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  “This is very impressive. It takes a lot of skill and knowledge to be able to do this,” said Jann.

  “I wonder if they’re genetically engineered?” Paolio was leaning over a tank looking down at the swimming fish.

  “That’s a possibility. Although I didn’t hear of it. Still, they were very secretive about what they were doing up here.”

  “If you’re finished your sweep, meet us in the middle. There’s something here you should see.” Decker’s voice echoed in Jann’s helmet. She nodded over at Paolio and they both made for the rendezvous point in the middle of the dome.

  “It’s getting very hot in this suit.” Jann was looking at the temperature readout on her helmet’s biometric display. The EVA suit was designed to keep the occupant warm on the surface of Mars, where it could often be minus sixty. But in the hot and humid environment of the biodome the suit was having trouble maintaining a comfortable level. “We’re going to have to get out of here soon.”

  “Yeah, I’m boiling up.”

  As they moved closer to the middle of the vast space, the neat rows of hydroponics gave way to an overgrown wilderness. The plants in this section had been let to run rampant. Yet here and there could be seen a deliberate planting structure. Someone designed it this way. Tall trees and grasses lined the path and, as they neared the center, branches began to hang down and form a tunnel. It was covered with trailing vines.

  “It’s like a tropical glasshouse in some botanic garden,” said Jann, as she brushed her gloved hand along the hanging tendrils.

  The path ended and they stepped out onto a large central dais. It was wide and flat. At the far end it sloped into a sizable pond, with a three meter high waterfall that sparkled and danced in the pale sunlight. The others were gathered around a hammock slung between two trees. Below it, on a low table, was a control interface of some kind. Kevin was down on one knee investigating.

  “This is amazing,” said Jann looking around.

  “It’s like Paradise Island,” replied Paolio.

  “Decker looked over at them. “Anything?”

  “No, nothing. Just fish.”

  “Maybe they really are hiding from us,” ventured Lu.

  “Someone’s here—somewhere.” Decker was looking at a schematic of the facility on a small tablet screen.

  “I’m burning up in this suit, we can’t stay here much longer.” Annis was also getting uncomfortable.

  “Dammit, I don’t want to report to mission control that the place is functioning and colonists are still alive but we can’t find them,” said Decker.

  “We may have to. We need to get out of here and back to the HAB. We can do a better search tomorrow.” Annis was moving off towards the airlock.

  “Wait a minute.” With that, Decker reached for the side of his helmet to flip open the visor.

  “No… wait… don’t do that. The air could be poisonous in here. We need to do some analysis first.”

  “It’s fine, Paolio. Someone’s alive in here so they must be breathing good air, right?

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  Decker ignored him and popped his visor open. He held his breath for a second or two and then took his first gulp of Colony One air. The others waited. He smiled, laughed and breathed again. Then he sniffed. “It smells like… like a forest.”

  Annis was next to pop her visor. She took a deep breath and then removed her helmet completely, shaking out her long hair. “Oh my god, that’s better. I was beginning to feel like a hot dog in a water bath.”

  Kevin was next and soon they all had their helmets off. Jann was last to open her visor and breathe the fragrant air. Decker was right. It smelled of botanicals and biomass. It was strange that a colony outpost, on a far off planet, should have such a smell. It reminded Jann of an exotic garden.

  Decker removed his gloves. “Okay, this gives us a lot more time to do a thorough search of the facility and find these people.” He was back to consulting his screen.

  “I don’t think they want to be found,” said Jann.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why not? They’ve just endured three and a half years isolated here with no communication,” said Annis.

  “Maybe they’ve gone insane—you know, and think we’re a bunch of aliens invading the planet,” offered Kevin.

  Decker ignored these comments. “We still haven’t searched any of the modules along these other sections. I suggest two of us stay here and keep an eye on the door into the dome. The rest of us will continue the search.”

  I’ll stay here, if that’s okay,” said Lu.

  “Fine, Kevin can keep you company. The rest of you… let’s go, let’s find these people.”

  There were a myriad of other modules connected to smaller domes, all grouped in different configurations. The first group they came to seemed to be used for refrigerated storage of some kind. Jann opened one of the large doors. “There’s no point in that, Jann. We’re not looking for a snowman.” Decker laughed at his own joke. Then he stopped, gripped his abdomen and bent over with a low groan.

  “Commander, what is it?” said Paolio.

  He stood upright again. “It’s nothing, just a bit dehydrated I think.”

  “Let me have a look at you.”

  Decker brushed him away. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.” With that he doubled over again clutching his stomach.”

  “You’re not fine, let me see you.” Paolio examined the commander as best he could. He felt his pulse and then put the back of his hand on Decker’s forehead. “You’re burning up. We need to get you back to the HAB—right now.”

  This time the commander didn’t protest. He was leaning against the module wall, slowly sliding down onto the floor.

  “Jann, give me a hand here.” Paolio was throwing Decker’s arm around his shoulder. Jann grabbed the other side and they helped him up.

  “We need to go,” said Paolio, as he and Jann helped Decker walk back to the entrance airlock.

  “Lu, Kevin, you both better get out here,” said Annis. There was no mistaking the note of urgency in her voice.

  “What’s happened?” said Lu when she saw them holding Decker up.

  “The commander is not feeling well. Everyone put their helmets on—now. We’re heading back to the HAB.”

  They carried Decker into the airlock. He was conscious but seemed to be having intermittent cramps and would double over in pain when they struck.

  Once the crew were all back outside on the surface Annis hit a button on her remote. The rover awoke and started across the site towards them. They bundled the commander into the back of the rover and started off. “We’d better hurry,” said Paolio. The rover bumped and rocked over the Martian terrain as they all pushed hard for the HAB. Decker was bounced around and lapsed in and out of consciousness. Jann watched all this from her permanent place as last in line. No one spoke.

  Once inside the HAB they got the commander out of his EVA suit and laid him on a bed in the tiny medical bay. He was now unconscious. Paolio shooed the others away and started his examination. The crew retreated into the operations area.

  “Anyone else feel unwell?” Annis had assumed command now that Decker was non-operational, as she put it. Grunts and head shakes rippled around the crew as they eyed each other like a clandestine group seeking out a spy in their midst. They were all okay—for now. The crew sat in silence for a long time, waiting for the verdict from Paolio.

  “So what the hell is it?” Annis was pacing; it was a habit of hers. The doctor had finished his examination and re-entered the operations area.

  “I think it’s possibly an allergic reaction. But he’s stable now and I reckon he’ll be okay, once it passes.”

  An audible sigh of relief emanated from the assembled crew.

  “Do you think it was the air in the Colony?” Annis continued.

  “I don’t think so, since everyone else seems fine. But, it’s not possible to know for sure without some further analysis.
Now, if you don’t mind, I need a stiff coffee.” He moved off to fire up the espresso machine.

  “Everyone else is okay, aren’t they?” Annis looked around at the rest of the crew. They all nodded. Yet Jann knew they were all thinking the same thing. “Only time will tell.”

  5

  Vanhoff

  Peter VanHoff, president of the Colony One Mars consortium, stood watching the snow fall from a window high up in his isolated Norwegian mansion. It swirled and danced under the garden lights, accumulating where it lay, like a soft duvet blanketing the earth. He turned away from the window and set about poking the log fire that was burning in the hearth. Sparks flared up with each thrust of the fire iron. He hung it back on its stand and sat himself in a high-backed leather armchair. Winter had thrust its first icy fingers into the landscape. He liked this time. The natural world slowed down, hibernated. He felt it resonated with his condition and held it in check.

  Born with a rare genetic disorder akin to progeria, he aged at an accelerated rate. He was only thirty-eight, yet he looked fifty plus. Peter touched the back of his hand, the parchment skin, the genetically flawed epidermis—an ever-present reminder of his affliction. Was it improving? Was it getting worse? He couldn’t tell. At least maintaining the status quo was better than succumbing to the inevitable entropy of his condition.

  Yet what would have been a curse for some, Peter VanHoff turned into a crusade, dedicating himself to the genetic understanding of the aging process, becoming one of the foremost experts in the process. His research corporation made numerous early breakthroughs, resulting in lucrative patents and a considerable fortune for VanHoff. However, his greatest strides were made through the association with the Colony One Mars consortium, COM for short. This commercial partnership enabled his corporation to conduct research on Mars that simply wasn’t ethical on earth.

  His ruminations were interrupted by the chime of his holo-tab. The screen flickered with a muted illumination and an icon rotated above its surface. He had a call—Nagle Bagleir, vice president of COM. What could he want at this time of night? Several disaster scenarios ran through VanHoff’s mind as he waved a hand across the screen. Nagle’s avatar shimmered into existence in the air over the tablet’s surface, and spoke.

  “Extraordinary news, Peter. It looks as if Colony One is not as dead as we thought.”

  Peter sat bolt upright and fumbled with his glasses. There was a moment’s silence as he considered this revelation. “What… alive… are you saying there are colonists still alive up there?”

  “Not quite. But we’ve just got a report in from the ISA crew. A significant portion of the facility is still intact and functioning. It also looks like there are signs of survivors, but we have no confirmation on that just yet.”

  “After all this time—but this is impossible.” The implications of the discovery began to filter through Peter VanHoff’s stunned brain. “What about the research lab? Is that still intact?”

  “We don’t know anything about the lab just yet. What we do know is it’s going to be all over the news in less than an hour. The ISA have scheduled a press conference for 1:30am, your time.”

  “This is incredible.” VanHoff stood up and began to pace. “If that lab is intact then there’s a possibility that the research data still exists.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Peter’s voice became hushed. “We can’t let that fall into the wrong hands.”

  “As in the ISA?”

  “You know who I mean. Everything the ISA does is in the public domain. Anything they find up there can’t be kept hidden.”

  “Well, it’s a bit late for that now. You know as well as I do that after the collapse of the colony we had no option but to hand it all over to them. Otherwise we wouldn’t be back up there now.” Nagle’s avatar shimmered as it spoke. “That said, we do have some contingencies on-site, Peter. But yes, I agree, we wouldn’t want it becoming public.”

  “This is extraordinary. If that data still exists…” VanHoff didn’t finish the sentence.

  “There’s another thing. It may be nothing, then again…”

  “What?”

  “One of the crew has become ill.”

  “Not our agent, I trust?”

  “No, the ISA Commander, Decker.”

  “Is it the same symptoms as… you know?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. Like I said, it could be nothing.”

  There was a pause as VanHoff considered all this information. Nagle continued. “In light of these developments, I suggest reconvening the board.”

  “Agreed, absolutely.”

  “You are of course aware that there will be certain members getting jittery with this news, Peter. You know who I’m talking about.”

  VanHoff grunted. “That research may be more significant to humanity than the discovery of alien life.”

  “Be that as it may. But we’ve been all working under the premise that it was dead and buried—forever. This changes everything.”

  VanHoff stopped pacing the floor. “You’re right, Nagle, let’s not be too hasty. Let’s see how things develop. After all, we have our agent on site. That may prove to be a very wise decision after all.”

  “Yes, it may. I must sign off now; I need to alert the others. I’ll keep you posted on the meeting.” The avatar that was Nagle extinguished itself like a church candle in a draft.

  Before Peter VanHoff took over control of COM, the original members were an eclectic mix of Mars enthusiasts, scientists and captains of industry that shared a common dream—to establish a human colony on Mars and lay the foundations for mankind as an interplanetary species. It had helped that most of them were newly minted tech billionaires. Yet, this in itself was not enough to launch a mission to the red planet. The complexities, and cost, of sending and returning humans had been such that no national space agency, at that time, could entertain it with any real vigor. NASA tried but its timelines kept being pushed out further and further. As one commentator put it, “We’re ten years away from landing on Mars. And regardless of what decade you ask me this, we’ll still be ten years away.”

  But COM had the advantage of being a private company, not bound by the politics of electoral consensus or the restraints of governmental budgets. They were also increasingly frustrated by the lack of progress in manned space exploration since the first moon landings. And so they conceived of a radical plan to establish a human colony on the red planet. Its success pivoted on one simple operational premise—remove the need to return. They would send humans to Mars, but they would not come back. The colonists would live out the rest of their natural lives looking up at Earth from 140 million miles away.

  Of those early colonists, some said they were naive. Others said they were the embodiment of the human spirit. But many simply regarded them as crazy. Who in their right mind would go to Mars in the full knowledge that they could never return? Yet, potential colonists applied in their thousands and the stage was set for the greatest human adventure of all time.

  In the early days, COM sought to fund these missions by turning the colonization of Mars into a reality TV show. They broadcast and streamed everything from the selection process and training, to the first liftoff and daily life on the red planet. It was a slow start but it proved to be an inspired move. As far as the viewers were concerned, it was people power writ large in the heavens, and boy did they love it. As ever more colonists made their way to Mars, their every word, every thought, every mundane activity was recorded, digitized, broadcast and analyzed by the masses back on earth. Everyone who watched these incredible events had an opinion, and not all of them were favorable. Yet, in the end, even the most strident critics of the Colony One Mars adventure eventually succumbed to reluctant admiration. There was no denying it was the dawn of a new era for humanity, an era where the zeitgeist reveled in the optimism for the future of the human race. Just think, if we the people could do this then there was nothing that we cou
ldn't do.

  For a long time this mood prevailed as Colony One grew and prospered. Until the mother of all sandstorms hit. It darkened the sky and blasted the colony for a full six months. Communication became sporadic in frequency and erratic in content. There were rumors of colonists suffering mental breakdown, going crazy even. Concern was building back on Earth, and as the weeks and months passed, this concern grew into fear. Fear that Colony One, and those who called it home, were being etched off the surface of the planet, one grain of sand at a time, like an hourglass running down.

  Attempts at satellite imagery during this period were futile. So it was a full six months after the storm when the first high-resolution images of the site were released to the public. They showed devastation. Worse, bodies of several colonists could be seen lying around the facility. It was clear that Colony One had totally collapsed as a human outpost. That was three and a half years ago.

  An hour after Peter VanHoff finished his call with Nagle Bagleir, the news of the discovery broke on an unsuspecting world. It was a media frenzy.

  6

  Hab

  Jann couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, and thumped her pillow a few times to try and beat some comfort into it. It didn’t work. She lay on her back and stared at the roof of the HAB for a while, but there wasn’t much to look at. The sleeping compartment was cramped, like all the others. Some would find it even a little claustrophobic, but that wasn’t something she suffered from. Being an astronaut was not a job option for anyone who had a fear of enclosed spaces. She sat up. There was no point in forcing it. If she couldn’t sleep she might as well get up and raid the galley for some comfort food, not that there was any. Unless you counted coffee, but it was a bit late for that. She still had hopes of a few hours sleep before taking on the trials of tomorrow.