Author’s note: I’ve been working on this science fiction story off and on for a while. Now it’s done-ish. It’s too long to be a short story and too short for a novel, so it may as well go here. I toyed with releasing as a serial, but since I haven’t posted fiction before and it’s not generally a hit on Substack overall, I figured I’d just post the whole thing. I hope you enjoy it!
First Chapter
Winston stood facing the sun, eyes closed, basking in its warmth. The sound of his wife talking to their daughter drifted over on the breeze. The grass rustled. His daughter giggled. Winston felt her embrace his legs. He looked down and tousled her head of dark hair.
“Ready for lunch?”
She looked up. Blank skin stretched across her skull where a face should have been. The skin twisted over moving jaws below as she tried to answer. No sound came out. Winston recoiled, tripping backward over a rock.
He awoke with a start before he hit the ground. He was in his bed in the bachelors’ dormitory in First Ward, Armstrong City, Mars. The room was cold and dark, lit only by the security lights on the floor and a digital clock over the door. It was only 0400 hours.
He lay awake, thinking about his departure from Earth nearly 30 years ago. His wife Martha, pregnant with their daughter, had begged him not to go. His bosses had insisted, however. They desperately needed a pilot for this run and made it clear that a refusal would be a career-limiting move.
“I won’t be gone that long,” he promised. “Besides, the big shots say I need to do this. What can you do? Hey, hey, don’t cry. Look at the upside. The trip bonus will be a great start on the college fund.”
Martha had been stoic on launch day. She’d managed not to cry until Winston had boarded the shuttle to the launch pad. The shuttle mirror had given him just a glimpse of the tears shining on her face before the gates closed.
When he’d come out of stasis near Mars, he’d rushed to the flight deck to see if Martha was okay and if the baby had arrived safely. Instead, the computer flashed with warning lights. The log showed communication with Ground Control had fallen off halfway through the flight. He could still contact Mars. They had also lost contact with Earth.
It had been planned as a fly-by cargo drop, but protocol for this event was to land the rocket and wait until comms could be re-established. So he did. He landed - with some damage, no one was used to landing procedures - and waited. And waited. And waited…
Winston decided he probably wasn’t getting back to sleep. He crept out of the dorm and into the showers. He got dressed and got a cup of coffee. Since it was too early for work still, he took the Belt over to the cargo bay.
There, mostly covered in a thin film of red dust sat Mars Orbital Transit Vehicle MOTV-273 or, more colloquially, the Betsy Ross. The rocket had been repaired over the years. Slowly. With Earth incommunicado, operational manuals deprioritized repair for space vehicles. There was almost always something higher on the priority queue for the Martian city’s fabrication units to be working on - cryo compressors, air filters, waste processing pumps, seals, dental implants, etc - the list went on and on.
Every now and then, however, Winston’s fab orders had gone through and he got his parts. He installed and tested them over nights and holidays. Now, finally, the Betsy Ross was ready to go again. The timing was wonderful; the launch window was just opening. He just needed to convince the City Council to approve the trip. Then he could go home. Could he still get a steak? Was Martha still there? His daughter? Anyone?
His daydreaming was interrupted by the screech of a large bay door. A worker drove a forklift in with the day’s first batch of fab outputs.
Winston realized he needed get to work too. He would have to hurry now if he didn’t want to be late. He opened the portal to the hall and stepped out without looking. He collided with another man, knocking him over.
“Hey, fuck you, old man!”
Winston saw the red jumpsuit and realized with dread that he’d just run into one of the Sons of Mars. He tried to stammer out an apology and held out his hand to help. The younger man ignored the offer and kicked Winston’s feet out from under him. Winston hit the floor without breaking the fall, knocking the wind out of him.
By the time Winston rolled over and picked himself up, the Son was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I wish the Watch would do something about those creeps,” he muttered to himself, “but I guess that could have been worse.” He dusted off and headed for the Belts.
He was only five minutes late when he got to Engineering, but his boss, the First Ward Engineering Chief was already there. “Playing with rocketships again, Deputy?” she sneered. For the second time that morning, Winston tried to mumble out an apology. It was ignored for the second time that morning. The Chief continued, “The quarterly safety test of the ward external mobility suits is late. I had Taylor pull all the Zone 1 suits yesterday. Get them tested. Today.”
The Chief stared, waiting for acknowledgement. Winston nodded. The Chief nodded back, satisfied, and turned for her office. Winston walked down the lab table to his spot. His assistant, Taylor, was already there working.
“Morning, how’s your husband?” Winston asked.
“Good morning!” she replied. “He’s doing better. Still waiting on some anti-virals, but sounds like the medfabs are really backed up this year.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that. What can you do? Hope he hangs in there.”
“Me too… Hey what happened to your head?”
Winston touched a sore spot on his head. A bit of drying blood stuck to his fingers.
“Oh, this? I just had a little scrape with one of the Sons of Mars this morning. I’m fine,” he replied.
Taylor grimaced. “It seems like their little cult is doing some recruiting lately. I see more of them all the time. You know what kind of crazy stuff they believe?”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get me started.”
“Like, they don’t even believe people came from Earth!”
“I know! I said, don’t get me started.”
“Sorry,” Taylor said, “I know Earth is touchy for you. How about some work? I heard Chief tell you to check the ExM suits, but we really need to talk about these grow lights. Every hydroponics unit except Ward Four is showing lower outputs almost weekly.”
“Okay, but you already pulled the Atrium Zone ExM suits, so let’s get those tested and put back away. Pass me a flashlight for the visor seal checks?”
Taylor agreed and they both turned to work quietly. The morning ticked by with oxygen flow testing, pressurization, and seal replacement. Winston had just started thinking about what to have for lunch when Councillor Diego Gonzalez came into the lab. He was the First Ward representative to the City Council. He didn’t seem to keep a very close eye on how the Ward was functioning, but he still knew department leadership, especially for key departments like Engineering.
“Hey Winston, got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure, but… aren’t you looking for Chief? She was here a few minutes ago. I’m sure you won’t have to wait long.”
“No, I want to talk to you,” he said, motioning to the hallway. They stepped out, away from the other engineers.
"Listen,” Diego said sheepishly, “is that rocket of yours still almost ready to go?”
Winston rolled his eyes. Diego continued, “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been real supportive of that project in the past.”
Winston glared.
“Okay, okay. I know. I haven’t supported it at all. But I was wrong. It might be just what we need. Can you come by an emergency Council meeting tonight? We have a big problem.”
Second Chapter
Diego wouldn’t tell Winston anything else about the “big problem” or how a rocket might help. It was all very hush hush. Diego was adamant that Winston swear to secrecy. As soon as Winston had promised to keep the secret and promised to come to the meeting, Diego scurried down the hallway looking over his shoulder.
Greatly distracted, Winston headed down the hall for an early lunch, furiously trying to figure out what the problem could be and whether this might mean he could finally head for home. He walked past his regular Ward-run cafeteria and headed down a level to a private noodle shop that shared their revenue with the Ward.
He wasn’t sure what the space had been when the Ward was built, but it wasn’t a restaurant. Maybe a big closet or a Watch station. Now, some cooking equipment, a bar, and a few stools filled the little metal cube. Winston took the stool at the end of the bar and ordered the mushroom noodles.
He sat thinking and dreaming. He was lost in thought when his order was placed in front of him. He didn’t snap to until the little TV over the bar mentioned Earth. The show was a Council-sponsored talk show and a bubbly anchor was interviewing Son Adam, the leader of the Sons of Mars. He seemed angry.
“…now they’re talking about going to Earth! Why? They canceled the Rock Ward expansion like they want to keep us crammed in these little cans. Regular people are hungry and sick here on Mars. Fix that. If the Council can’t fix Martian problems, it’s time to try something new.”
The anchor laughed nervously. “You don’t think there’s any value in re-establishing contact with Earth? Wouldn’t one cargo shipment be enough…””
Son Adam interrupted, “Enough what? There’s nothing on Earth to make contact with. This is a fiction the Council is using to buy time.”
“Well, the truth is we used to get these shipments from Earth…”
“No. YOUR truth is that we used to get things from Earth. OUR truth is that we’ve never seen or heard anything from Earth. What has Earth ever done for us?”
The restaurant owner flipped the TV off and tapped on the counter in front of Winston. “Hey bud, I gotta close for a few hours before the dinner rush. You want those noodles to go?”
Winston looked at the noodles, now totally cold and puffy with soaked-up soup. He shook his head. As he stepped away from the bar, he realized he’d neglected work as totally as he’d neglected his lunch. The ExM suits were still in the lab and Chief would be furious. They were going to totally miss the availability metric this period. He sighed and muttered to himself, “what can you do?”
He only had a few hours before the Council meeting and that seemed like it would be more important anyway. Was Diego’s question related to Son Adam’s rant? Surely it must have been. But Winston had asked for permission for a return flight before and nobody found it interesting enough to put on TV. Coincidence then, maybe. He took the Belt back to the dorm. He flopped down on the couch in the Engineers’ lounge and tried unsuccessfully to take a nap before the Council meeting.
That evening, Winston went up to the Atrium. It was by far the biggest open space in the City; big even for an old Earthling like Winston. It had been built into a canyon that emptied out over the cliff face the City had been carved into. It was covered by a massive glass dome and lined with trees.
Top job tiers like Councillors and department Chiefs - especially for First Ward where the atrium was located - had dormitories and offices with cliff face windows. For most City residents, however, the Atrium was the only place residents could go to see the outside world. Unless they worked in the hydroponics labs, it was also probably the only place they could see greenery.
Today, a group of protestors mingled amongst the trees, occasionally repeating chants led by a bullhorn somewhere. Winston had seen fairs and parties in the atrium, but protests were new. He shuddered; the protestors reminded him of the years at home before he left. He went wide across the atrium, giving them plenty of space. He couldn’t make out what they were angry about.
The City Council met in a large room at the end of the Atrium. Elevated over the Atrium floor, it looked out over the edge of the cliff onto a wide, red vista. Winston had been in the room for Council meetings before, but this time felt different. His palms were sweaty and scenarios ran through his mind in short succession.
Luckily for Winston, he didn’t have to wait long. The Council Chair - another former Earthling named Anna Kwon - opened the meeting and got right down to business.
“I’ve called an emergency session to discuss a matter of urgent City security. Roughly half a year ago, we began to experience problems with Third Ward grow lights, reducing food output from that ward. The problem was odd. Light output seemed to fall linearly, with food production following closely. Failures happened well before lamps reach expected end-of-life. Before we could solve the problem, it spread to other wards. We kept up at first by replacing problematic lamps, but the fabs are now overwhelmed and we are starting to experience dangerously low levels of stockpiles for other key parts.
“At this point, food production is falling slowly, but surely, across the City. If we don’t change trend, we will exhaust food inventories in only 1 to 2 years.
“We have previously heard from First Ward Deputy Chief Engineer Winston Tucker, who has joined us tonight - thank you Winston - about the possibility of returning to Earth. This Council has previously rejected these proposals. We have not heard from Earth in 28 and a half years and the trip would risk the loss of our only interstellar craft.
“If we do make contact, we risk losing the independence from Earth that we have enjoyed thusfar. If we don’t make contact… If we don’t secure additional lamps, parts, and food stocks, we risk starving to death.
“The launch window has just opened, if we do not act within this window, a return flight will not be possible for another two years.
“I have called this meeting to recommend and request the Council’s immediate approval for a mission to Earth. “
The Council sat, stunned. There were raised eyebrows, skeptical frowns, and furtive eye contact all around the table.
Finally, Fourth Ward Councillor Maria Jackson broke the silence, “That’s absurd. What makes you think there’s anything left on Earth go back to?”
Winston started to argue, but Diego cut in to save him from a mis-step. “Winston… what do you need in order to launch anyway?”
Winston stood up. “Well, Councillor, the Betsy Ross onboard computer rates all systems at 100% - including those repaired since landing. The engine nuclear core is only 23% depleted, so we have plenty of fuel. We need to onboard oxygen and intravenous nutrition pellets for two people: a pilot - uh, for me, I’ll be the pilot - and a co-pilot. And then the last thing we need are launch codes. We can be ready to launch 24 hours after we initiate pre-flight systems checks.”
His knees shook and he felt his face heat up. He hated speaking in big groups. He could barely believe he’d managed to rattle all that off.
Diego chimed in, “I’ll have the First Ward cargo team load the supplies tonight and start the AI on pre-flight checks. Where do we get launch codes?”
Winston’s eyes widened. As an old-time pilot, none - not one - of the hundreds of scenarios he’d imagined ever considered that the Council wouldn’t even know how to authorize a return trip. He started talking anyway, “Well, uh, the computer, um, the management program… um, there should be…”
Maria gave him a hand, “We stopped using COMMAND several years ago. After Tom died, nobody knew how it worked.”
That seemed unwise to Winston, but he had bigger issues for the moment. “Okay, uh, there should be a backup manual that includes authorization procedures in the Archives in Deep Ward.”
Diego leaned back in his chair. Anna rubbed her forehead. Other Councillors raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances. Winston immediately wondered what he had said wrong. He’d planned so many speeches, run through so many mental scenarios, done so much work on that stupid rocket. Why hadn’t he thought of this scenario? Had he just blown his trip home?
“Listen,” said Diego, “going anywhere in Deep Ward tonight is going to be, uh, challenging.”
Third Chapter
City Council Chair Anna Kwon nodded to the Council Sergeant-at-Arms. He stepped out into the hallway and returned with two Watch guards who were covered in sweat, grime, and… was that blood?
They briefed Winston and the Council on the state of Deep Ward. Somehow, despite its nominally secret status, news of the Council’s pending decision had reached the Sons of Mars. Son Adam had finagled the interview Winston saw and protests sprang up in nearly every ward. A watch party for Son Adam’s interview had been organized amongst the Sons. Once together, the Sons had started a riot and taken control of several Deep Ward facilities. The doors to those facilities had been barricaded and severed from the City communications network. Groups of Sons outside of the captured facilities were vandalizing the Ward and starting fights with Watch teams. The Watch officers reporting to the Council had heard rumors of deaths, but hadn’t been able to verify the reports.
As they finished their report, Diego turned to Winston, “So, it’s not just going to be clerical job to go get those codes.”
“Have they taken over the floor where the Archives are?” Winston asked.
“When we left, no, but the situation is very fluid,” one of the Watch officers said.
“Can you send a team down there, then?” Winston said.
“No. For several reasons,” the Watch officer replied. “One, the Sons are targeting Watch teams. Sending us instead of a civilian is likely to draw more attention than we want. Two, several Watch teams seem to have been compromised by Sons members in their ranks, so we aren’t even sure who we have, a concern amplified by the original leak. Three, and most importantly, we have had to respond to fires in several areas. We need the resources to keep City residents alive first and foremost.”
Fire in the City was an extremely serious matter. The rapid consumption of oxygen and claustrophobic nature of the City’s infrastructure meant that any fire could quickly become a mass casualty event. Every compartment and facility in the City was equipped with aggressive fire suppression systems, but responding and ensuring full extinguishment was essentially the top priority in the City operations manual.
In the worst case scenario, an alarm could be triggered that would rapidly vent all air from a specific zone out to the Martian atmosphere, removing oxygen and suppressing the fire. In such a scenario, VIPs working or residing in each zone would have roughly 30 seconds to get to an assigned exterior mobility suit locker and don the suit to get access to its oxygen tank and temperature controls. Everyone else in the zone would simply be casualties of the fire. It was an extreme measure, but was designed to save the other zones. In the dense confines of a city with a hostile exterior environment, it was deemed necessary.
Every City resident had been drilled on these procedures since youth, including the Sons, and City penal code held setting a fire as tantamount to murder. That the Sons of Mars had begun setting fires was basically an open declaration of war. They were throwing the gauntlet down at the Watch. Winston was astonished. Surely this little gang from a dirty, second-rate Ward didn’t think they could take on the professionals of the Watch, did they?
“Okay…” Winston was thinking out loud, “can we just lock down the Ward until they concede? The hydro lab in that Ward is tiny. They’ll be out of food in no time.”
Councillor Anthony Abruzzo, the Councillor for Deep Ward, shook his head. “The Sons are out of control, but they’re still my residents. I can’t leave them to starve…”
“I wasn’t suggesting they’d die!” Winston interjected.
“Yeah, alright, alright” Anthony said, raising his hands “but we still have the majority of the CNC fabs and half the City’s bio-waste processing. Who do you think is giving in first?”
He had a point. The Council sat awkwardly. One of the Watch officers received a message on his commlink and stepped back out into the hall.
He stepped back in and cleared his throat, “Uh, quick tactical update, if it matters. We’ve got most of the halls under control. We just need to deal with the groups holed up in gymnasium D13 and cafeteria 751. The plan is to reset the power grid tomorrow morning and storm those units if we can’t negotiate a settlement before then.”
“What does resetting the power do?” Diego asked.
“In the event of a power interruption, all doors in the City are designed to unlock to give residents the best chance at survival. Resetting the power grid will result in a period of roughly 15 minutes in which Watch teams can enter and clear the compromised facilities,” the guard replied.
“Ah, okay,” Diego said, “sounds like we have a bit of an opportunity between now and then. We just need someone to go.”
“Who?” Anna asked.
Everyone turned and looked at Winston.
Fourth Chapter
Winston did not want to be the person to go to the Deep Ward Archives unit, but when nobody else on the Council objected, Winston couldn’t bring himself to object either. “What can you do?” he mumbled to himself as the Council passed a verbal motion to send him for the codes. Besides, if this was what it took to go home and meet his daughter, to learn her name, to learn if he had grandkids too… well, okay. Time to bite the bullet and take a real risk.
The Council planned another emergency meeting the next evening. Once Winston had the codes, they could formalize whatever needed to be formalized based on the old manual. From there, they could get the Betsy Ross launched before the Sons of Mars could put up any more serious resistance. Diego would go ahead with loading and every Councillor would return with a nomination for co-pilot.
Somehow, Winston felt an even higher level of anxiety after leaving the meeting than he had felt going in, but he also felt a hope and an energy he hadn’t felt in years - Earth years or Mars years. Was it happy? Was that what he felt? Was it excited? Whatever the name for it, he liked it. It was almost enough to offset the anxiety he felt as he hopped on the Belt and started for Deep Ward.
Deep Ward was the deepest section of Armstrong City, furthest away vertically and horizontally from the cliff face and First Ward. It sat over a rich vein of rare earths and had been the focal point of activity for mining and processing materials to send back to Earth. When contact with Earth had been lost, most of the Ward - with the exception of the in-demand Engineer job tiers - had been put on standby. There wasn’t much to do with unrefined scandium on an isolated interstellar outpost - even one as big as the City.
Winston had been to Deep Ward plenty of times in the past, but - even before it was on fire - he didn’t like going. The residents of the Ward had continued to receive whatever stipends their qualifications entitled them to. They made just as much money as they had before the standby orders, but a malaise had settled over the Ward nonetheless. It became a hot spot for gambling, prostitution, plug ins, and drug dens.
The trip down took several hours, through a maze of Belt connections, elevators, and even a few sets of stairs long enough to make Winston’s left knee hurt.
He arrived to find lights flickering in the hall. As he went further, he saw and smelled smoke hanging in the air. Fire alarms wailed persistently in the background. The halls were nearly deserted, although occasional yelling echoed through over the alarms.
At an intersection halfway between the Ward border and the Archives Winston saw a group down the hall. Most of the lights were out, but the group was backlit by an open door at the end of the hall. In the silhouettes, Winston could make out the shapes of helmets and spears. He hurried across the intersection and pressed an elevator call button.
The group was coming closer. If they were a Watch team, Winston was sure he would be arrested. None of them would believe he was on a secret mission from the Council to launch a rocket to a quiet rock more than 100 million miles away. He’d be sent straight to the psych unit in Fourth Ward until the bureaucrats could work out the release paperwork. If they were Sons of Mars, well, who knows what would happen.
The elevator arrived. Winston stepped on and the doors closed just as the group arrived at the corner. It opened again on level 68, which - aside from standard Deep Ward grime - seemed relatively normal.
Winston got to the Archives with no trouble and went inside. The little antechamber where the Archivist normally sat was empty. That wasn’t surprising, given the hour and the situation outside. Winston’s Deputy Chief keycard let him back into the stacks anyway.
As the door opened, Winston took a deep breath in. There was something homey about the smell of paper. It wasn’t quite arboreal, but… it was Earthy. It was organic, decaying, once-living material. Now it was pressed and sliced and sorted neatly into little, seven-foot tall, Martian filing cabinets, but something familiar remained.
Winston found the Launch manual without a problem. He’d been to Archives before and had a decent idea how everything was filed. He flipped through it until he found the section for manual launch code overrides.
It felt like a gut punch. It was so simple. The manual override process didn’t involve the Council at all. There was no biometric authentication, no encryption, no two-key systems. Just a 20-character number to punch in to the MOTV console:
68378693010011003958
If only he’d thought to just… look! How could he have let this slip by? Oh well, he would have still needed parts. More importantly, it didn’t matter now. Winston took a deep breath and put the manual in his jacket pocket. He turned and headed for the door.
He opened the door to the Archivist’s antechamber and stopped. There were two Sons of Mars standing in the little office. A third hovered behind them in the yellow light of the hallway.
“You Winston?” the big one asked.
Fifth Chapter
It seemed that the Sons of Mars had taken over the Deep Ward brig. They took the cuffs off Winston’s hands and pushed him into a cell.
The banging door awoke his cellmate, who sat up and glared at Winston. Winston assumed the young man was from Deep Ward both because he was in a Deep Ward brig and because of the five-pointed stars he had tattooed under each eye.
“Why you in my cell, old man?” the prisoner asked.
“Uh, not sure,” Winston replied. “What about you?”
“Yo, you can’t just ask a man why he’s in the brig! You tryin’ to get fucked up tonight?”
Winston tried to keep a poker face. It must not have worked, because the young man broke into laughter.
“Chill out, chill out. I’m just messing with you. I’m Zell. I’m locked up for - in order - loitering, disrupting the peace, gambling, smuggling, bootlegging, signal interference, hacking, theft, and assault.” He seemed to take some pride in the list. “For real, though, tell me why you’re here. I don’t believe you have NO idea.”
Winston breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Problems with Sons of Mars, I guess…”
“Those religious nutjobs who were down here tonight?”
“Religious? Their whole thing is NOT believing in stuff.”
Zell pursed his lips. “Whatever. Some people’s idea of religion is believing in stuff. Their idea of religion is NOT believing in stuff. Harshes my vibe, either way. I just want to have a good time. Anyway… go on.”
Winston continued, “I was trying to leave Mars and get back to Earth. The Sons of Mars don’t want me to go. If I’d made it to Earth and back, I’d have ruined their little game.”
Zell’s eyebrows went up. “Back to Earth? Like you’re from Earth?”
“Yeah, a long time ago,” Winston said.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Earth. I heard girls there had great, big ‘ol titties.”
Winston laughed. “You young bucks are all the same - on any planet. But yes, some girls on Earth get, or at least got, more to eat than most Martians do. Not that it matters… It seems I’m not getting back anyway. I came to Deep Ward to get a book of launch codes. The Sons took it from me when they arrested me. They’ve probably destroyed it by now.”
“You know,” Zell said, “there might be another one…”
“What? Where?” Winston asked.
“Ah, ah, you gotta promise to take me with you.”
Winston thought about it for a second, but decided he didn’t have anything to lose. “Okay. You can come with me if I can get the code book. But I don’t want to sugarcoat it, we haven’t heard from Earth in 30 years - there might not be anyone alive down there. If we can’t raise a ground station to guide us in, we might get shot down or splash down into the ocean without a pickup. Do you want to risk starving to death surrounded by nothing but sun and water?”
Zell was sure. “Surrounded by sun and water sounds like a pretty good way to go. I can die seeing a whole new world or I can die locked up in Deep Ward like my dad and at least one of my granddads. If you know any magic tricks to get us out of this cell, I’m going with you. The backup codes are probably in a place called Site Zulu. The mob made smuggling runs out there when I worked for them.”
“Site Zulu? I’ve never heard of it,” Winston said skeptically. He’d seen and studied maps of every Ward and most of their key systems, but he’d never seen a reference to Site Zulu.
“Yeah,” Zell continued, “Site Zulu. It was named after an old alphabet or something. It’s supposed to mean last resort. It’s basically a backup for the City. It has food, oxygen, machinery, medicine, even old laser guns from back before projectile weapons were all removed. The Council uses it as their own little bunker. Remember that Rock Ward expansion that got canceled? That’s because it would have hit the tunnel out to Zulu. Anyway, it’s got a big Archives room that probably has what you need. Just… gotta get to it. Too bad we’re still stuck in the brig.” Zell hung his head.
“Well,” Winston said, “not necessarily…”
Winston explained the plan to reset the power to allow the Watch to breach the cafeteria and the gymnasium. The Deep Ward engineering team would reset the power connection from the reactor to the primary Ward systems. Every door in Deep Ward, including the brig, would be unlocked for 15 minutes.
Zell was enthusiastic. “When is this happening, man? Let’s get this party started!”
“Whoa, whoa,” Winston said, “What about those goons?”
He motioned down the hall. Through the door grate, they could hear the new wardens - the Sons of Mars - swearing, playing cards, and scrambling voice messages to send over the City network.
Zell thought for a second. “Ha, it’s gonna be dark, right? These guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”
“What? I’m too old to fight these guys, dark or not!” Winston exclaimed. “Plus, the dark is going to be just as big a problem for us as it is for them. Maybe more if they have…”
“Have what?” Zell asked.
Winston had trailed off and was busily searching through the various pockets on his jumpsuit. The Sons had taken the manual away from him when they arrested him, but they hadn’t bothered to pat him down. Did he still have the flashlight he’d used that morning? Chest pockets - no. Arm pocket - no. Hip pockets - no. Thigh pocket - ah ha!
With a sly smile and a glance at the door, he pulled the flashlight out just enough for Zell to see what it was. Zell’s eyes widened and the same sly smile spread across his face too.
“We ready then?”
Winston was hesitant. “Why don’t you take the light and go to Site Zulu? I’m sure the Council will have a search party out for me and I’ll wait here for them. That’s standard operation procedure for a stranded pilot.“
“Thandard oppretting prasseedur.” Zell mocked. “You goofy Engineers and your procedures and rules. Ain’t nobody in Deep Ward ever had pilot training, including the Watch guys. Nah, they’re gonna be cracking Son heads.”
“Yeah, fine, let them do it. Like I said, I’m too old for boxing in the dark.”
Zell groaned. “You’re not very smart for an engineer. THINK about it. How many of the other crooks in here do you think want to be in here?”
“Ahhhhh.”
“Ah what? How long has it been since you were on Earth? You finally have the chance to go back and you’re going to sit in the dark and WAIT? Gimme that flashlight. I’m at least getting out of the brig for a minute.”
Winston was still stammering out some kind of excuse when the lights went out and Zell grabbed the flashlight.
Sixth Chapter
The entire brig was alive with confusion. There were shouts about the lights, banging on the bars, and then a creaking door. “Doors are open!” The announcement cascaded down the hall. “Doors are open!” “Doors are open!”
Winston heard a creak near him. His cell door. That little rat fink Zell was leaving him! And taking his flashlight.
A fight broke out down the hall. Winston felt panic rising in his chest.
Someone grabbed his shoulder. He started and fell backward. Again. There was a flash of light and someone grabbed his wrist. “Come on!” Zell hissed.
Zell led Winston down the pitch-black hall. Clanging bars and yells surrounded them. Winston stepped on something soft lying on the floor.
“Just use the light!”
“And be the only thing visible? I’ve been down this hall a thousand times.”
They turned a corner. Down the hall, flashlights swept the walls and ceilings, silhouetting raised truncheons. Whether it was the Watch or Sons, someone was trying to get control of the situation.
“Shit,” Zell muttered, “that’s the way out. Gotta go the back way.”
They turned to go back. They ran into someone in the dark. They pushed off each other.
It was dark: A swear and the swish of a club punctuated the air.
Light on: Squinting confusion.
Light off: The sound of an impact. Zell pulling.
Light on: A quick turn down a hall.
Light off: “I’m gonna kill you mother fuckers!” Clattering. A near miss by Winston’s ear.
Light on: Zell jumping over a body. “I see you!”
Light off: Winston tripping. Is being pulled. Pulled into metal.
Light on: A door. A kitchen.
Light off: A club lands. Winston yelling. A hand grabbing.
Light on: A snarl. The sillhouette of a cleaver. “Take it! Take it!” Hacking, blood, screams. The hand slips. Faces coming through the door.
Light off: Zell pulling. Around a corner. Down stairs in the dark. Yelling. “Duck.” Not in time. Crawling. A door slammed.
Winston could hear their pursuers knocking over kitchen equipment. The noises were muffled.
“Where are they?”
“Let’s go, before the doors lock!”
“No, FUCK them!”
“Well, I’m leaving!”
“Alright, alright.”
Zell flicked on the light, steadily this time. Winston spit: blood. His sleeves were covered in blood. Hands too. They were shaking. He wondered if his shoulder was broken.
“Shit. Did I kill him?”
“You? Ha, I doubt it.”
“Who was that?”
“Not sure, doesn’t matter. Hold this light still for me.”
Zell handed Winston the light. They were in a crawlspace under a stairwell. Plumbing and electrical cables covered the wall.
“Over here.”
Winston pointed the light at small grey fuse box door. Zell opened it. He took out the fuse panel, which appeared to be a decoy. Cold air blew in from a dark opening.
“Sir,” Zell motioned with feigned formality.
“What is it?”
“You’ve never heard of smuggling?” Zell laughed.
Winston maneuvered himself through the tiny opening, his shoulder screaming as he went. He found himself in an access shaft, on a small metal scaffold adjacent to the large ducts used to recirculate or evacuate air from the ward. He pointed the light up and the ducts disappeared into the darkness above him. Down looked the same.
Zell replaced the decoy fuse panel. As he did, there was a shift in the air pressure and the cavity boomed. The power was back on.
Zell sighed. “Whew, good timing. We’ve missed triggering the alarm on the closet door. Not sure if anyone cares now, but it’s one less thing to worry about. Now to get to the Zulu tunnel.”
“How? You’re dressed like a convict and I’m covered in blood.”
“Don’t worry, this connects directly to the Site Zulu access tunnel. It’s just… a bit of hike without an elevator.”
They set off up into the gloom. Winston’s knee hurt soon enough, but he kept going. One metal-grated stair at a time.
“So, you really fought your way out of prison just to do some sight-seeing with me?” Winston asked.
“Not exactly. I don’t have a whole lot of time left on Mars. I know too much.”
“Like what? Like the Council members skimming off rev-share funds?”
“Ha. Everyone knows about that. I mean, do you know why the hydroponics are failing?”
“Because the Councillors are too busy trying to get their kids cushy billets to learn how the station works?”
They reached a scaffolded platform. It split off into 4 dark tunnels. Zell checked for a mark on a wall and went down a tunnel.
“Worse than that. They are sabotaging it.”
“What? Why? Don’t they know that’s how they eat too?”
“Said who? That’s what Site Zulu is for.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do that?”
“I dunno, man. I’m not some kinda genius engineer pilot like you. Figure it out. Let me know. Anyway, here we are.”
There was a simple door at the end of the scaffold, mounted directly in red rock face. They stepped through into an airlock prep chamber lined with External Mobility suits. Zell started putting one on and Winston followed his lead.
Winston noticed a few empty suit stations.
“Hey Zell, are these normally all full?”
“Yeah, that’s odd. I guess someone’s already out there. Let’s be careful.”
Seventh Chapter
The tram arrived at an unadorned concrete platform lit by a single bulb. The rails split to run on either side. Across the platform was the other tram. Zell and Winston knew for sure now that they were not alone. They went up the stairs to the airlock silently.
The airlock was crude. The doors opened and closed manually with big wheeled cranks to set the seals. There was a single switch set for the air pump with a light panel showing the lock status. There were no alarms or pre-recorded instructions. They passed through quietly.
Inside, they did not bother to remove their ExM suits. It would have been noisy. They simply flipped up the visors.
“Where is the archive?” Winston whispered.
“Next to the cargo bay.”
“How the hell did they build a cargo bay in secret? Why?”
“Shhh.”
Zell crept down the halls, nervously peeking around corners. Winston followed in mute amazement. There were living quarters, a mess, an elevator to other floors, which must contain engineering and hydroponics bays. It must have taken 10,000 people to build this. How did they all keep their mouths shut? Where did the material come from?
They passed through a storage bay stocked with freeze-dried food and medicinal containers. Winston thought of Taylor and her husband.
They found the cargo bay door and opened it. The motion activated lights were already on. The bay yawned into the distance. It was full of neatly stacked standard hold containers, 3 or 4 high. The markings weren’t from Armstrong City. The site must have been colonial. That answered the material question. But why?
As they crept through the stacks, they could overhear a conversation. They stopped to listen.
“We let the Watch have the gym back. Idiots. The Sons will be ready for the meeting tonight.”
“Fine. Have you found our friend yet?”
“Stop worrying about him, Ma. It’s annoying, but he can’t leave without this.”
“Don’t get cocky. The door trick you missed almost cost us Deep Ward. If he gets back to Earth…”
“If, if, if. Aren’t you Ms. ‘I Won’t live Forever’ anyway?
“Doesn’t mean I want…”
Zell sneezed.
The conversation stopped, followed by rapid movement. Zell and Winston quickly found themselves looking down the barrels of laser rifles held by Sons of Mars.
“Got two on the West side!”
“Sweeping East.”
“North side clear.”
“South side clear.”
The captives were taken to a clear spot near the middle of the bay. There stood Son Adam and Fourth Ward Councillor Maria Jackson.
“Glad you could join us,” Maria said with mock hospitality. “You know we’re not letting you leave.”
Son Adam held up the COMMAND manual with a smirk.
“Why?” Winston cried. “What is going on? Why not let me go? Why sabotage the hydroponics? Do you know how many people that could kill?”
Maria laughed. “We don’t know what’s going on with the hydroponics either. Maybe the book you found will help solve the puzzle. In the mean time, it doesn’t hurt that my Ward still has food production. We were going to clean up the Council anyway, but that will give us some leverage.
“As for your rocket project, I can’t let you get back to Earth. You‘re an old Earthling. You remember how they treat mutineers down there.”
Winston’s head spun. “Wait, so you do believe I’m telling the truth about Earth?” he asked, looking at Son Adam.
Son Adam shrugged. “Truth is relative.”
“It’s not!” Winston protested.
“It is irrelevant, though.” Adam said. “Tonight, we’re disbanding the Council. And, as the first King of Mars, I decline your request to attempt a mission to Earth. Whether you actually came from there or not.”
“But, what will you do when the hydroponics fail?”
“I’m sure we can solve that problem without getting ourselves executed. We have plenty to eat here.” Son Adam gestured to the cargo containers.
“But what about everyone else?”
“What about them?”
“You’re going to kill millions of people just to be King?”
“The only reason to kill millions of people that there’s ever been.”
Maria interjected, “Stop playing, Adam. We don’t owe them an explanation. It’s time to get moving.”
“What are we doing with them?”
“Winston has always been useful… I have an idea for him. I think Mister ‘What can you do?’ will be a handy convert. Cuff him and bring him with us. Shoot the Deep Warder.”
One of the Sons of Mars stepped forward and aimed a rifle at Zell.
Zell jumped. He snatched the COMMAND manual from Son Adam and rolled as a laser blast hit a cargo container and ricocheted. Several other jumpy goons pulled the trigger too. Everyone ducked and a few people hit the floor entirely as the cargo bay turned into a high energy pinball machine.
The bolts fizzled out leaving nothing but ozone-scented smoke and a few embarrassed Sons of Mars. Zell was no where to be seen.
“You idiots!” Maria screamed. She slapped the first Son who fired. She turned to Son Adam and jabbed a finger up into his chest. “You medieval idiot! You just had to have guns! That’s why they banned those things!”
Trying to appear unmoved, Son Adam started barking orders to his team.
“Stop, stop, STOP,” Maria yelled. “Let him go. We’ll get him later even if we have to vent the whole Site. We’ve got the pilot. That ship isn’t going anywhere. Let’s get to the Atrium.”
Eighth Chapter
Although they were missing their hero, the Council was technically already in session by the time Son Adam careened through the door with a train of red jumpsuits behind him. Indignant calls for security were ignored. Continued interjections were discouraged by polite displays of laser weaponry. The friendly film crew was already streaming when Son Adam stepped on to the table.
“Citizens of Mars, do you know what goes on in this room?
“While you toil deep in fabs or recirculators, your ‘representatives’ have carved out cushy lives for their families, with offices overlooking this very Atrium. While you struggle with smaller rations and missed medicines, they have stockpiled these very items for themselves in secret. Yes, instead of new jobs and more space for growing families in Rock Ward, they retrofitted a colonial backup site into a citadel for themselves.
“Worse even than their graft and their corruption, however, has been their heresy. They deny the primacy of Mars in the galaxy! Instead of fixing grow lamps or building new fabs, they have siphoned off parts to build something monstrous. Something futile. Something arrogant.
“They have built a spaceship. They intend to send hardwon metal hurtling into the void in search of old Gods. Not content to stripmine our own city and planet, they seek the blessings of a Savior race in some ancestral Eden to extend their domination to the stars.
“They say they have been to this Eden. They say they are from there! Lies!
“But, fear not my sons and daughters of Mars. I am here to expose these liars, these thieves, these heretics.
“As for you,” he glowered at the Council, “I am not beyond mercy. Repent of your lies and live.”
He waved an arm. Councillor Anna Kwon was pushed to the edge of the table. Son Adam loomed over her.
“Councillor, do you pledge to return your stolen largesse to the people of Mars?”
“I do.”
“Do you humbly seek the forgiveness of those people?”
“I do.” She chocked back a sob.
“Do you humbly seek MY forgiveness?”
“I do.” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“Do you renounce your lies of Earth? Do you affirm your Martian birth?”
“I do.” Tears flowed down both cheeks as she stifled sobs.
“Go and sin no more.”
Two Sons of Adam flanked the Councillor and forcefully took her arms. She looked over her shoulder as she was shoved from the room. The other Councillors sat rigidly. The squeaking of a chair caused a few to flinch.
Son Adam turned to Winston and beckoned. Winston was shoved up to the table.
“Here we have our would-be pilot. Another Earth worshipper. A man who so despises his home that he would rob it only to leave it.”
Son Adam knelt on the table. His face hovered over Winston’s.
“Do you renounce your lies of Earth?“
Winston thought of the sun, spring breezes, and green grass.
“Do you affirm your Martian birth?”
Winston thought of Martha, of leaving her for launch. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t make the words. A rifle prodded him.
“Yes,” Winston mumbled.
“So that your fellow citizens may hear you,” said Son Adam, his eyebrows raised in annoyance.
“Yes,” Winston said.
As Son Adam straightened himself triumphantly, a cold sweat came over Winston. He thought of tears, snow, dead winter trees, and a daughter without a face.
“No!” Winston yelled, climbing on to the table, “No! No! No!”
Every rifle in the room rose to Winston.
“No! I’m from Earth and I’m going back!” Winston yelled. He was face to face with Son Adam. He could feel Son Adam’s rising, angry breath. He saw the whites of Son Adam’s eyes, large with rage. He heard the slow, nasal inhalation.
Son Adam shoved him. Winston fell backward off the table, landing on an injured shoulder. He groaned and rolled over to see Son Adam pointed a laser pistol at him.
“Very well,” Son Adam seethed, “my mercy is plentiful, but not unlimited. You are a heretic and are hereby condemned to death.” His finger moved to the trigger.
Winston closed his eyes.
They lit up red. A wail filled his ears. Was he dead?
“Fire detected. Fire detected. Atrium Zone oxygen will be evacuated in 30 seconds. Seek exits or external mobility equipment immediately.”
An alarm! Winston opened his eyes. Son Adam still stood above him, looking quickly left and right as every other person in the room knocked over chairs and pushed at the doors to get out.
Winston rolled under the table. He was still in an ExM suit! He flipped down the visor.
“Atrium Zone oxygen evacuation in 20 seconds. Seek exits or external mobility equipment immediately.”
Son Adam looked over the edge of the table, pointing the pistol. Winston closed his eyes again.
“Atrium zone oxygen evacuation in 10 seconds. Seek exits or external mobility equipment immediately.”
A laser blast. Clean and clear over the alarm. Nothing. Winston opened one eye.
“Oxygen evacuation in 5… 4…”
Winston checked himself. No new blood. A face appeared under the table. Winston jumped.
“Oxygen evacuation in progress for atrium zone. Survivors must seek external mobility equipment immediately.”
It was Zell, smiling. He was still in his own ExM suit and holding a smoking pistol in one hand and the COMMAND manual in the other.
“Well? Are we on or what?”
Winston climbed out from the table.
Zell was agitated. “Come on, that alarm I threw won’t last forever. And they’ll be back any moment! As soon as they get their ExM suits, we’re fucked!”
Winston remembered the First Ward, Atrium Zone ExM suits he’d left sitting on his workbench yesterday morning and grimaced, “No, I don’t think we have to worry about that.”
They left carefully. Winston explained the botched ExM maintenance to Zell as they crossed the Atrium. Now it was perfectly still. There were no sounds except the alarm refrain. The polished floor was covered with abandoned protest signs, cups, and other detritus. There were piles by the doors, barely visible through the trees. Winston tried not to think about it.
“I wonder who they’ll miss more,” Zell mused, “the thieves or the tyrants.”
They took a maintenance tunnel to the hangar. The crew that hadn’t responded to the alarm was noisily watching a TV in a control room.
Zell and Winston found the Betsy Ross. It had been cleaned and hoses were connected to valves and ports. They disengaged the hoses and boarded the ship. Zell watched the ramp. Winston went to the cockpit.
He eased himself into the chair. He’d sat here many times - just to pretend, just to imagine. Now he was finally ready to go. He looked at faded photo of Martha taped on the dash, next to a blank piece of paper that served as a placeholder for his daughter.
He ran the final checks. Whatever Diego’s faults, at least he’d had the ship prepped as promised.
Fuel: 77%.
Oxygen: 100%.
Rebreather: Functioning.
Stasis balancer: Functioning.
Food Pellets: 2,008 crew member-days.
Ground comms: active, no signal.
Stellar comms: active, no signal.
“Winston, we got a problem!” Zell yelled from the ramp. Winston ran to see. The bay crew had turned their attention from the TV and were looking at the ship. Several of them started to walk over, talking into headsets.
“Letsgoletsgoletsgo,” Zell said.
A few Sons of Mars appeared in distant doorway.
Winston ran back to the cockpit. Checks were complete, but… Winston’s stomach dropped… but, they needed the door opened.
“Are we ready?” Zell yelled.
“We need the door open!”
“The door?”
“The cargo bay door!”
“We ran a prison break and a coup to get stopped by a door?”
“If you can’t get to the control room and open it, yeah!”
Just then the comms lit up. It was Taylor.
“There you are! I’ve been scanning channels since I saw the alarm on TV.”
“So sorry, Taylor, I’m kinda busy. Get an echo team out by the Deep Ward brig, they’ll find service tunnels. Lots of medicine out there, I gotta go.”
“Wait! I can see the bay doors are closed, do you need those open?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
“Thank YOU! Good luck!” And the line cut back to static.
Zell was shooting off the ramp.
“Cease fire! Cease fire! I have to close the ramp.”
The cargo bay door cracked open. Zell fired again.
“Stop shooting! Stop shooting!”
Engines engaged.
“Ha! They’re running! They STILL didn’t grab ExM suits! Ha!”
Another shot.
“Zell! Knock it off!”
Ramp close switch engaged. Bay door clearance confirmed.
“Buckle in.”
Launch code accepted.
“Earth girls, here we come!”
Winston leaned over to hit the throttle. He saw his wife’s picture. He saw the blank paper. He imagined a smile there instead and punched “Liftoff.”
-
THE END
Thanks for the fun read. Well done.