Whispers of Mars [Chapter 21]

The ride to the neighboring crater and the main station was a long one, silent as well. Cecil could hear the others breathing through the low hum of the radio signals. He couldn’t help but glance back at their trail in the sand, feeling something in his mind unexplainable, like the sound of the strange voice, but finer than a whisper.

Markus interrupted the radio silence as they came into view of the station and its complex of buildings. “Command, come in. This is rover 02, returning to shelter. Over.”

Agrippa sat up and uncrossed his arms before station command could respond. “And we have Ruiz with us. Over.”

“Understood, Rover crew.” The voice was of one of the technicians, but not Cassius. “Airlock is standing by. We desire to have Ruiz at station command as soon as possible. Over and out.”

Cecil hunched down in the seat, his hands held loosely on the bar in front of him. He caught Agrippa’s helmet turning his way. “What’s on your mind going into this?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know.” The older man shook his head. “But I can imagine what Cassius is going to say.”

Markus cleared his throat. “I want to say it won’t be as bad as my tongue-lashing after the accident, but…”

Cecil gripped his hands tight and rattled the gloves back and forth. “Let him say what he wants to.”

Agrippa hummed defeatedly. “Let’s be clear that Cassius has the crew’s best interests in mind and not just senseless punishments.”

Markus slowed the rover and pulled it under the shelter. He was the last to hop out to attach the charging lead from the wall of the structure as Cecil and Agrippa walked to the airlock. After unsuiting inside, Agrippa urged Cecil on ahead to report as ordered.

The entrance to Station Command opened wide enough for the both of them, but Agrippa stayed back. Cassius was leaned back in his chair, eyes facing his monitors and controls. He pushed himself up as the doors shifted open. “Everyone out,” he huffed to the technicians working and watching the readings on the lower level. They shuffled their feet and chairs and removed headphones to file out around Agrippa and Cecil.

The large man shoved the chair about and sat back against the desk. He looked Cecil up and down but refused to speak. Cecil glanced at Agrippa for support, but the older man could only muster a shake of his head in what seemed to be a plea to pay attention.

The long, tense silence was interrupted by the movement of the door behind them. The spindly woman shifted in past Agrippa, who jerked to the side to provide her room. “Forgive my lateness.”

“No,” Cassius spoke up, “It was short notice. Personally, I didn’t think we would see Ruiz here again. At least, in any conscious or breathing form.”

Tulia stepped back to examine Cecil in full form, then leaned in to pull down on his bottom eyelid, then down to his wrist to feel for his pulse. “Are you lucid Mr. Ruiz? Do you know where you are? How you got here?”

Cecil pulled his arm back out of the woman’s grasp. “Perfectly, ma’am,” he said, a knot forming in his chest.

“As he was when we tracked him— found him,” Agrippa spoke up.

Cassius returned to his feet and shifted the chair to the side, showing the images on his middlemost computer screen. “The rover systems tracked you all the way out to the Adventum crater. The fully opposite direction of the compound here from Secundus. Trying to go off and die all alone, Ruiz?”

The hairs on his neck stood up. “No, sir. There was… is something out there.”

“I know what’s out there,” Cassius sneered.

“He had been hiding out in the old station,” Agrippa added.

“And how does one find a place like that on your own? No GPS or maps on you when you snuck out under Agrippa’s nose. It was luck that you ended up there. Unless that voice in your head told you how to get there.”

“Is it your mother’s voice?” Tulia asked. “Like you said before?”

Cecil looked at the floor. “I… just knew. As if… I was guided there.”

Agrippa stepped loudly. “Commander, sir. Surely you’re aware of the situation of Quaseem Saïd, the man who disappeared during the Adventum mission.”

“Of course. Maybe Ruiz here had heard of it too, and was trying to act out a similar drama?”

Agrippa shook his head. “I’m sure he hadn’t… and wasn’t. You know, Said’s personal belongings are still there. As if… because he never left the planet, his things never needed to either. His crewmates were thinking about him.”

“That’s a nice feel-good ending to a tragic story, but let’s focus on Ruiz here.” Cassius tapped his foot. “It seems that our evaluation of Ruiz and his unstable tendencies are not complete.”

“Sir, I believe—“ Agrippa tried to speak.

“Believe what you will, Agrippa, but you’re not the one who has a say in the mental condition of their crew. I placed you down there to watch over him, and report back to myself and Tulia if he displayed any… uncooperative impulses. It unfortunate that that proved too difficult, albeit not entirely because of your own actions. Regardless, Ruiz will now be in our custody.”

Cecil grit his teeth but didn’t respond or dare to look in the direction of any of the others. “Then… what?”

“What to do with you, you mean?” Cassius leaned in, arms crossed. “I intend to hold you here while we figure out what’s making you tick. Agrippa, while your administrative tasks keep you busy down there at Secundus, I’d hope to be able to house Ruiz in your quarters.”

Agrippa nodded. “I have no issue with that.”

Cassius clapped his hands. “Good, then it’s decided. Ruiz, Agrippa here will lead you to gather what you need among your personal items. You shall be confined to those quarters and will have to ask permission to leave to use the facilities when needed. Food will be brought to you, and there will be routine visits to check on your well-being and mental state. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re excused, then. Tulia, let’s discuss the schedule of when Ruiz should be seen.”

---

Agrippa walked ahead. Cecil concentrated on the movement of his heels down the dim corridor. “You’re okay with this?” He said in a low voice when they were sufficiently down the hall away from station command.

Agrippa shrugged. “I’ll be down there at Secundus. My quarters would be empty anyway. Some people could consider it a waste.”

Cecil stopped in place. “You know that’s not what I mean,” He said, his voice echoing slightly. Agrippa stopped for a moment only to continue again after a split second.

Cecil followed after the older man around the corner. The door latch clicked under Agrippa’s tug. He waved Cecil in first.

When the door had closed behind them, Agrippa stood in the path and addressed Cecil. “Do you know what’s making you act like this?”

“—“

“Not the voice, either. Cecil, you must know that… hearing things is not normal. Listening to them… doing as they say… is not something a stable person would do.”

Cecil sat back on the bed, hands on his legs. “The voice… no, it was just a feeling… but it led me there. To that old place. It… knows things, understands things.”

“It.” Agrippa huffed. “At first it was your mother’s voice, then it’s some omnipotent voice of reason telling you to head off on your own to some far-off place on foot. At what point will it… will you end up doing something that is going to get you really, seriously hurt? Get yourself killed?”

Cecil grasped hard onto the edges of the well-used mattress. “Saïd…”

“What about him?”

“Qaseem Saïd. You said… he disappeared one day.”

“And the very same thing may… no, it almost did happen to you.”

Cecil leaned in, shaking his head as the plot in his mind thickened. “What if… what if he felt… heard the same things that I did. That’s why he went off… disappeared.”

Agrippa sighed and drifted away from the door. He opened the locker beside the bed, pulling down some folded underclothes and an extra uniform. With the clothes folded over his forearm, he squeezed past Cecil and dug through the desk in search of a portable hard drive and a key card. “I need to go. This room is all yours for the time being. I can’t entertain these… fantasies anymore.”

“Agrippa.”

Agrippa planted himself before the door, facing the hall. “You’re free to log into the terminal here. It has access to the local database. You might be able to find out something about the Adventum mission, I don’t know. Seeing as how you have the time, you could even request a download from Earth. You can get old text files of old reports downloaded in a few hours. In the meantime, please cooperate with Tulia… and focus on getting better.”

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

Whispers of Mars [Chapter 20]

The air was stale but breathable. The structure was dark, with the only light coming in through the set of doors Cecil had forced his way past. There seemed to be more windows about the edge of the structure, but they had since been buried by the deposition and movement of the planet’s drifts of sand.

Cecil dropped the helmet and worked to shut off the suit’s systems which still buzzed, notifying him of the empty air tank on his back. Dust danced in the light rays from the residual sand on the suit and the disturbed, decaying synthetic material inside the strange structure.

Cecil sat, exhausted, and attempted to force the suit off his lower body. He pulled his arms out and allowed the top half of the shell to hang about his waist. The air inside was cold. His eyes adjusted to the low light.

The shelter was longer than wide and continued off into the darkness for several more meters. The walls were lined with bunks and storage shelves and cabinets and at the center was a pair of long tables mounted to the ground. The ceiling above had been fitted with old lights, able to be depressed for illumination.

With his breath returned to him, Cecil stood, the suit hanging around his hips. He supported himself on the edge of the table and pressed at the first light. It clicked but remained off. With a twist, he separated it from its mount on the plastic shell of the ceiling. The battery compartment had been crusted over with old corrosion, eaten away at the old cells inside. The next light down, however, illuminated with a pale, orange glow.

Cecil took a breath and pulled it off its screws. He shined the beam about, attempting to pick up more clues about the structure.

The cups on the table had been set upside-down on neat paper towels in a rectangular pattern, seven in total. There were bunks in each corner of the structure, two beds per stack, with neatly folded and placed blankets and sheets. All of the cabinets and drawers in between were closed neatly as well. Cecil grabbed at the handles and pulled them out and open on their smooth hinges and rollers.

Inside one were old medical supplies in bottles and boxes and tear-away pouches. Further down, near what would have been used as a galley kitchen, were old foil packets of ready-to-eat meals. Cecil attempted to read the dates on them, but with his blurry vision and the dim light, he couldn’t make them out. He pulled out what he could hold in his free hand and set them across from the cabinet on the table.

The chill caught up to him. He wandered back to the medical supplies and dug through them until he found what he was looking for; a folded packet containing a shiny mylar blanket. He ripped the corner of the package away with his teeth and dug at the sealed sides until it was open. The foil material crinkled as he unfolded it and stretched it over his body.

With the blanket stretched over his shoulders, Cecil sat down at the dining seat and peered at the packets of food. He tore at the top of the nearest one and peered at the contents. Inside was a mix of dried oats and dehydrated fruit, both begging for water. Cecil tossed it down and peered at his hands, the adhesive bandages and gauze coming loose, some still soaking up blood from his wounds.

“What… am I… doing?”

Cecil

The voice was faint and distant. The light he had removed from the ceiling flickered from its spot on the table, facing up at the ceiling.

Cecil stood and fanned out the light, attempting to look for what he had missed. At the farthest bunk, a pile of something had been splayed out, a sole piece within the collection shimmering back at him.

Cecil dragged the blanket behind him, trying his best to hold onto it and the light. He rounded the end of the table and made his way to the final bunk.

Unlike the others, the bedding had not been made nor straightened. The items propped on top seemed to be of a personal nature rather than anything pertaining to the rest of the supplies there. At the base, a book; hardcover with a detailed scrawling upon its cover, then a cup, made out of what looked to be clay, and finally, a wooden charm on a long necklace of wooden beads. Before Cecil could shuffle through the items, he heard and felt the rumble of something beyond the walls.

Cecil stood and inched forward, holding the light to guide his steps. The sound had ceased. The beams of light from the outside were suddenly interrupted as a figure stepped in front of the door. He held his footing as the first of the lock doors were forced open through the drift of sand. The seal cracked loudly as the suited figure made his way inside.

The face was hidden beyond the visor, but Cecil knew who it was. He stepped up forward, but the suited man grabbed him up by the arm before removing the helmet. Cecil was pushed back forcefully, causing him to drop the light and trip back over the ends of the dangling suit about his waist.

Agrippa yanked the seal of his helmet off and huffed loudly. “Cecil, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Cecil inched back, his legs too weak to pick himself up. “I… I didn’t know…”

Agrippa stomped forward, his face obscured in the darkness. “Didn’t know what? What you were doing? Where you were going? If you were going to find your death out here? I don’t understand what went through your mind, Cecil, but it isn’t the thoughts of a stable person.”

Cecil crept back and shuffled the mylar blanket over himself to hide his face. Agrippa huffed again, catching his breath. He shifted down to his knees, rubbing down his face. A small voice whimpered out from the speaker in his helmet.

The older man held the device up to the side of his face and spoke at the microphone. “Don’t worry. I got him.”

Cecil shook his head in disbelief. “How… did you find me?”

“How?” Agrippa barked. “Your suit transmits an emergency beacon when your air is low. And not just that, we were able to track your footprints through the sand here a good portion of the way.”

He pursed his lips and glanced around the inside of the dim structure, catching his breath. “But to think… you made it all the way out here.”

Cecil peeked up. “I… don’t know… what this place is, but… I felt as if I were meant… to come here.”

Agrippa tossed down the helmet and sat back on his legs. “Welcome to the Adventum crater.”

“Why do I know that name?”

“This installation… this sole, little station is from the Adventum Mission. A little over a decade, now. Our predecessors.”

“I… remember.”

“Some better than others.” Agrippa shrugged. “Not all of the updates about the mission were heavily televised or mentioned to the public. The launch, the arrival here… but things after that were kept better under wraps. You remember Tulia’s job description?”

“To… check up on us.”

“To follow our psychological profile. To track the effects of our long-term stay here. A task born from circumstances of this first mission.”

“But… these people… came home, did they not?”

Agrippa caught his breath with one last sigh. He stood and looked around, placing his helmet on the table. “Most of them. All… but one. I have it on good authority that one member of this crew of eight… ended up sick, delusional, with some strange affliction, and eventually… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Took his spacesuit and… headed out the airlock when the others were asleep, I suppose is how it went. He was never heard from again, never found. The agency put the whole thing under wraps and had the others return… never knowing what happened to their fellow crewmate. Quaseem Saïd, I believe his name was.”

Cecil forced himself up. “I believe… his things are back here.”

Agrippa crossed his arms and followed after Cecil to the back of the structure. “Hum. It seems as if they left everything in as neat a condition as if to give him a place to return to. Symbolically, of course.”

Cecil leaned on the bunk, splaying out the things. He felt at the cover of the book, a fine layer of dust upon it. “The Quran,” Agrippa commented, his fingers finding the way to the necklace. “Something here too.”

Cecil shined the light on it. “That say something? Arabic?”

“Yes, if I remember my class in university… allah… yakhudhuk… lilmanzil… May Allah— God— bring you home?”

Cecil sat back and shook his head as Agrippa shifted the necklace around in his hands. “God… you asked me before if I was religious at all.”

“Yes. I forget your answer.”

Cecil shrugged. “Something I care to think I believe, sometimes not.”

“That’s a very non-answer,” the older man said, letting out a sole laugh. “Just like you. It is strange, allowing yourself to come all this way while holding onto your faith. Though, I suppose that is what defines faith.”

“May God bring you home,” Cecil repeated.

“He must have gotten it from someone. A good luck charm,” Agrippa concluded, setting the keepsake down gently.

“It didn’t work,” Cecil said plainly.

“If only you think of it on a physical level. Some would consider… the afterlife, heaven, whatever you want to call it— an eternal home, where you return after your stay on Earth… or elsewhere, in this case.”

A low knock sounded at the door at the opposite end of the structure. Cecil’s head shot back, but Agrippa straightened up without worry. “Oh my, I suppose I left Markus without an update.”

Cecil stared at the floor and felt at the dangling sleeves of his suit. “It’s… just like before. The both of you bringing me back from the edge.”

Agrippa tilted his head but didn’t respond. He shifted back to the table and took up his helmet once again. “I’m here, Markus. Yes, he’s quite right. Somehow. Be ready with the air canister, okay? We shall be right out. Cecil—“

“Huh?”

“It is time to go now.”

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

Whispers of Mars [Chapter 19]

Cecil sat on the edge of the group, upon his cot, while Agrippa and Martinez addressed the others. “… our long-term goal will be to make this station down here as livable conditions not too different from the main complex,” Agrippa explained. “Some of you shall remain here as semi-permanent attendants to the systems that are currently undergoing installation. Systems and Seismography will have to be running here, as well, to determine the impact upon the substrate in this area.”

Martinez nodded. “I will be considering and interviewing some of you for roles in the stations and oversight here. Come to me if you have any desire for such a post.”

Cecil perked up, looking over the gathering of others. His eyes met Agrippa’s, who squinted and seemed to shake his head.

The older man focused again on the others and cleared his throat. “All in good time, of course. Now, once the geothermal system is up and running, our estimation is that it should jump up to optimal efficiency around the three-week mark when the ground has had time to saturate in the supercritical CO2. For record’s sake, I will ask that those carrying out the well-drilling from here on out to keep track of the stone you dig out.”

The Argentinean man nodded. “I will make sure we are held to that, Agrippa. Hansen, stay back. The rest of you continue mounting the system as we have been. We should have an updated work roster put together by tomorrow.”

Cecil stayed in place while the others went off, save the man who Martinez had called on. They danced about the strewn bits of the gearbox that Cecil had left unfinished. There was much nodding and pointing, and a few disguised glanced his way. Cecil eventually laid away on his cot, tuning out the sound of the others speaking indistinctly. He started at his pained, bandaged hands for a moment before settling back.

“Cecil,” Agrippa shifted beside the bed, hands folded together. “I can have you help me.”

Cecil forced himself back up. Hansen had begun gathering up the stray parts and organizing the hardware in a way different than Cecil had done.

Agrippa’s eyes traveled between the both of them. “It will get finished. All things considered, you did a good job with it. Up, now.”

Cecil rubbed at his face with the back of his hand. It was slick with old sweat. His knees ached as he returned to his feet. “What do you want from me?”

Agrippa motioned for him to follow. “I had systems install a radio antenna up on the surface. If it needs some adjustment, I was hoping that you could be the one to help me out,” He paused. “Unless… you’re asking me why I continue to involve myself with you, despite the defensive walls you’ve built up around yourself.”

Cecil held his tongue and continued to follow, watching Agrippa’s back and marching heels. The remaining supplies had been brought down the lift by the others before the meeting. The metal crates and cases had been placed down beside the pool in the main chamber without any thought to where they might go. Agrippa shifted between them to find what he was searching for.

“Here we go,” he said, hefting out a hard-shell case with a handle. He propped it onto the nearest stack of crates and flipped it open. The device inside lit up with the flick of a rocker switch and began to hum. “Let’s see now…”

Cecil stood beside Agrippa and glanced at the piece of equipment. “Markus mentioned… that you thought it was your own fault.”

Agrippa tapped away at the touchscreen, reading the numbers and graphs that shifted about on the readout. He shrugged before answering, “Oh, you’re speaking of before. Is that so? I don’t know if I ever expressed such a thing to Markus. No, I believe what I said was… I feel bad for bringing someone so important on a mission when it could have been anyone else from his department. More so that my decision took that person out of commission for… some time.

I suppose those words could be brought of out context. But do you want to know what led me to make those decisions in the first place? When I went to Martinez to get someone with knowledge on the core drill, in the case something happened, he told me about you— hard working but independent to a fault. He said that you had entranced yourself in the work so much that you were ignoring your well-being. I figured giving you— allowing you a change of scenery would snap you out of it. Instead, I put you in a position where you… you found yourself vulnerable. To… what, I’m still not sure.”

Cecil stepped back silently, shaking his head in thought, and walked to the edge of the pool. He glanced out across its glassy stillness. Before he could speak, the radio crackled with the HF band signaling the connection to the station’s radio systems.

“Command, this is Agrippa, signaling from Secundus station, over”

“We read you, Agrippa, over.”

“Excellent. The transceiver is picking you up loud and clear. Standing by for status updates and orders, over.”

“Current orders are withstanding, Agrippa. We shall contact you again at 0800 tomorrow should they change. Over and out.”

Agrippa stood up, straightening his back. “Wonderful. I know Cassius will like being able to micromanage us some more. Doubt he’ll ever make his way over here, though. Now, as I was saying, Cecil…”

Cecil had dropped to one knee before the pool. He couldn’t tell if it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could detect the faintest ripples across its surface. Agrippa approached him and tugged on his shoulder.

“You’re listening to me, I hope?”

Cecil forced himself up, nodding his head. “Yes, but… why do you care, Agrippa? If you don’t consider it your fault?”

Agrippa crossed his arms. “Do you wish to settle the record, here and now? Is that something that has been weighing you down? Wondering if what happened… down here… was an accident? And if someone was at fault?”

Cecil tucked his hands in by his sides. “You… seem to know better than me.”

“Well, that’s the first time you’ve given consideration to my point of view. Let’s say, perhaps, in a certain way, it was my fault… but only from the luck of the draw. If Hanson or someone else came down here with Markus and me, would they have taken notice of the things you did? Would they have taken the same malfunctioning suit? Would you wish your state of being on someone else?”

Cecil shook his head. “No.”

Agrippa hung his head and nodded. He glanced back at the wall, judging a good spot to sit down upon the wavy surface of the foam. He shifted himself down stiffly and motioned for Cecil to sit as well. “Do you need any antiseptic? Pain killers?”

Cecil sat, trying his best to not lean on his bandaged hands. “It’s… not that bad. No. But… I feel as if… I am constantly in pain. My throat, my head, my stomach.”

Agrippa nodded. “I feel the same way, sometimes. Like the planet is fighting back against us being here. But sometimes… pain reminds us that we are human.”

“The planet…”

Agrippa shifted his eyes to Cecil. “Do you… still hear that voice?”

“What… would you so if I said… yes?”

“I would believe— and be chuffed— that you are sleeping well, albeit with overactive dreams.”

“It doesn’t come when I’m asleep.”

“When you’re awake? Fully? And can you respond?” The older man filtered the skepticism from his voice.

“Back and forth.”

“Interesting. And on what sort of topics?”

Cecil rolled his head back and forth. “On… the things I remember… my thoughts on things.”

“Hum. I may report to Tulia that good portions of your memories are still there, then.”

“To Tulia—“

Agrippa chuckled lowly. “With no urgency. Sometimes… you have to work through things on your own. Get rest. Distract yourself with other things. Being out of work… maybe… has likely given you plenty of time to reflect on… well, on yourself. Sometimes people can’t stand the silence in their own heads, so they dive into various activities to distract them. Things that they don’t even love, only things to take up time. But… maybe I’m thinking of how things were back on Earth. To be honest, I just want things to be simpler. Do you remember what Markus asked you?”

Cecil shook his head. “When?”

“You said… fresh tortillas. Something you missed back on Earth. For me, it was fresh-baked bread. Sometimes its just the simple things.”

“Everything here is endlessly complex.”

Agrippa nodded enthusiastically. “You understand how I feel, then. There’s another lost ideal, the weekend. Sleeping in. Never paused to really enjoy those things in the past, myself, though.”

Cecil hunched down, bringing his knees to his chest. Far off in the deep reaches of the tunnels was the sound of pounding and whirring tools. Agrippa began to nod off, his arms crossed peacefully across his chest and eyes flickering just slightly.

Cecil

The feeling of sleep had almost found him as well, but he was suddenly wide awake. Agrippa breathed in long, low breaths. Cecil stood as silently as possible and stared at the pool, then the ladder up.

His hands cried out in pain as he pulled himself up rung after rung, only able to pause at the platform over the water. The light of the day glowed through the airlock doors. As expected, the suit that Agrippa had worn to come there to Secundus was removed and hung up there in the surface structure. Cecil pulled off the grease-ordained coveralls and slipped into the underclothes, followed finally by the environmental suit. Before sealing the helmet around his head, he glanced down the tube in case anyone had noticed him departing.

The change in pressure made his ears pop as he exited the airlock. From the position of the sole structure there up on the side of the crater, he couldn’t see any other sign of life, but he knew that there was something beyond what he knew. The sandy slope that led to the upper ridge of the crater was the correct way to go, even if the climb would be arduous.

The slope climbed up higher over rocky crags and settled drifts of sand. Cecil kept moving, step after step, finding his footing. His knees and arms ached as he tried to keep himself upright, struggling as his feet either sunk into the sand or arched over the uneven stones. It wasn’t long before the surface station of Secundus had disappeared out of sight.

By the time he reached the top of the ridge, his breath was heavy, forming a cloud of condensation on the visor in front of him. The sound of his lungs filling up echoed about in the enclosed space of the suit. The last few long pushes and grasps through the loose material brought him to a stable shelf above most other formations.

The sky was a hazy brown like most other times, growing dimmer little by little. In catching his breath, he attempted to look back at where he had come from, perhaps the station down in the lower reaches of the Antrum crater. Only more of the seemingly repeating landscape could be seen.

Cecil

Keep going.

His breathing quieted. The only way logical way to continue was forward.

The ridge was narrow, on one side the slope he had mounted, and on the other, a more gentle descent into the adjacent depression. The rock beneath his feet was kind and weathered, at least for the earliest of his strides.

A sole beep sounded out, radiating about his helmet. He ignored the sound, guided only by the rough shifting of sand beneath the thick soles of the suit. The ground evened out, but the shifting silt held to his feet, holding him back.

Each step became more difficult until he was simply dragging his feet through the ever-changing granules. The beep sounded again, sharper and more urgent than the last. Cecil’s knees ached. The beep sounded again. The air in his helmet was becoming more humid.

The glint in the distance caught his eye. It resided in a mound protruding from the otherwise flat landscape. He pushed on, knowing that whatever it was had to be the thing that was calling to him. The beep came once more. In the glare of his helmet visor, he saw the red light flashing upon his wrist. It was the oxygen sensor, yet another thing vying for his attention, signaling that he would soon be out. His legs continued to move, they had to. His brain teased the idea of looking back, imagining, hoping, that he would see Secundus or the main station in his view. No, the only thing that lay before him was the sharp, geometric, purposefully designed debris.

Cecil fell forward onto his knees within reach of it. The old chrome plating of the metal had been worn down and chipped away by countless passing sandstorms. The siding of the structure continued deeper into the sand, something made out of a transparent material.

The beep sounded a third time as Cecil began to push away at the sand around the area, attempting to work his way deeper. It flowed like water back into the depression as he pushed away at it. The clumsy gloves worked to make progress. The beep sounded again, and the light flashed more quickly.

Cecil’s breath rose and fell more quickly as he worked away at the side of the structure. Beyond a handful of the loose material was a handle. Not much further was the bottom of the door, which would open for him and allow him inside. He could reach the base of the structure and prop it open enough to slide inside.

Cecil’s mouth was dry, and he tasted copper. The beep sounded again, then again, countless times after. He kicked away at the sand with the bottoms of his feet, attempting to force enough room beneath him. His fingers tugged at the handle and forced it open, hoping that the fixture would allow him to push more of the loose material back.

Cecil shoved himself inside, scraping the seams of the suit against the weathered edges of the entrance. The old airlock was little more than a double set of doors to prevent the loss of pressure as someone passed through, but it was just enough. Trickles of sand forced themselves in as he pulled the exterior door closed, followed by the interior.

The beep had become a solid tone. Cecil unlatched the helmet and attempted a breath of whatever laid within. The tone was just a low buzz as the speaker departed his ear.

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

Whispers of Mars [Chapter 18]

The section leader had stomped back to check on Cecil and had found him surrounded by the tools and parts, staring at his hands. “What the hell are you thinking? Get up.”

Cecil found that the clenching, even the slightest movement of his hands, made the pain nearly unbearable. Martinez shuffled through the haphazard collection of supplies. “Where is the damn first-aid kit. This place is a mess.”

A tub of water was heated over the electric burner— the same setup for warming their meals— until it was steaming. Martinez offered over the soap from the half-filled bottle of heavy-duty cleaner. “What were you thinking, working so reckless like that?”

The heavy, abrasive foaming liquid stung the cuts, but it also ate away quickly at the embedded grease. Martinez forced his hands down into the heated water and wrenched his fingers around.

“This is going to hurt more and take longer if you dick around,” He huffed, eyes glaring lowly in Cecil’s direction. “I understand your condition, even the trouble you’ve had the past week or so. But I don’t know what’s come over you now, like you’re… just working autopilot, you see, viste? Not a brain in your head.”

As the last bits of grease came off, the blood began to flow, dripping and seeping from the cuts, from under flaps of torn skin, and from the punctures along his wrist.

“Is this why Command wanted me to keep an eye on you? Because you want to give yourself harm?”

Cecil shook his head apathetically. “I just… thought… I wasn’t paying attention.”

Martinez let out a low grumble. “You pay attention to the machines, but not yourself. Do you want to get hurt bad? You were thinking of hurting yourself so bad that you don’t have to work anymore? That you get out of here?”

Cecil tensed up and yanked his arms out of the Hispanic man’s grasp. The water ran down his wrists, stained with the wisps of his own blood trailing in the drops. He held his arms up before his face. “I… want to do my job. Do it well.”

“You’ve always done your job well. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I… couldn’t… feel myself… being hurt.”

“You’ve barely even had a scratch on you before,” Martinez shuffled. He sighed and leaned down to find the gauze bandages in the kit. “What are you even thinking about now?”

“I… don’t know.”

The Argentinean man stepped forward and yanked on Cecil’s wrist, pulling him to the nearby arrangement of cots. “Come here, sit,” he said, pulling his hands close enough to begin the first windings of bandages around his hands. “Don’t move. You’re out of commission, at least anything hands-on, viste. I’ll have someone help you later, putting this back together.”

Martinez wrapped the bandages tight, starting from his wrists and around his palms before being tied off. The leader was quiet and attentive while he secured the ends of the bandages and made work with the smaller nicks and cuts on Cecil’s fingers with the more delicate bandages. “We’ll have to get more,” he mumbled under his breath, eyes on his work. “I… never had kids— plenty of nieces and nephews— I imagined having kids would be like this. The nursing part, at least.”

Cecil jerked his hands away, tucking his hands in by his sides. “I don’t need you to baby me, dote on me.” He shook his head defensively.

Martinez sat back, the bandage wrappers on his lap and by his seat. He gathered and crumpled them loudly in one hand and forced himself up. “What do you say— suit yourself?” He growled. “I need to be back at work anyways. Do not touch that device anymore, viste?”

Cecil clenched his fists painfully. The tight gauze dug into his skin. Trails of dried blood ran down into his sleeves and stained his skin, as well as in dark drops across the front of his uniform. He stared down at his hands once more, sore and tingling in some places.

He stood up off the edge of the cot and began to wander the tunnel, resting his weight against the foam wall. The ground rose little by little, the way back up to the surface that he and the other two men had descended long before. He passed the last of the string lights mounted to the ceiling and shuffled into the shadowy lengths of tunnel.

The path ended not much further from there, barricaded purposefully by human materials. The rock had been carved out into a square and plumb opening, then a metal frame installed and sealed, and finally closed off entirely by metal plating, skillfully welded together to be airtight. The OxyFoam clung to the corners and edges of the installation, closing any remaining gaps that might have sabotaged the livable space down there in the tunnels.

Cecil pressed his forehead to the metal plate. It was warm to the touch of his skin, heated by the activity in the surrounding rock. He rested his body against the warmth of the material, breathing slowly while his hands throbbed by his sides.

Back in the direction of the chamber, the light was barely visible around the gentle curing of the tunnel. Cecil sucked in the warm air and returned, holding his hands under his arms.

The parts of the gearbox laid strewn about from his frantic work, seeming to taunt him. He could barely recognize the fittings and bolts and panels and gears then as if they had been grabbed up and replaced by similar but not identical parts that would have never worked in any sort of combination. Despite all his work, it would be someone else’s task to take over, take credit for.

Cecil kicked at the cots and knocked them about, flipping them and their loose bedding over and across the floor. The simple accommodations toppled harmlessly onto the foam-covered ground. Cecil crouched down, falling to his knees and pulling himself against the wall. His head pounded with a sudden pain, but the tight closing of his eyes and the clenching of his injured and bandaged fists was enough to ignore the ache.

---

The sound of voices awoke Cecil some time later. Someone had sheltered him under a spare blanket in his hunched position there by the wall. The cots had been rearranged back to their original positions as if nothing had happened. The lights were low. The others chatted amongst each other before eventually drifting off to sleep, peacefully unaware of Cecil and his presence.

They spoke of work and others about the station, or what improvements they might make to certain systems, or what they imagined the yields of the improvements might be. It was taboo, Cecil knew, to talk of what they had left behind at home; memories, foods, entertainment, time to themselves… people they thought about. Eventually, the chatter stopped and was replaced by the creaking of shifting bodies and their low, regular breaths and snores.

Cecil stood, taking the blanket with him. The central room was several degrees colder than the tunnel there. By the time Cecil realized where his sore feet were taking him, the glimmer of the lights across the pool had entranced him. He clenched his fists and felt the fresh pain of the wounds attempting to heal themselves beneath the gauze. He suddenly knew he wanted to hear the voice again, regardless of who or what it belonged to.

“Mother?” He spoke, his voice disappearing into the stretches of tunnels.

The voice did not return but instead forced him to wait. He sat, expecting, hoping, that it would respond. He relaxed his hands, having unconsciously wound themselves into a tight grasp, leaving behind only a dull tingling.

I feel you.

Cecil shook his head indignantly, forcing the tiredness out of his eyes. “Do you feel what I feel? The pain? My hands, my body, my head?”

You reawoke to your purpose.

Cecil held his head in his hands, the rough gauze scratching at his skin. “This the cost of being useful, I suppose. We beat ourselves up here, every day.”

You sacrifice.

“It is a sacrifice. We work long hours because, without them, we would have time to contemplate our future here, doing only the same thing over and over without cease. In order to help our fellow humans, we’ve severed ourselves from humanity, and… all the things that make us human.”

I see.

“I can’t help but think… that this place is not meant for us. It never has been.”

The Earth.

“The Earth is perfect for us. It was. It had clean air, perfect for our breathing. Perfect land, for bringing food to us, all of nature working in perfect harmony, with us a part of it. The perfect temperature to keep us and nature alive. We’ve ruined that, us humans. We think we can come here and remake Earth-like snapshots in little domes here. Will we be eventually doomed to do the same here?”

Humans are peculiar.

Cecil sat up, stretching his back painfully. “You say that… like… no, you’re not like us.”

Am I not?

“Are you? You… feel me, but you… are… an enigma. Agrippa asked me… no. So long ago, people used to look up to the sky, see the stars, and imagine that all the little lights were… gods, greater powers. Up there was… heaven, they would say… a place to go after you died. Then humans began to understand that the lights in the night sky were stars, countless spheres like our own sun here, hosting systems of planets. Humans had to wonder… if we were alone in the grand expanse of the galaxy, the universe. Is… that question answered now?”

Is it?

“What are you, then?”

…

“I can’t help but think… imagine that… you are just my own thoughts, my own perverted mind, just repeating my own thoughts to me.”

Your thoughts are intriguing.

“You say you feel me. Feeling my thoughts. Why me alone? Was it because I discovered you first? Came across you, down here in this place? Because of my falling into this pool here? Did I… awake you? Disturb you? Form some sort of bond with you?”

…

“Why only me? Why can only you speak to me? Why only when I am alone?”

You are not alone.

Cecil jumped at the sound of the sudden rumbling, far above. When he glanced up, beyond the glow of the string lights, he saw the refraction of daylight descending through the void leading to the surface. Someone was above, entering through the airlock, bringing something with them.

Next came the person, carefully stepping down the ladder one rung at a time, head darting back and forth to judge the next step and their proximity to the scaffolded platform below.

“That isn’t you, Cecil?” It was Agrippa’s voice.

Cecil stood, catching the blanket before it fell to the ground.

“Why are you here?”

Agrippa descended the next ladder, shorter, to meet with the ground. “Please, I know it’s early for you. Let me speak to Martinez first, before he starts handing out orders to the others. Unless they’ve already set off to work?”

Cecil shook his head. “No— what time is it?”

“0930 hours.”

“I don’t know. I’ve… been out here.”

Agrippa rolled his head. “I understand. Hold tight.”

The bald man patted Cecil on the shoulder and continued off down the first tunnel to the sleeping quarters. Cecil followed after from a distance and watched as he pulled the Argentinean man away and engaged him. Slightly down the tunnel from them, he was able to catch the louder parts of their conversation.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Martinez seemed upset.

“I know. But I will stay out of your way. I just need some of your men before systems gets here.”

“You know—“ his voice went lower, glancing about.

“I know. But we’re making good progress.”

Martinez concluded with his arms held high against his chest. “It will have to do.”

Cecil leaned against the wall, attempting to stay out of sight while his boss offered new directions to the others. Agrippa eventually returned, leading two of the others. He jutted a finger up the ladder to direct them but stopped as they went ahead. As their voices trailed off, the older man planted himself before Cecil.

“Let’s see those hands.”

Cecil stared at his feet.

Agrippa sighed. “I’m sorry, that sounded too forceful. How bad is it?”

“How do you know about all that?”

“Martinez sent a message our way yesterday afternoon. After you cut yourself up. I was able to arrange my responsibilities so that I can carry out my duties here, and help to prepare for the next stage of this area’s installations.”

“Why…?”

“You know why.” Agrippa crossed his arms.

The compact winch in the structure above began to lower its cargo downwards inside the attached cage. Among the crates were tall, round gas canisters, carefully balanced in the corner.

“There we go. There’s some CO2 to seed the systems down here,” Agrippa explained. “Some more supplies too, including medical supplies.”

Cecil glanced up to the descending platform, making its way to the chamber floor. “I can help. Unloading things.”

Agrippa shook his head and glanced at Cecil’s bandaged and bound hands. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll be working with Martinez to get a revised duty roster put together. It may slow down the current task, but it will help us out in the long run.”

“The duty roster… you’ll put me on it, right?”

Agrippa shrugged. “I would hope so. But we… should talk first.”

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Whispers of Mars [Chapter 17]

Cecil managed to put down the entire pack of the ready-to-eat meal, once again something not quite describable. The text on the packet was too illegible with its age and the low light. He sat back on the cot, stomach full, while the others chattered.

Their words seemed to tiptoe, avoiding speaking to or of him and his task, afraid to provoke something they couldn’t decide on. He continued to listen while their own fatigue took over. When the lights dimmed, Cecil hoped to find nothing but sleep.

Cecil

He turned over, seeking out the voice. It was as if no time had passed, but the others had already fallen into deep sleeps, breaths regular and arms crossed over their chests.

Cecil

He breathed in slowly, then sat himself up stiffly. The springs of the cot creaked in low complaints, but not enough to wake the others from their exhausted slumber. Sweat had gathered all around his neckline. A slight tug to the zipper on his suit allowed in the slightly cooler air as it wafted down the tunnel toward the sleeping area.

The pool glimmered in the glow of the string lights. Cecil chose to sit, facing the glassy surface.

Cecil

I feel you

“I… feel you too. I mean, I hear you. But I know… I’m certain that I’m awake right now, that this is not a dream.”

You have many thoughts, Cecil Ruiz.

“…”

The others have many thoughts as well.

“Is that… what I heard, then?”

The others are different, though. You are the only one I feel.

“What do I call you?”

…

A word you said before.

A memory you have of the word.

“…Mother?”

Mother

“Your… voice is hers.”

Your memories are full of the sound of my voice.

“Her voice. You’re wrong, it’s her voice. But you’re not her.”

…

You feel what I feel.

“Do I?”

You feel the constriction, the disturbance, the upheavals, the trembling, the violation of this ground.

“I do, but I don’t understand it. What sort of thing are you?”

…

Tell me of Earth

“Do you know Earth?”

It is within your thoughts.

“I… suppose Earth is where… I may have returned to, if… they… had their way. But… no… there is no way back. Not for me.”

There is no way back. Why do you want to go back.

“I… I can no longer perform the tasks that I was sent here to do. If I don’t pull my weight, then there’s no sense in me being here. But… sending me back would be an even bigger burden.”

What is back there, Earth.

“Earth… does not have the means to support us anymore.”

Does it not.

“Its hospitality will have run out before the end of my lifespan. Us humans have run amok across it for too long, treated it too poorly. There are places inhospitable, some because of the heat, or too little water, or some places under it.”

And you are here.

“We are… supposed to make this place into a new home. But we are just at the beginning. So much lays before us. We are… attempting to build something from nothing. We are supposed to lead humanity into the future. But… if I cannot do the tasks that are suspected of me… It’s as if… I am holding everyone back. Everyone here, and everyone at home.”

The people at home.

“My only connection back to Earth is gone.”

Your mother.

“You are not her. What are you?”

What do you want me to be.

“You’re not real.”

You feel me. I feel you.

…

I feel everything that you are, everything inside of you.

…

Cecil Ruiz. I pity you.

Its voice changed, or perhaps it had always been that way, without making itself able to be noticed. Cecil’s chest raised and fell, over and over, expelling any gulps of air he attempted to take in. His head lifted off his shoulders. His back was weak. It was suddenly distant, its voice too distant to hear.

He attempted to listen for it, to stand and find the location from which it emanated, but his legs suddenly turned to jelly. He felt the same sensation of falling that had originally nearly taken him away.

Cecil toppled forward, making contact with the glassy surface, the glimmering, reflective cool surface. Instead of air expanding his lungs, it was the liquid. He thrashed, unable to find any surface within his reach. He couldn’t utter a word, let alone scream for help. The thrashing for water hardly made a sound either.

The light shined down on him from above. It was distorted, the same if he were looking down upon it and its reflection from the surface. The coldness of the water stole the heat from his body. The light grew more distant, and his arms ceased their attempts to find the edge of the ground. He relaxed his muscles and let the darkness overcome him.

Cecil’s next breath was ripe with the cloudy smell of the Oxy Foam, its acidic odor sticking to the back of his throat. His body had given up all of its strength, leaving him there at the edge of the pool. The string lights were blurry and eventually disappeared beyond his eyelids.

Cecil

“Cecil.”

He was being shaken awake. The lights remained to illuminate the chamber. Martinez was knelt beside him, his hand shaking at Cecil’s shoulder.

“Sleeping out here on the ground is no good, viste. You should drag a cot out here, at least.”

Cecil sat up. His body and clothes were completely dry, save for the sweat along his neck and down around his collar.

“Hey, are you listening? Maybe you slept-walked? I know it gets hot in the tunnel there. You a warm sleeper?”

Cecil held his face in his hands. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Martinez shrugged and sat back beside Cecil. “What are you apologizing for? The only thing I want from you is your good work. Are you ready to get on it today?”

“Get on… the gearbox.”

Martinez pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand down to Cecil. “Si. We are eating up now before the shift starts. Doesn’t matter if you want to talk and eat with us, I know you. But I figured command would like to see you following the proper schedule.”

Cecil took the Argentinean man’s hand and returned to his feet. He glanced back at the pool, placid and still like many other times. “I… thank you for your consideration.”

Martinez wiped his hand on the sides of his work clothes and shrugged. “Don’t mention it. I know it’s in you, Ruiz, to get that part up to spec.”

---

After the others had finished eating and relieving themselves and chatting amongst each other, they followed Martinez back to the worksite in the other tunnel. Some carried their tools with them, or sections of pipe, or baskets of valves and fittings. Once they were all gone, Cecil faced the gearbox once more.

His hands grasped at the cool metal of the tools and their worn-down and well-used grips, sitting in a neat row in the roll-up carrier. The bearings that held the gear shaft were mounted to the machine frame from underneath, by a pair of bolts that were screwed in from the bottom side. Cecil stood and looked for anything to lift the weight of the device.

The pallet jack and its hydraulic lift point far at the edge of the collection of building materials and supplies would do. The device was able to heft up the section of the machine enough to get underneath. Getting the bottom section of panel off was likely a two-man job, but Cecil recognized he didn’t have such a luxury. The jack would have to do as the second set of hands.

With the great weight lifted, Cecil used the emptied nearby crates to create a safety cushion in the case of the lift failing. With those secure, he laid back and shifted himself underneath, the proper tools resting on his chest.

With all eight of the fasteners loosened, Cecil gave the panel a shove and allowed it to fall. The breath exited his body as its weight landed and pressed against his chest. With what remained of his strength, he shifted it off to the side, allowing him access to the entirety of the gear shaft underneath. The mounts holding the shaft and its bearing in place were visible and workable.

The feeling of the metal against Cecil’s fingers was refreshing. The hard edges were sufficiently rough but free of the burrs and tool marks that would have been the sign of poor workmanship. The blue residue of rubbery thread-locking fluid held the hardware in place, but not against the shifting and cranking of his tools.

When the engine on the Havasu, the patrol ship back on Earth, had made a sound akin to the cracking of a piston arm and killing their power, it was Cecil who had been given priority access to the job. Under the cylinder cover of the one side of the engine was the culprit, the part somewhere in the range of thirty pounds, sheared in half as assumed. Cecil had needed to fit himself nearly inside the crankcase to replace it, but the ship was only out of commission for a single day.

After working his way through the maze of steps, the gear shaft came free from the casing and was dragged out, held across Cecil’s shoulder. The improper fitting was the third gear along the shaft. The gear puller was nowhere to be found, and the proper tool for something of that size and weight was certainly back at the main station, but the replacement part located down there meant that they expected him to complete the job onsite.

The gears were coated in a thick, viscous grease, meant to meet the extreme temperature demands of the task down there. He began to scrape down what bits he could, freeing the necessary parts from their slippery prison. The excess lubrication found itself along the edges of yet another spare crate. With the parts clean enough to be handled, Cecil took to it with the rubber mallet and began to remove the first sets of gears keeping the desired one captive. The sweat gathered on Cecil’s brow as he worked away, hands growing more tired and slippery as the work dragged on.

It was finally time for the proper part to be fitted. It gleamed with unblemished masterwork, but it was destined to be dirtied and put to its long-awaited duty. Placing it on the gear shaft was as tough as unseating the others, but when it was done, it would be there for years, decades perhaps. It, the whole system, was the first step towards a permanent installation down there, and perhaps on the whole planet itself.

“Cecil?”

His eyes darted up, passing the discarded tarp, the fold of tools, and the magnetic tray of parts. One of the other workers was standing in the tunnel, just beside the collection of beds.

“Yes?” He asked, taken aback.

“You know your face is bleeding?”

Cecil brought his hand to his face, dragging across the spot he had assumed was sweat. The grease was stained with both dried and fresh blood. His wrists, fingers, too were coated in the grease but also wracked with fresh cuts, some bleeding while others had been inundated with the thick lubrication.

Cecil glanced back at the parts, half unassembled. The edges of the panels and the teeth of the gears, while finely machined and finished, were still both sharp and heavy. His breath was heavy, arms weak, and face cold. The legs of his coveralls were stained as well, scuffed with grease and his own blood.

“Cecil, were you not paying attention? I should call someone,” the man said, turning back. “Martinez!”

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