The Ruins of Mars (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy Book 1)

by Dylan James Quarles

  “Spy games, is it?” glared the President, clearly unimpressed with Crain’s actions.

  “Oh, no, Sir. Nothing like that. I just need to keep an eye on what’s going on out there in the world.”

  Then smiling at his accidental joke, Crain repeated, “Just to keep an eye on things. That’s all.”

  Lifting his left hand, he displayed a compact Tablet, half the size of a regular model.

  “I can summon Donovan with this and give him orders as needed. When he’s finished doing what it is I’ve asked, he’ll let me know. Up here.”

  Crain tapped the glasses, then slid them back on.

  Tilting his head back, the President gave Crain a long look, then said, “Next time, I want you to be upfront with me, Ben. I understand that you were here before me and will be after I’m gone, but I’m in charge now and I want your respect. Understood?”

  Smiling, Crain dipped his chin.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good,” sighed the President. “Show us what you have then.”

  “Let’s see the list, Donovan,” ordered Crain.

  The wall screen behind him suddenly went blank, then was quickly replaced by a short list of thirteen names.

  Turning to the screen, Crain launched into his address. “The list you see now represents possible candidates for our crew in the field of archaeology. I’ve eliminated anyone whose country of citizenship is not friendly to the United States or which has large pockets of anti-American sentiments in its general population. You won’t find any Chinese on this list.”

  As he said this, Crain shot Eve a look.

  “Why is one of the names highlighted yellow?” interrupted the President.

  “That name represents a candidate who is not technically age-eligible yet. He’s fairly well known in certain circles though, and I guess Donovan thinks he’s a good choice.”

  “That name seems familiar to me,” puzzled Eve as she gazed at the screen.

  “It should,” sneered Crain. “You met his father a year ago in Cairo at a party in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities.”

  Looking shocked, Eve asked, “How do you know that?”

  “I told him, Mrs. Bear,” answered Donovan flatly.

  Frowning, Eve shifted in her seat uncomfortably and crossed her legs.

  “Alright, Ben,” interjected the President testily. “Just get on with it.”

  “Gladly,” said Crain. “Every name you see on this list belongs either to someone already prominent in the field of archaeology or quickly rising to prominence. Several of our candidates are published, and one is a professor at Cambridge. None of the people on this list have any experience in astronautics, but if our Italian biologist can get trained up in time, then I don’t see any problems there. Now, Dr. Floyd how do you want to handle this? After all, this is your mission.”

  Feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall upon him, James swallowed and stared at the screen. Reading down the list, he stopped at the name highlighted in yellow. It read, Harrison Raheem Assad.

  “I would like to meet them all face-to-face if I can,” he said. “Starting with the youngest one.”

  “You heard him, Donovan,” grinned Crain. “Round them up.”

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER TEN

  Three years later—January 2048

  The Earth was a blue dot half-shrouded in shadows and no bigger than a dime. As it swam in an ocean of stars, Harrison Raheem Assad held up a finger and covered his home world entirely. Removing it, he squinted and tried in vain to make out the shapes of continents. All he could see for sure was a deep shade of comforting blue. Holding his finger up again, he blocked out the Earth and sighed.

  “Again with this?” came a voice from behind him.

  Turning his head, Harrison saw the Ship’s Pilot, Amit Vayes, floating a little ways off.

  “Every morning until I can’t see her anymore, buddy.”

  Holding out a hand for Harrison to pull him closer, Amit grinned with small white teeth.

  “Honestly, my friend, I do the same thing.”

  Harrison took Amit by the wrist and pulled him through the air to the handrail that ran in front of the window. In actuality, the window was facing forwards and away from Earth, but Harrison had requested that Braun display the images from the rear-mounted cameras.

  “Can you see Mars yet?” asked Amit. “I mean really tell it apart from the rest?”

  “Braun?” called Harrison.

  Instantly, a calm and even voice responded from the air around them.

  “Yes, Harrison?”

  “Scrap the display please. Let’s sees what’s ahead of us.”

  The image of space with its lone dot of blue winked out, and a new arrangement of stars filled the window. Smiling slightly, Harrison moved his eyes across the heavens and searched for a different prick of light, one slightly bigger than the stars, with a reddish glow.

  “There!” pointed Amit. “There she is. Follow my finger.”

  Tracking down from the tip of Amit’s dark brown finger, Harrison saw the little world. So far and so small, yet growing by the day.

  “How much longer until we arrive?” he asked.

  Amit went to answer but was beat to the point by Braun.

  “Two months, one week, four days, ten hours, eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds.”

  “Yeah,” joked Amit. “That’s what I was going to say too.”

  Reluctantly turning from the window, Harrison shoved off and floated across the bridge deck towards the exit hatch. The room was large and tall, making it one of the only spaces where a person could really have fun with the effects of zero gravity. Swivel chairs were anchored to the floor on moving tracks around the perimeter, but, save for Amit’s pilot station in the center, the rest of the room was as open as a gymnasium.

  “Heading to the galley?” called Amit, his hazel eyes twinkling in the low light.

  “Yep,” shot Harrison as he swam through the air.

  “Put some eggs in the oven for me, will you? I hate taking my inhibitors on an empty stomach.”

  Approaching the pilot station, Harrison pushed off the back of Amit’s command chair as he passed, accelerating towards the open hatch and the crew-quarters hallway.

  “You got it, buddy!” he called. Then, “Say, did you happen to see if Liu is up yet?”

  Grinning devilishly, Amit wagged a finger at Harrison. “Wouldn’t you be the one to know? But yes, I saw her. She’s in the galley. Better hurry though. I think I saw Marshall dashing that way too!”

  Laughing, Harrison grasped the lip of the open passage and stopped himself.

  “You’re a crack-up, Amit. Don’t be surprised if your breakfast is still frozen in the center.”

  “Good,” said Amit wryly. “That’s how I like it anyway.”

  Chuckling to himself, Harrison moved gracefully into the crew-quarters hallway. Passing by the airlock hatches that led to the Landers, he noticed that one stood slightly ajar. Grasping the handlebar, he opened the hatch wider and stuck his head through.

  “Marshall, you down there?” he called.

  “No!” came the strong voice of Joseph Aguilar. “He’s taking a shower. You need something?”

  Smiling, Harrison shouted, “I’m making a breakfast run. You want anything, Joey?”

  Aguilar did not respond for a moment, but soon his head appeared at the lip of the ladder shaft that led from the airlock down into Lander 2.

  “Coffee!”

  “You got a mug already?” asked Harrison.

  Aguilar raised a hand and threw a pressurized drink container, resembling a typical to-go soda cup, into the air. Slowly, the mug drifted through the open space, turning end over end until Harrison reached out and snatched it.

  “Nice catch!” winked Aguilar. “Cream and sugar by the way.”

  Nodding, Harrison pushed off and made his way down the corridor towards the galley. As he neared the open hatch, he heard the rising chatter of voices pu
nctuated by the occasional rattle of laughter. Ducking through, he was greeted by the warmth and activity of the nearly full galley. Here and there, people talked and joked while pleasant light filtered down from a softly glowing ceiling. Curving for four-and-a-half meters, the wall on the far side of the room was made of transparent glass, encasing a gorgeous bamboo garden, which flourished under a row of soft yellow UV lights. Air was cycled through the enclosure so that the bamboo bent and swayed in the gentle breeze.

  The effect created by this subtle movement gave one the feeling that they were not so far from home after all, that there was life to be admired even in the deadly vacuum of space. The rest of the walls surrounding the kitchen were comprised of storage cabinets, refrigerators and a cluster of ovens. In the center of the room was a large, circular glass table anchored to the floor by a wide opaque pillar and surrounded by twelve chairs attached at the base. The floor of the kitchen had several pathways illuminated by glowing yellow strips. When crew members so desired, they could activate a bank of electromagnets in the soles of their jumpsuits, which would react positively with the magnets inlaid in the yellow strips. This feature gave the crew the ability to walk, or rather, shamble, about the kitchen as they carried their food and drinks. Not quite powerful enough to prevent them from pushing off and drifting away, the magnetic strips did make it possible for one to move gently with at least the simulated normalness of standing up.

  Looking up from her conversation at the table with the Frenchmen Julian Thomas, Ship’s Captain Tatyana Vadovski called out, “Good morning, Harrison!”

  Tapping a quick command onto the soft screen of his wrist-mounted Tablet, Harrison brought his feet down to the ground and felt the magnets begin to draw him in.

  “Good morning, Captain,” he replied warmly. Then, “Bonjour, Julian.”

  The Ship’s Engineer tilted his head slightly and murmured, “Bonjour.”

  Scanning the room, Harrison spotted Liu standing at the coffee station with the crew’s physician Elizabeth Kubba and the Italian biologist Viviana Calise. The three were talking quietly and holding mugs like the one Harrison carried in his hand. Moving awkwardly down one of the glowing strips, he opened the nearest refrigerator and checked the drawers until he found a small silver bag labeled EGGS. Again, lumbering like a man attempting to walk underwater, he shuffled over to an oven and popped the bag inside.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he waved to the three women.

  Elizabeth and Viviana looked up, smiled congenially, then resumed their conversation. Excusing herself from the others, Liu turned to face Harrison, a blush tinging her cheeks. Her short black hair was covered by a gray skull cap, which she wore low on her forehead in an attempt to keep the floating strands out of her face. At thirty, Liu was slight in figure, her youthful face concealing her years by remaining smooth and fair. She watched Harrison approach with bright and intelligent, almond-shaped brown eyes.

  Turning the corners of her small mouth upwards into a friendly smile, she asked, “How does the Earth look this morning?”

  Stepping from the strip he was on to the one leading towards the coffee station, Harrison wavered, then shrugged.

  “Not too much different from yesterday to be honest. Personally, I think Braun is magnifying the images slightly in some sort of attempt to keep me from feeling homesick.”

  Holding out a hand, Liu helped stabilize Harrison as he wobbled towards her.

  “These damn strips only work when you’re standing still,” he griped.

  “I bet you’re not a very good dancer, are you?” she laughed, her voice softly accented. “You have to go toe to heel, toe to heel. It takes a little balance as well.”

  Sticking his chin out defiantly, Harrison said, “When we get back to Earth, I’ll show you a thing or two about dancing.”

  Producing a nervous smile, Liu dipped her chin.

  Plugging the downspout from the coffee pot into a small port on the top of Aguilar’s cup, Harrison pressed the button for coffee with cream and sugar, then nervously drummed his fingers on the pot as the mug filled.

  “So,” he started slowly. “How did you sleep last night? You were gone before I woke up. Is everything alright?”

  Glancing quickly over her shoulder, Liu leaned close to Harrison’s ear and whispered, “Everything’s fine, but you snore like a machine gun.”

  James Floyd meets Harrison Raheem Assad—22nd of December, 2044

  James Floyd leaned back in his desk chair and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. Checking his watch, he noted that there were only a few more minutes until the next interview was scheduled to start. In the last three days, since his meeting with the President, James had been interviewing the candidates whose names Donovan had collected. His wish to start the interviews with the youngest candidate, one Harrison Raheem Assad, had been dashed when Donovan informed him that Assad was stranded in Amazonia City, Peru. At the request of Ben Crain, certain strings had been pulled, and a flight out of the country was arranged for Assad. In the meantime, James had started his interviews with some of the other candidates. So far he had not been impressed. He was looking for someone not only knowledgeable in the field of archaeology, but also mentally and physically capable of enduring a four-month-long trip inside the belly of Braun. A trip, which, when compared to the hardships of establishing the first-ever base on the surface of Mars, would seem like a vacation.

  Now, as he sat in his office in Houston, Texas, James sipped on his coffee and read hopefully over the credentials of his next interviewee, Harrison Raheem Assad.

  “Looks pretty good,” he mumbled into his drink.

  “Sir?” said Copernicus curiously.

  “This kid. I like what I see, Copernicus. Not only do his professors speak highly of him, but he’s done an incredible amount of traveling for someone so young.”

  Pausing, James sipped his coffee, then continued. “Not to mention, the day before the Mars news broke, he had just finished outlining the details of a pretty interesting discovery he made in Peru.”

  A projection of Harrison’s Nazca ruins, complete with bonsai, jumped into view above James’s desk.

  “Truly inspired,” beamed Copernicus. “When Donovan allowed me access to the candidate profiles, Mr. Assad was my first choice. From the information Donovan was able to gather, he seems more than capable of withstanding the trials of our future mission.”

  Checking his watch again, James leaned forwards in his chair and slipped his feet back inside the loafers under his desk.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Copernicus. I don’t want to make any snap judgments.”

  Sounding slightly dejected, the AI replied, “I understand.”

  Deciding that he had been too blunt, James pushed back in his seat and stood up.

  “Copernicus, I’m sorry. Your opinion on this matter is greatly appreciated. Why don’t you stick around for this interview, and we can conduct it together. Sound good?”

  There was a brief pause, then Copernicus spoke.

  “Thank you, James. I would enjoy the opportunity.”

  Smoothing his NASA blue tie, James simultaneously straightened the Christmas tree pin on his shirt pocket, a gift from his daughter. As he reached for his coffee to drain the last of the cup, he remembered something that had been bugging him for the last few days.

  “Any word from the twins yet?”

  “No,” replied Copernicus gravely.

  “Hmm,” James muttered. “They must be pretty broken up about Dr. Park. We’ll give it a little more time, then try to rouse them again.”

  Hesitating, Copernicus said, “Pardon me for saying so, but I do not think the death of Dr. Park is responsible for the lack of communication on the part of Remus and Romulus.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. When reviewing the readouts of AI brain activity in both brothers, I detected a rather large disturbance in their input waves. This disproportionately sharp spike of incoming information occurred at the exact same m
oment for both Remus and Romulus. Following the spike, as is the case now, was an almost flat line in AI brain activity.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, James asked, “Are they dead? What happened?”

  “I am unable to determine the cause of the spike, but I can say with confidence that they are not dead. They are in what would be referred to in human terms as a comatose state. It is puzzling, but I will continue to monitor the situation.”

  “Great,” grumbled James, dropping back into his chair. “Add that to the heap of shit I need to shovel.”

  Before Copernicus could respond, the watch on James’s left wrist began to chime softly. Quickly swiping a finger across the face plate, he silenced the little silver band.

  “Alright,” he exhaled. “Are you ready to meet our next man?”

  “Quite,” said Copernicus pleasantly.

  “Then send him in, my friend.”

  Less than a minute later, there was a soft knock at James’s door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door opened, and in walked an olive-skinned young man. Wearing a black sports jacket, slacks and a clean white shirt, Assad looked somehow older and more mature than his twenty-four years of age would suggest. His short black hair was cut clean and combed back, and his green eyes gazed out from underneath thick eyebrows. Smiling, he walked across the room with his hand outstretched.

  “Dr. Floyd, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

  James rose from his chair to accept the boy’s handshake.

  “Please,” he gestured. “Take a seat.”

  Pulling up an empty chair, Assad sat across the desk from James, smiling with bright white teeth.

  “So,” started James. “I trust your flight from Amazonia was comfortable?”

  Nodding, Assad grinned, “I can’t thank you guys enough for arranging that. I had already slept on the floor for a night because security wasn’t letting anyone leave the damn airport.”