“I cannot and will not commandeer Noema’s craft and impact it against Ganymed. If it wasn’t for Noema I would have had no hesitation, but we know what will happen to her in consequence. I’ve already messaged Cloe on this, and I can only reaffirm what I said to her.
“I appeal to you to go easy on Cloe. She has been through a very hard time. Nothing she can say will change my decision so there is no point using her family to put pressure on her. It’s time to stop playing games.
“Noema does not wish to make another AV and I respect her decision. I’ll make a fuller report of my second visit to her craft later. That’s all for now.”
I hit the Stop button. Whilst attaching the AV for transmission I typed a quick covering note to Cloe: She doesn’t know staying here would kill her. I don’t want her to find out. I then activated the comm link, transmitted the recording with its message and deleted the latter from the Sent folder. I then deleted the previous message I had sent to Cloe.
I rose from the comm station. “It’s done.”
“Good.”
I joined her at the table.
“How long you stay?” she asked.
“It depends on what Mission decides to do with Cloe. She must leave at the time of optimal alignment between Earth and Mars in three weeks or she won’t be able to return to Earth at all. But then she’ll just be joining Ganymed. She’ll live longer if she stays near Mars.” I rubbed my cheek. “Years, if everything keeps working. She has six months’ supplies for a crew of five.”
“You stay here for years?”
I wanted to tell her that staying years would mean death, but could not. She must not know that I had returned to her only because of that fact. “No. I’ll stay a couple of weeks after you’ve returned to the worm. After that I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead....need to know what Cloe will do.”
“You must know when she will die.”
I studied the tabletop surface then arose. “Get some food,” I mumbled and moved across to the kitchenette.
The Hab was becoming claustrophobic. I wanted to leave with Noema, return to the worm that was my home, where we could breathe, begin to live again. Until Cloe was gone our lives were on hold. Cloe, why did you not come? Why did I not remember the radiation earlier? We would have all been together now, at peace, mourning the loss of the human race but without tormenting ourselves. I would have to tell Noema the truth. I was prepared to let her be taken back to Earth and become a guinea pig in a cage if that was the only way I could save the others. Would I lose her love if I told her? I could not bear the thought.
The hours passed. Our conversation was fitful and intermittent. A reserve had fallen between us, as if something hung in the air that could not be said but remained in our minds when we tried to speak of anything else. Noema sat by the window, silent, or lay on her bunk as if asleep. After one or two attempts I gave up trying to start a general discussion with her. It did not even cross my mind to resume showing her more of the Hab’s workings.
The sun was low in the evening sky when the comm link beeped. I strode over to the console and switched on the mike. Cloe’s face appeared on the monitor.
“Yes Cloe.”
“I have an AV from Trinny.” She glanced behind me and gave a quick thumbs up. Good, nothing that Noema would find damning.
“OK, send it. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Trinny sent me an AV too. I think the chain is off him now. He was....kind. Considerate. It seems they finally understand....they’ve given me control of the Terra Nova.”
“They have?”
“Yes. The passwords came with the transmission.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes....good news. I’ll send you your AV now.”
“Thanks Cloe. Talk soon.”
“Sure Jason.”
I waited a few minutes whilst the AV downloaded from the Terra Nova. I turned to Noema. “We’ve won.”
She glanced across at me.
“The reply from Earth. Come and see it.”
She left the table and came over, standing behind me. “Show.”
I pushed Play. Trinny’s face appeared. His shirt was rumpled and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for a while. For a few moments he did not look at the camera, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Fine. Games are over as you put it. We had to try everything. I think you understand. A few here wanted to keep it up. I told them to back off or go get me fired. I convinced the President changing your mind was hopeless so I’m still Director. The place is pretty empty right now by the way. Near midnight. Just a couple of techs here. I gave everyone else the night off.”
He paused, as if recalling something. “We asked too much of you Jason. I worry about the big picture. Your job is to think of your crew. Individuals. But the big picture’s not bigger than any individual. That’s your perspective and I can respect it. I want you to know I don’t hold you responsible for not doing as we asked.
“Go with Noema and be happy. Give us your report and tell Noema we would appreciate hearing from her. I’m not religious but plenty are and it helps. Once you get to my age you take death in your stride. But there are others that need....assurance, I suppose, some kind of hope so they can handle it when it comes.
“Don’t worry about Cloe. I’ve spoken to her. Her parents understand. So does her sister. They’ll be speaking to her. We’ve unblocked the navigation and drive controls on the Terra Nova. She’s free to do whatever she wants.”
He hesitated, as if wanting to say something else, then leaned forward, his hand extended beyond the screen. The monitor turned black. We were silent for what seemed a long time. Finally I spoke. “He came through.”
“He is not bad man.”
“No. He’s not.”
“What you do now?”
“I don’t know. Wait a while until Cloe’s heard from her family. Then talk to her about her coming to us. Also do up that report. Do you want to do it with me?”
“No. I can do report later. Plenty of time. For now I go.”
I glanced at her. “Go? Now?”
“Yes. You not need me here. I am tired to be in this place. Better I go to my home. I can come back when you say, give report then.”
“Perhaps that’s the best thing. It’s too late now. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you to the pod.”
Noema returned to the table. “Yes. You take me tomorrow.”
Maybe it was the time our minds had spent fused together in the worm, or maybe just what we had been through during the last few days—I didn’t know, but felt with growing unease that Noema was somehow aware of my secret. When she saw my thoughts again in the worm she would know everything and I wanted to tell her before that point, but I did not know the right way to do it. As I turned over in my mind when and how I would come clean I did not for a moment suspect what was so obvious to see.
We were finishing a supper consisting of chopped pork, eggs and beans when Noema broached the subject.
“What you think to do is very foolish.”
I glanced up sharply. “What?”
“Take worm to Ganymed. You cannot make worm do this. When it know you make it die it push you out its mind. Never let you in again. Only if you are with worm many years will it do such a thing. Worm must know you, love you more than life.”
“Could I have regained the worm’s trust afterwards?”
“After it think you try to harm it? Never. When you leave room it never open door for you again. Rest of your life you cannot speak to it. You live alone in forest. Nothing you can do.”
“Then thank God I didn’t do it.”
“Yes. An show you it is wrong path. You listen. Now you can have peace.”
I leaned across and took her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”
She looked at me, looked at my hand, and gripped my fingers with a strength I could hardly have believed possible. I gasped in pain. She relaxed her hold.
“I am sorry....forgive me....”
“Nothing to forgive.”
She turned away from me. “I forget strength of my people.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing broken.”
We sat in silence for several moments.
“You have more dreams?”
“No. Not since that one with the two suns.”
“It is same voice who tell me I shall know what is after death. What I show you when we are together in worm. I dream many times. Dream of worlds I have never seen, and those who come to them. So many come. They are with An. They have done what An give them to do when they have their bodies. Dreams that give me joy and also sadness, for I not know why I live, what I must do. For you same thing. All you do go wrong. You cannot save anyone. Cannot save your friends, your people. This is sad. But you do one good thing and day come when you will know it. Then I think your joy greater than your sadness.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Later you will.”
“All right. Later then. I’m in no hurry.”
I lay on my bunk in the darkness, turning Noema’s strange words over in my mind. I looked across in the dimness at her form lying supine on the opposite bunk, perhaps already asleep. I called softly:
“Noema.”
“Yes.”
“What is the good thing I have done?”
“Cannot tell now. You know afterwards.”
“I have something to tell you too. I want us to be again as we were. When we hid nothing from each other.”
“I wish it too.”
“Then sleep well.”
She did not reply.
It was morning. After a brief breakfast we prepared for our journey to the pod. Whilst I sat at the table in my suit slowly breathing pure oxygen to flush the nitrogen from my blood Noema put on her biosuit in the airlock. After half an hour I was ready. I joined her and raised my hand to push the Depressurize switch, then paused. I removed my helmet. Noema’s green alienlike head looked at me for a moment then her hand touched a spot near her ear. The head split down the middle and rolled back, revealing her face.
“Just want to say goodbye.”
She smiled. “Goodbye.”
“Till we meet again.”
“If An will it.” She touched the side of her head and the biosuit closed up again. I reattached my helmet and hit the switch.
The morning light was dim but adequate to drive by. Noema had wanted to leave early and I was happy to accommodate her. The sun had emerged above the canyon walls, its small disc shining thinly through the motionless brown haze. For a few more weeks the dust storm would supply protection against any short term effects from solar flares or background Gamma particles, but I had no idea how effective that protection was. Women are far more susceptible to radiation poisoning than men and I didn’t want Noema staying a minute longer than necessary. I decided I would tell her the true situation as soon as she returned a few days hence. Cloe would have brought the Terra Nova back to Deimos and we could all quit Mars for good.
Mars, like Earth, revealed its greatest beauty at the moment of sunrise, its hard light softened by refraction through the tenuous atmosphere, making its landscape almost earthlike. The beauty had struck me when I first set foot on it and it struck me now, but the wonder had become familiar. I knew this world and I was ready to leave it. I glanced across at Noema. Don’t stay away too long. I’ll miss you like hell.
We cleared the rise and saw the pod in the distance. Thousands of kilometres above the worm waited, a small white point of light in the fading starry expanse. When I returned to it I would not leave again except to descend years hence to the frozen arctic wasteland that would be the Earth. Despite NASA’s pessimism I still let myself harbour a secret hope we would find enough survivors to perpetuate humanity. Just a couple of hundred to keep the gene pool healthy, brought up to the worm slowly, one by one, over the years, so that a stable community could be created. People would survive on Earth long enough for us to complete the job. When it came to survival there was nothing more tenacious and resourceful than humans. It was just cold after all.
We had arrived. I descended from the rover and took Noema’s green-covered hands in my gloves. She squeezed them, gently this time, then turned and walked to the unfurled leaves of the pod. Up by the chair she turned back towards me. I raised a hand. Till we meet again, if An will it. If An will it. The words Harran had said when the wall of fire divided them, his last words before he parted from her to die.
“God no.” I stumbled towards the pod, my arms raised to stop her. “No.”
She sat down on the chair. The innermost leaves shivered and rolled upwards. As I reached the outermost leaves they jerked their points from the ground and curled up to reform the irregular oval shape of the sealed pod. I banged my fists on the mottled green wall. “No. Don’t.” For a second the pod was motionless, then rasped roughly upwards past my gloves. In a few moments it was ten metres above, then twenty, then fifty, then it was a shrinking dot of green, disappearing into the brown-black sea of darkness.
I stood a long time, not moving, before falling forwards, my hands and knees in the grit and dust, my visor obscured by sobbing as anguish tore through me.
32. My memories of the rest of that day are vague. I don’t know how long I stood near the rover until finally I returned to the Hab because there was nowhere else for me to go. In the Hab I sat on the floor, my back against Noema’s bunk whilst my mind longed, begged for just one chance, a minute, a few seconds, to tell her the words that would free us both from what she had left to do. I prayed as I had prayed by the lakeshore when there was nothing else for me to do, but this time there was no answer, no sense of a comforting presence. I prayed to the void and the void remained mute.
I hardly noticed the pinging of the comm speaker. It was hours later—some time around midday I think—that, numb from grief, I became dimly aware Cloe was trying to contact me. I rose wearily from the floor, slumped into the comm station chair and pushed on the mike switch. Cloe’s anxious face appeared.
“Jason, what’s wrong?”
“Hab’s fine.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
I didn’t want to talk. “Speak to you later Cloe.”
“What’s happened?”
“She’s gone.”
Cloe looked blankly at me.
“She’s taking the worm to Ganymed. She doesn’t know I can’t survive....talk later.” With that I killed the link.
It was late afternoon when the comm speaker started pinging again. I ignored it for a while. You’ll all be fine. She’s going to die. I’m going to die. Leave me alone. Eventually I summoned the will to sit in front of the monitor. As Cloe’s face appeared I felt a hint of comfort, a break from the despair, now leaden, now desperate, that had filled my mind all that day.
Her voice was gentle. “Jason?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah I’m sure. It was obvious. I just didn’t see it. She made it clear in the end. She sat on the pod’s chair when I tried to stop her. That closed it up.”
Cloe paused before speaking. “It’s still half a day before she reaches the worm. If she’s goes to Ganymed there’s no reason for her to wait. She’ll leave orbit right away. I’ll tell you if she goes.”
“Did you tell Trinny?”
“I told him.”
“Have they broken open the champagne?”
“....please Jason.”
“They’re saved. You’re saved. Everybody’s saved. No reason why they shouldn’t.”
Cloe lowered her head, her eyes lined with tears.
“I’m screwed but that’s not a problem since I didn’t sacrifice my life like I was supposed to. I get what I deserve.”
She didn’t answer, just turned away from me.
I looked at her, then made a conscious effort to quell the bitter anger boiling within me. “Don’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s OK.”
“Nothing’s OK, but you don’t deserve it.” I paused a moment. “I’ve been raised up then slammed down. I’ve waited my whole life for one thing, found it, lost everything else but that didn’t matter, then lost the one thing that does matter. I can hardly bear to live. And knowing I’m not going to survive....I can’t go back to Earth and try to put my life back together again....it makes no sense to live, you understand?”
“I understand.”
“I’m so tempted to end it now. All this....pain....then radiation sickness, then death. That’s all there’s left for me. And her, oh Cloe, I can’t bear the thought of her dying. When she takes the worm to Ganymed don’t tell me.”
“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
“No....no. No more lying. Tell me the truth whatever she does. I’ll know anyway.”
“I think that’s better.”
I wanted to end the conversation but one more thought came to me.
“Cloe?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I never asked you.”
“What?”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I’m not sure. I think not.”
“I always have, but I’ve never been pushed to disbelieve in him until now. As a believer I can rationalise everything that’s happened. There’s no other way Earth could have been saved. But something inside me keeps saying this is too wrong to be right.”
“Like Jesus dying on a cross? I always thought that was too much.”
“Yeah, like that....exactly like that. Signing off now. I’ll be in touch.”
“Sure Jason.”
As Cloe’s face disappeared her words remained in my mind. Like Jesus dying on a cross. I thought to dismiss them but did not. Dying on a cross. Fragments of words heard in a long-forgotten childhood surfaced in my memory: My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?....Father forgive them for they do not know what they do....My soul is in anguish even unto death....Have I been so long with you, and yet you have not come to know Me? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in me?....He who sees me sees the Father....I and the father are one....Truly, truly I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.
I am, and I have endured what you endure.
Imperceptibly, like a whisper in a fading storm, I felt, as I had felt before, that I was not alone. The dead weight of despair loosened from my heart and a sense filtered in of life creeping back, like capillaries drawing water from the ground. I did not move lest I lose sight of that presence within me. Do not leave me alone. There is nothing else. Abide with me.
I’m not sure how much time passed. Slowly, as if my body was made of fragile china, I rose up and made my way across to the kitchenette. It was time I ate something. That was normal and right. I would not plan anything, just take each minute one at a time. I made soup and carried it with some dried fruit and a cup of coffee to the table. As I sat eating with careful, deliberate movements, I thought of nothing but the presence which supported me as a mother carries a wounded child. No more plans, no more hopes, no more desires even, just remaining with the one who remained with me.
I had no inclination to speak with Cloe, not out of aversion, but because it was absolutely essential I remain alone. I wrote her a short message: Cloe, I’ll be OK. Thanks for all you’ve done. Contact you tomorrow. It didn’t cross my mind for an instant to send a message to Trinny. He already knew all he needed to know. For the first time in a long time he could sleep easy.
It was whilst I was lying on my bunk that night, the light extinguished, that another fragment surfaced from the Sunday school classes of so long ago. If this cup cannot pass me by but I must drink it, your will be done. Your will be done. All that had happened had led me to this point, here alone on a planet far from Earth. Your will be done. I could say it and accept it and be at peace. The past was gone. There was no future. Only the present remained. Your will be done. The words lingered in my mind as I closed my eyes and slipped into a dreamless, untroubled sleep.
33. The pain at losing Noema did not magically disappear. I had bound my heart to her and it had been ripped out of my chest. It left an emptiness, an aimlessness, and a constant longing that even now has not faded.
Cloe told me the details. Noema timed her impact with Ganymed perfectly, when the Terra Nova and the Hab were on the far side of Mars and the planet acted as a shield against the inconceivably enormous explosion. Reports from Earth said the night sky was turned into day by a second sun. They also said that the worm accelerated steadily from the moment it left Mars, reaching an insane speed as it smashed into the asteroid, blasting it into gas with an energy many times greater than the core of the greatest star.
As I read the transcripts I could visualise the worm’s last moments, fearful as its mistress urged it on. Come with me, come with me, come with me, keeping it close so its love for her would overcome its instinct for self-preservation. I saw Noema, her body tense as she sat alone whilst the mass of Ganymed grew before her eyes, quelling her own fear, an immortal’s fear of death no mortal could comprehend, because this is what she had been born for and had lived endless ages to accomplish. And then the moment of impact that crushed her body and the worm’s mind before ramming the great pillar of light into the sphere of ten thousand tons of antimatter. And then a vast sea of pure radiation, hotter than the universe at its birth, unmaking the asteroid in an instant.
Earth was saved, but it mattered little to me. What it did with its new lease of life was its own problem.
For the first few months there was talk of sending a supply ship and a rescue ship after that but I never really took it seriously. I was not popular at NASA, even less once I sent them my report. It was bad enough encountering someone who claimed to have known Adam and had lived long enough for the claim to be tenable, but an astronaut who described disembodied human souls wandering amongst the stars was altogether too much. Trinny was blunt about it: I had been certified as psychologically unstable. The death of my wife had created in me a wish fulfilment impulse that projected itself whilst in contact with the worm’s mind—itself evidently a hallucinatory experience. Framed in these terms, the disinfected report was released for public consumption. Opinion on it was divided.
“You seemed to have polarised attitudes towards religion,” Trinny said in one of his AV messages. “Up until now religious types were quietly being herded into a social ghetto. Now there’s been a reaction. A lot of people have become religious and they don’t like being marginalised. There’s even been a bill in the Senate to have ‘In God We Trust’ reinstated as the official motto of the US. Quite a few public demonstrations and some ugly scenes when counter-demonstations also showed up. It’s big news.”
I was initially surprised at his candour until I realised that his messages were seen by me alone. I also realised that there would be no attempt to bring me back to Earth. Trinny eventually confirmed it.
“Even if you survive three years the economy has gone into a major nosedive. There just isn’t the commitment to fund a programme that in all likelihood will be a failure. I wish I could give you better news but those are the facts.”
Hearing the definitive confirmation of what I had already known was something of a shock, but one I soon got over. Death somehow didn’t bother me so much any more. When the last fragment of hope vanished my mind came to terms with the truth. I accepted it and got on with the daily business of living. I continued with the routine of experiments that remained to be done after the discovery of subterranean water.
From the scientific point of view the mission was an unqualified success since I could spend months gathering data that in the original timeframe had been limited to weeks. I took the rover out for extended trips, collecting soil and rock samples from every spot within range that appeared interesting in the photos sent back to Earth by the Orbiter satellite. One day, decades hence, a new mission might be sent to retrieve the samples neatly packed and labelled in rows under the Hab.
Cloe and I spoke in real time for as long as possible. Two weeks after the destruction of Ganymed the Terra Nova began its return trip to Earth. For several weeks after that we continued talking, adjusting ourselves to the increasing time lag until it became too much and we switched to recorded messages. I remember one conversation, soon after the Terra Nova had left Mars orbit.
“What will you do when you get back?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean will you stay with NASA?”
There was a pause much longer than a simple lag.
“I’ve thought about it. Trinny tells me they’ve put together a commission on me but he’s quite confident I won’t be dismissed. I think I’ll stay.”
“Why?”
“Because....it’s what I do. I’m good at it and I’ll have more experience than anyone else. I don’t feel like doing anything different.”
“I understand. So no plans to settle down.”
“You mean get married again? No. One disaster is enough and I’ve lost my second chance. Anyone else would be a disappointment. It wouldn’t be fair on him.”
It took me a while to work out what she meant.
The possibility of a supply ship was scotched after my first bout of nausea. There wasn’t much I could do about it except pay increasingly frequent visits to the Hab’s toilet cubicle. I dread it now. Waking up in the middle of the night with just enough time to reach the bowl before heaving my guts out, dry retching long after my stomach had emptied itself, lying on the floor afterwards, utterly exhausted. Trinny never admitted it but I suspect I was hit by at least one sizeable solar flare. It takes longer than a few months for background Cosmic radiation to break down cellular structure. Several weeks’ documentation of the symptoms convinced the medical specialists at NASA that I would certainly be dead before my current supply of food ran out. A press communiqué kept open the option of sending supplies should my condition improve. I paid no attention to it.
As I write this I feel weak and very tired but I still have the strength to perform basic functions though I’ve long since given up the surface expeditions. The geologists are welcome to spend their lives drooling over the rocks when they finally get brought back to Earth, but everyone else can take it from me: Mars sucks.
Once the nausea curtailed outdoor activities—I had no desire to vomit into my helmet—I decided that writing was the best way to pass the time. It seems I’m good at a handy turn of phrase, at least in Cloe’s opinion, and she’s spent the last few weeks helping me tidy up my manuscript. It was originally meant to be a straightforward diary of events, but I abandoned the diary format when I decided I wanted to do more than just put down the facts in chronological order. It’s nearly finished. When it’s done I’ll transmit it to the Orbiter to relay to Earth.
Despite my illness I am at peace, well, most of the time at least. The presence I felt after Cloe’s words turned my despair on its head has never left me though it has faded when I let myself get too preoccupied with incidental things and neglected to pray. But it’s been a while since I had any reason to neglect prayer. I read the Bible, especially the Gospels, but no other religious writings. I have absolutely no desire to wander into the denominations jungle. Back on Earth it might have been different, but now something tells me to keep it very basic. Time is too short, I’m alone, and I sense instinctively that my path must be a very simple one. I will soon be dead.
What did Domingo call it? A doorway. Once I’m through it I will see Noema’s God as he is, then wander the universe with her, marvelling at the beauty he has created, so vast, so endless, because we have all eternity to explore it. Can’t wait, my love. How I do miss you.
Retrieved from Mars Habitat hard drive: 21-11-2063
This is on the spur of the moment. I have little time. I won’t be dying from radiation poisoning or starvation after all. The reactor cooling system failed. Mission’s theory is the increased temperature and rate of flow of the lithium corroded the inner surface of the tantalum-tungsten alloy that would have held up fine in normal conditions. A leak developed in the network of pipes running through the good vane outside the Shirase. By the time I reached it lithium was running over the vane surface. The vane was ruined. Nothing I could do except shut down the reactor. I should have had twenty-four hours battery life after that but the batteries are old now and don’t recharge as well. I have about eighteen.
10.22. You can think about death every day of your life and still feel panic when the moment comes, when you know this is it. I wasted a lot of time trying to find a way around the cooling problem, and Mission wasted more of my time trying to think of something at their end. It’s over now. I’m OK with it. As soon as the batteries fail I’ll take a big dose of sleeping tablets and go lie on my bunk. Not enough to kill me since suicide is wrong, but enough to put me in a coma. When the cold freezes my body I won’t know it.
Strange really. I should feel afraid but I don’t. A kind of calm and a slight excitement. I sense God is here, stronger than ever before. Seems he intends to carry me right through it. I’m grateful for that.
12.53. Battery power on red. Maybe only minutes left. I’m thinking of Noema. One thing in particular. She said there was something she wanted to show me. Like but unlike what I had seen in the worm. Something that would fill the heart. I wonder what it was. Funny it should bother me now. I suppose I just want all the loose ends tied up. I’ll find out soon enough anyhow.
1.07. I’m a fool. Can only be one thing. There in front of my eyes all the time. Cloe said I couldn’t see past my nose. No point writing it here. Nobody would believe me. But if Noema saw it then everybody else will. We have an extension only. We don’t have forever.
Just remembered the Gotti movie, saw it years ago. Dellacroce’s last words to Gotti: This whole thing lasts only five minu