it around, looking deeper into the structure. Shallow bunks had been built into each side of the structure; four on each side. Each bunk seems to be made neatly, except for one.
Approaching the final one, the small bunk contains a few pieces of unfolded clothing on top of it, along with a few other trinkets that he is unable to recognize. Cecil draws closer and tosses the things to the side. A hardcover book had been mixed in with what seemed like clutter. The cover is detailed intricately. Turning it over, Cecil examined the front. Qur’an.
Quickly dropping the book, Cecil backs off. He feels weak. Heading back to the center of the structure, Cecil fiddles through the cabinets. There remain a few foil-packed rations still hiding in the corners of some of them. Holding the light in one hand, he tears open the corner with his mouth and moves to the table.
Cecil tosses the package down. He can see the clouds of breath coming out of his mouth, becoming aware that he is in no more than a skin-tight suit. Cecil scans the bunks, finally returning to the messy one. A foil blanket had been tucked among the clutter. Throwing it over his shoulders, he returns to the table.
The light casts an eerie glow, placed face up on the table. Cecil pulls out the crumbly cake and munches it down, leaving his mouth dry and with an unpleasant taste. Securing the blanket around himself, he walks to the sink and attempts pushing the button to turn it on, but nothing comes out. Dejectedly returning to the table, Cecil stares down at the light and the grouping of rations sat on the table. Exhausted, he pulls the blanket over himself and places his head down on the table, closing his eyes.
___
Half asleep, Cecil jumps. He can feel a slight rumbling outside the structure. The light had grown dim. Moving around the structure, Cecil attempts to glance out one of the barely uncovered windows. Outside, the grains of sand dance against the glass as the rumbling grows closer.
Suddenly, it stops.
Cecil marches to the door, kicking the discarded suit aside, the foil shroud rustling with every step. Putting his face up against the cold surface, he attempts to peer out. Outside, he spots movement, and he quickly backs away from the door.
A familiar suit, albeit obscured by the thick pane, waddles around outside. He can hear the helmet knock against the outside of the structure as the occupant attempts to survey the interior. The seal on the exterior door creaks as it swings open and closed again. More cold air comes in as the second door follows.
Cecil stands motionless in the dark. The suit obscures the face of whoever is inside. Cecil feels his stomach clench as the figure lifts their arms to remove the helmet. The seal releases, letting out a small burst of air. A familiar bald head appears.
“Agrippa.” Cecil says, barely above a whisper.
“Cecil.” He responds, teeth clenched. Stomping forward in the bulky suit, Agrippa reaches out for him, planting his glove tightly onto Cecil’s shoulder. Cecil looks down at the hand, but is taken off guard by a sturdy punch that follows through into Cecil’s chest.
Cecil stumbles backwards, falling over a chair leg onto the ground. Agrippa stumbles the same, recoiling his arm back.
“Goddamnit, Cecil.” The old man sputters. “What the fuck are you trying to do, coming all the way out here?”
Cecil hides his face, picking himself up and scooting back into the dark. “How did you find me here?” He squeaks.
“I followed your god damn footsteps in the sand.” Agrippa raves. “I woke up when I heard the airlock release up above. When you weren’t there beside me, I assumed the worst. I hoped, sincerely, that for a moment you had grown an ounce of sense and that it wasn’t you, but I was proven wrong. I called over to have someone drive a rover over to Secundus, hoping the whole time that I would be able to track you down outside. Luckily, all I had to do was follow the nice trail you left behind all the way out here.”
“I’m sorry.” Cecil whimpers.
“I can’t do this anymore, Cecil. I can’t come after you each time you go off somewhere to try to find yourself.” Spit flies out of Agrippa’s mouth. “It’s like you don’t want to be helped.”
“I wasn’t thinking, Agrippa. It felt like I was in a daze.”
“Well you’re here now. I don’t assume you can just march back on your own now either? Do you want me to leave you here so you can spend time to figure yourself out, once and for all?” Agrippa breathes heavily, fire dancing in his eyes.
“I think I know why I was lead here. Do you know what this place is?”
�
�I don’t know, some old abandoned research facility? Who cares, Cecil?”
“We’re in the Aventum Crater. This is the station- the original one. This was home to the people who came here on the first expedition to Mars.” Cecil sits up, staring down Agrippa.
“You mean the one Qaseem was a part of? How do you know that?” Agrippa asks, slightly calmer.
Cecil stands up and moves the stool aside, making room for Agrippa to squeeze by. Cecil walks slowly to the back bunk, presenting it to Agrippa. The Qur’an had been left where Cecil had dropped it atop the covers.
“I see.” Agrippa hums. He sighs deeply before sitting down cross legged, suit creaking. “It seems they left all of his things here, as a sort of memorial.”
“Back on Earth, we were able to talk to one of the members of the team who was still alive. Niilo was his name. He said Quaseem just disappeared one night, after escaping from quarantine.”
Agrippa starts to sort through the pile, pulling out a necklace of beads with a pendant, seemingly hand carved. He picks it up in his hands and examined it.
“What does it say?” Cecil says, peering at it from the side.
“’qad allah tajlub lak almanzil’. Something like, ‘May Allah- God, bring you home.’ It must have been a gift for him before he left.”
“That’s so sad.” Cecil says, solemnly. “In a way, he was brought to the home of his creator, instead.”
“In this age of technology and science, it’s hard to keep faith. Ancient philosophers looked up at the sky and said, ‘that’s heaven.’” Agrippa gestures upwards. “They believed that one day they would go there for salvation. Now we’re all the way out here, and we haven’t found even a sliver of it.”
“Qaseem came out here, and stayed true to his beliefs nonetheless. He felt abandoned by his crewmates, even though they could do nothing. He took it upon himself to leave on his own, and to spare them watching him die.” Cecil lingers.
“And the space agency repaid him by allowing the world to virtually forget about him.” Agrippa says, gripping the necklace in his hand. He stands, offering the opposite hand to Cecil. “Perhaps this planet is harboring his hatred now, causing us to fall sick, lose our sanity, and just… suffer at the hands of this planet.”
“After what I’ve experienced, it makes sense. It truly does. Galen talked about getting his body back to Earth.” Cecil recounts, helping Agrippa to stand. “I think we need to do more than that. We need to tell people of Earth about him… about everything. Then he may finally be at peace.”
“What do you mean ‘everything’?” Agrippa asks, adjusting his suit.
“About the work conditions we’re put through here, about how cryo sleep is turning astronauts into zombies, about the sickness that is spreading. The people of planet Earth have forgotten about us up here, basically waiting for the day that they get to skip all the hard work and just come here to live.”
A tapping on the glass startles Cecil out of his speech. Agrippa turns to the door, where another space suited figure is standing outside.
“Markus.” Agrippa says, grabbing the helmet and speaking into the microphone inside. “I’ve got him.”
“Don’t leave without a fight old man.” Cecil can hear Markus’s voice faintly through the speaker.
“Are you ready to go then?” Agrippa says, turning back to Cecil.
“I think I am.” Cecil nods. Agrippa fiddles with his own suit, unstrapping a spare air canister. Cecil moves to the door where his own space suit had been discarded on the ground. He undoes the empty canister on the back, throwing it to the ground with a hollow clunk.
The cylinder rolls off into the darkness. As Cecil steps into the suit, he looks back at the bunk. “What do you want to do with his things?”
“We can come back sometime later and make sure that all of his personal effects are returned to Earth with him.”
Cecil nods, pulling the suit up past his shoulders. Playing with the controls on his wrist, the radio crackles on inside his own helmet. “Markus, we’ll be right out.”
“Damn, it’s good to hear your voice, Cecil.”
Putting on the helmet, Cecil breathes in the familiar tasting compressed air. Cecil and Agrippa squeeze into the airlock one by one, alternating the doors. Markus sits outside, waiting atop beside a rover. “It’s crazy how long a structure like this lasts out here… or that there would be breathable air.” He ponders out loud. “It must have been here for twenty years.”
“Try forty.” Cecil replies.
“Like from the beginning of the Mars program? I don’t believe it.” Markus rebuts.
“We’ll fill you in on the details. Bring us home, Mark.” Agrippa orders.
Chapter 36
The hangar door opens gracefully for the group. A few people look up at them as they enter through the second set of doors. Cecil spots Nikomedes, holding Atreo by the arm, who rested atop a wobbly cane. Cecil jumps off the rover and pops off his helmet, walking their way.
“Damn it, I was about to walk out there on my own so I could strangle you with my own hands. We’re already losing out on man hours, and then we have to send a search party out-”
“What Cecil found was worth it.” Agrippa interrupts Atreo’s rant. He had walked up behind Cecil, pulling Qaseem’s necklace out of the interior of the suit. “This belonged to Qaseem Said, an astronaut from the first manned expedition here on Mars.”
“I know who that is.”
“The rest of the world doesn’t though.” Cecil interrupts.
“That’s because they don’t care.” Atreo gripes, continuing to look indignant.
“It’s about time we make them care. They should know what’s going on up here, the hardships we go through in order to give humanity a possibility at a future.” Agrippa speaks up. Several of the workers around the hangar had gathered to listen.
“We did what we needed to do with Qaseem back then, when the expedition returned without him. I gave Galen permission to have his body brought back to Earth now, shouldn’t that suffice? Personally, I think it’s worthless… he has no surviving family, I checked myself. If you want to make a fanfare out of it, I could care less.”
Atreo’s voice echoes through the hangar, being played over the loudspeakers. He glares upwards, looking for the source of the sound.
“Ruiz, Atreo, Agrippa, I want you in my office now.” Cassius’s stern voice plays over the speaker. Atreo jumps, losing his balance for a moment.
__
Cecil steps through the sliding door, Agrippa in tow. Atreo hobbles in after. Cecil spots Cyrus on the side, gleaming at him.
“The whole station knows what’s up with this little foray, thanks to this punk here.” Cassius grumbles, nodding at Cyrus. “Atreo, what are you attempting to pull with this plan?”
“I demand not to be spoken down to like this. As the mission control commander-”
“You’re forgetting that you’re in my station.” Cassius interrupts him.
“Cassius, this was all out of my hands. We simply came to deal with the outbreak. I had no idea…” Atreo stammers.
“I get it. Ruiz, tell me, what do you plan to do now?”
“I’m really not sure.” Cecil shakes his head, staring down the commander. “This is overwhelming. There is so much to do… regarding this place, me, and the people at home. I think first off, they need to know about Qaseem. When I was down there, I talked with one of his crewmembers from the mission… a man named Niilo. He was told by the agency back then to just forget about it, to not mention it.
I know how much work everyone puts in up here, and how little they get thanked for it. Even more so, there are so few of us who have families who are waiting at home for us, to say ‘thank you’ for everything we do. It’s unfair.”
“And what do you suppose we do?” Cassius looks on, head propped up on his elbow, looking bored.
“We show the people of Earth, sir, what happens here. What we do.” Cecil nods, looking around at
the others for some form of agreement.
“We can discuss the specifics later, I guess. For now, this place is still a mess. Talk to me when my men aren’t dying anymore. Get outta my office.” Cassius shoes them away.
Epilogue
Cecil feels her arms around him, her body heat, and her hair dangling in his face.
“I love you Cecil.” Maria says, pulling away hesitantly.
“I love you too. Maybe… some time when I’m in the right state of mind, we can make something of it. You mean the world to me, though.” Cecil sighs.
“The world? I’m not sure how to feel about that, coming from you.” The nurse giggles.
“You know what I mean.”
The cryonic sleep pods had been lined up against the walls, waiting to be sanitized for their passengers. Outside, a launching pod sits in the hangar, ready to be taken out and propped up on the pad outside. A few men wielding tablets circle it, doing final checks.
“I have to continue prepping…” She warns. “I’ll try to see you again before we get shipped off.”
“I’ll take that as a promise.” Cecil releases her hand and wanders out the door to the hangar. Along the back wall, Agrippa sits in one of the chairs that folded out of the wall. His eyes remain fixed on the ship as Cecil took a seat beside him.
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine here without me?” He asked, eyes still fixed ahead.
“Don’t have second thoughts just because of me.” Cecil retorts.
“No, no, never.” Agrippa jokes. “These past few months since you’ve returned… I feel as if you can handle yourself now. You just have to watch out for your subconscious trying to get the better of you again.”
“Now you’ll only have to worry about the people you’re stuck on the ship with. They won’t try to fight you as much, I hope.”
“Well, not if they’re frozen.” Agrippa chuckles. “I can’t imagine how well Atreo will take being awoken after Cryo sleep though… he’s already a cranky bugger.”
