Second generation, p.27
Second Generation, page 27
She was only aware that they had crossed the French coastline when the criss-cross of concrete scars reappeared, more widely spaced and softened by new tree growth. Oaks? Sycamores? The ground rose and fell like waves on the sea. Demetria could see hints of another pattern of lines across the ground. Ancient hedgerows perhaps? More hills pitted with the ruins of small towns and overgrown with a fuzz of sap green. Water weaved between them all like silver thread, binding the broken land as if to mend it.
“We’re over the old forests of Normandy,” said Leo. “Looks like some are regrowing. A good place to explore when we return.”
“What’s that?” asked Mishka, her voice trembling.
To their left spread a darkness that seemed to swallow all life and light. The ground sank, scorched and blasted. There was no living thing as far east as their cams could focus. It was as if a celestial giant had gouged the planet, scraping away the detritus of life, the roads, the buildings, the forests, the rivers, the fields and the very mountains that once rose above them all. Right down to the bare rock below.
“The European impact site,” said Leo, his voice flat.
Even though Demetria had seen the void that had once been North America, this somehow felt worse. Perhaps because her family had come from here. Perhaps because she now had a sense of the lush potential of Earth, so the absence of life and all means of supporting it seemed all the more shocking. Like a blackened gun wound blasted through the body of a man still struggling to draw his last breath.
Mishka’s eyes were wide, searching that blackened wasteland for any sign of regrowth. There was none. Demetria could not see Stef’s face, but she pictured her grief.
Eventually mountains rose before them, at the far edge of the recuperating lands beneath. They looked barren. Strangely nude. Demetria realised she was used to seeing vids of snow-capped mountain ranges, but these had no sign of snow, only bare rock.
“The Pyrenees,” said Leo. “That’s the north-east corner of Spain beyond.”
The land on the other side of the mountains was devoid of trees. It looked as if all vegetation had been scraped away so that nothing could ever grow there again. Perhaps not far from the truth. Away to her left, Demetria saw another stretch of water.
“The Mediterranean to the east,” announced Leo. “Now an inland sea, like the Bering.”
Katya veered left, following the north coast of the African continent before turning south again. They flew across a dusty terrain that felt oddly familiar to Demetria. Part sand, part mud, part dry riverbed with rocks scattered along the flow.
“It looks like Mars,” said Demetria.
“It’s the Sahara,” replied Leo. “All those empty riverbeds would have flown with water briefly, after the tsunamis. Now they’re dry again.”
Rusting ships and bleached fish bones dotted the landscape, just as they had seen across parts of America. These became scarcer the further inland they flew. The sea of dust never-ending.
“Is this really like Mars?” asked Mishka.
“A little,” said Demetria. “But the light is different. This land has a blue-grey light filtered by clouds. Mars is bathed in pinks and oranges under a clear terracotta sky. Beautiful, but long dead. Are you sure you want to go there with us?”
“If I’m honest, I’m not sure where I want to be. But I know I could not stay in the village.”
“I feel like we’re showing you an empty world,” she gestured at the barren dunes on the vid screens. “That we took you from the only place where life is restarting.”
“No,” said Chen. “We could see new life in France. There will be other places.”
The journey across central Africa took many hours, despite the speed at which the shuttle flew. Demetria wondered at Chen’s statement because all she could see were the hints that life had once flourished here. It looked as if that life had been burned, drowned and buried beneath mudslides. Vast savannahs had become scoured plains. Dense forests now foetid with decay. She found the view exhausting. Draining. The only thing worse than the absence of life was the reminder it had once been so abundant. But gradually, almost imperceptibly, life did return.
The further south they flew, crossing the equator, past the thickest banks of cloud, the bright green haze of growth returned. They now skimmed the coast of the great continent, following the edges of Angola and Namibia. Daylight was fading. Stars began to slip between the darkening gaps in the clouds. Below the land shimmered with pale light reflected by the moon and Earth’s rings of ice.
“Hey!” exclaimed Mishka, “Lights!”
Everyone leaned forward, zooming in on the darkening lands below with their vid screens. Demetria strained to see what Mishka had seen. “Oh, I see them too!” Hundreds of tiny embers emerged from the darkness of the coasts below. “Could they be campfires?”
“We should land and explore,” said Georgia.
“We will come back,” said Leo.
“Why not now?” argued Georgia. “There must be more survivors. They may need us.”
“We may need them as much as they might need us,” said Leo, “so we will return to them. But not now.”
“Why? To look at a few tracks in the ice at the South Pole?”
“Believe me when I say it is important,” said Leo, turning back to look at Georgia through the connecting doorway. “Trust me.”
Demetria could see Georgia holding his eye then nodding reluctantly. She felt confused. What could be more important than finding survivors? She looked at Mishka who seemed as confused as she was, then at Chen who shrugged his shoulders.
“I suggest we try to sleep,” said Leo. “We’ll be several more hours crossing the sea. It’s night here, but it’ll be getting lighter the further south we go. We have much to do when we arrive.”
Antarctica, Earth – Demetria Philippou
A gentle shuddering of her seat woke Demetria. She prised her eyes open and found the cabin bathed in shafts of sunlight that pierced sideways through the tiny portholes. Mishka was wide awake, watching her world unfold. Beneath them was an expanse of ice; almost the only ice they had so far found on Earth.
“Get ready for landing,” called Katya.
Demetria checked that she and Mishka were buckled in and gripped her hand again. “Ready?” she asked.
Mishka nodded, “But I still don’t understand why we’re landing here.”
“I think only Leo and Hal fully understand,” said Demetria.
“Who’s Hal?”
“Leo’s younger brother. My uncle. He’s at the North Pole on Mars with a team to investigate strange tunnels he found in the ice there. When we flew over Antarctica on arrival, we saw a similar pattern of radial marks in the ice around the South Pole.”
“Made by the same people?”
“I guess that’s what Hal and Leo want to find out.”
Mishka peered at the vid screen. “Are those what you saw?” she asked, pointing at scars in the ice.
“Yes, seven of them, all fanning out from the pole.”
Demetria felt the shuttle bank sharply which pushed her back into the seat.
“On our final approach,” called Katya.
Demetria watched the vid screens. The horizon swung as the shuttle levelled out. Sunlight glittered off the shimmering sheet of ice. As they dropped she saw swirls of powdery snow sliding across the glassy surface. The passage of the wind revealed in serpentine swells. The ground seemed to rush at them in the last few moments and she braced herself moments before she felt a sharp jolt. The shuttle rebounded then hit the ice again. Another jolt, another bound. Then all wheels made contact and the horizon started to slide sideways. The shuttle was spinning. Demetria could just see the back of Katya’s head as she fought the craft, trying to bring it under control. Stef shouted. Katya hit a touchscreen. The craft shuddered again then swung around to face forwards. Gradually they lost momentum and the shuttle slid to a halt.
Demetria fell forward in her seat and breathed out.
Mishka beamed, “That was fun!”
Chen shook his head, “That’s a relief.”
“Are they all like this?” asked Mishka.
“So far,” nodded Demetria. “I’m told they’re not supposed to be quite so suicidally dangerous, but that assumes we have a safe landing strip. Katya’s done well.”
“Any landing’s a good landing if you can walk away from it,” said Stef who had already unbuckled and was striding down the cabin to check on her team. “How’s our newest crew member?” she asked Mishka.
“Good,” Mishka gave a thumbs up.
“She thought it was fun,” said Chen, “wants to do it again.”
“Careful what you wish for,” said Stef continuing down the aisle.
Leo organised the Martians into pairs, four of them with rovers, and one pair on foot. Mishka was not content to watch and asked to come with the walking group.
“It’s cold out,” said Leo.
“I’m Innuit,” said Mishka.
“And you’ve lived your life on a temperate peninsula on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. It’s minus twelve outside.”
Mishka shrugged, “Better wrap up then.”
Leo smiled as he handed her a spare heated EVA suit. It was on the big side. Mishka padded it out with extra layers of her own clothes so she looked like a snowball. She stuck her shortened arms out sideways and grinned.
“We can roll you if you get tired,” giggled Demetria. She was seeing a new side to the young Innuit woman now she had left her village. A sense of fun that been supressed by the grind of survival and grief.
Leo gathered everyone to brief them, “I’ve given each team co-ordinates to explore. Five teams heading for five locations around the South Pole.”
Feng scratched his head, or what little of it showed from his open helmet, “None of these align with the scars in the ice we saw from above.”
“That’s correct,” confirmed Leo.
“Like to enlighten us why?”
“I’d like you to search for anything unusual at the co-ordinates I’ve given you.”
Feng scrutinised the positions, comparing them to an aerial photo of the scar lines they’d already seen, “These co-ordinates are where you’d expect more scar lines to be. You’re looking for more ice tunnels, aren’t you.”
“I’m looking for anything unusual,” repeated Leo, carefully. “Call in if you find something.”
Feng grinned at his friend, “Okay, will do.”
They stepped out onto the ice field. The suits shielded them from the bitter wind, yet it still buffeted them. Demetria guarded her eyes against the glare of the sun off the ice, craning her neck to look around. Nothing but a sharp line where white ice met blue sky. No sign of the mountain ranges they had passed on the way, they must have been far off beyond their horizon.
Leo had put Demetria and Mishka in his walking group and they set off for a mark that had been barely visible from above. Presumably because it still lay mostly below the surface of the ice. The walk was enjoyable to start, a relief from being cramped up in her seat. But it soon became arduous. Leo’s tablet pinged and he stopped to open the comms link. Demetria was relieved to take a break. He looked the message, nodded, typed a quick reply then closed it up and started walking again. Demetria looked at Mishka who shrugged her shoulders and followed.
A second ping gave them a rest about half an hour later, followed quickly by a third. Each time Leo messaged back then carried on, trudging across the barren whiteness.
Demetria was on the verge of having to ask her father if they were nearly there yet, when he raised one hand and pointed with the other. A rim of disturbed ice, partially caved in. Leo took a shovel from his backpack and switched his exoskeleton into overdrive. He dug into the loose ice like a husky dog sensing food, flinging chunks over his shoulder. Demetria felt tired just watching him, yet he appeared a man possessed. Mishka stepped in beside him to help. Demetria pulled out her own shovel. She wasn’t going to let a middle-aged Martian and a young Earthwoman without bionics put her to shame.
They fell into a rhythm. Leo, then Mishka then Demetria, each taking a swipe at the ice in turn. After about an hour they felt the ground before them give way. Leo pushed it out with his shovel and lit his headlamp, peering into the dark hole. Then he stepped back and waved Mishka and Demetria forward. They squeezed through the gap into a space they could stand in comfortably. Lighting her own headlamp, Demetria saw a long smooth tunnel stretch away from them. It was a perfect oval. Leo stepped in behind and pulled out a laser measure to take dimensions.
“Three point four-five metres wide and exactly half that in height,” he said, as if he was expecting it. “Precisely the same size as the tunnels on Mars.”
“Who did this?” asked Mishka.
“That’s what we’re here to work out,” said Leo and started walking down the tunnel.
Demetria could see undulations in the walls like gentle ripples, just like the ones Hal had shown them from the North Pole of Mars. Leo paused to drive a peg into one wave crest he judged to be at its maximum, then walked on to the next where he drove in another peg. He measured the distance between them and nodded.
“Same as on Mars?” asked Demetria.
“Mm,” he confirmed, seemingly lost in thought.
They walked on. The tunnel seemed to stretch for kilometres in a dead straight line, with no sign of change. Leo received another ping. He stopped and opened the link, smiling broadly as he replied.
“What’s with all the messages?” asked Demetria.
“Everyone else is now in or about to enter an ice tunnel,” beamed Leo.
“You were expecting them to find tunnels, just like this one.”
“Yes.”
“So that makes twelve of them, right? Just like on Mars.”
“Yes.”
“You think both sets of twelve tunnels were made by the same people?”
“Seems more likely now, doesn’t it. Come on, we have further to go.”
“How do you know?”
“The truth is, I don’t. But I, or rather Hal’s team, have a hunch.”
Demetria exchanged blank looks with Mishka then followed after Leo. The tunnel continued straight for another quarter of an hour until, abruptly, a chamber opened around them. They stared around the smooth sculpted walls and domed ceiling. Leo placed his laser measure against the wall and fired the beam at the far side. He took several measurements to allow for errors then nodded again.
“Three times the width of the tunnel?” asked Demetria.
“Mm. Exactly.” He pulled out his tablet and checked the GPS function, “And it’s exactly where I expected it to be.”
“What do you mean?” asked Demetria, confused.
“The orientation of this tunnel and the position of its chamber matches its counterpart on Mars,” he explained, then paused, reading his tablet. “So far the others are reporting the same findings in their tunnels.”
“You mean, whoever did this repeated the position of the chambers, for Mars and Earth. They made the same pattern, twelve tunnels each with chambers in identical positions?”
“Seems so.”
Mishka sat down in the middle of the chamber, admiring the domed ice above. “It’s a bit like an igloo,” she smiled, as if unaware of the gravity of the discovery. “Ooh, what’s this?” She brushed away some loose ice to reveal a strange, curved object that glistened like the ice around it.
Leo went down on his hands and knees beside her and took headcam shots before digging around it to reveal its full length. It was shaped like a pickaxe. The head and shaft seemed moulded from one piece of material like lacquered teal. “Similar to what the egg was made from,” he muttered.
“What egg?” asked Mishka.
“Hal’s team found an egg-shaped container on Mars,” said Demetria, wide eyed. “It was full of dead beetles.”
“Weird.”
“The beetles were probably the most straight forward things they found,” said Leo. “But likely a red herring.”
“They found a fish?”
“Figure of speech,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t say as much yet but… well, what the hell,” he shrugged. “The beetles aren’t as old as the tunnels and the egg they found. Hal and Bimpe think they were an indigenous Martian species which crawled into the egg, hatched, found themselves trapped in the caved-in chamber, then started feeding on each other. After several cycles they died out.”
“What’s the significance of the age difference?” asked Demetria.
“The bugs are several thousand years old. Well preserved by the ice. Now that we know what we’re looking for and the kind of subterranean environment they favour, other traces of older extinct colonies have been found in the mines beneath Tithonium, almost always near Einarite. Even under Pavonis. They’re proof that there had been more life on Mars. Einarite wasn’t just a fluke, it was part of a wider ecosystem that had survived and all but died out.”
Demetria fell back against the smooth curved wall of the chamber, “Wow! Mars was alive.”
“Yes it was. Seems life is more common and tenacious than we dared to hope. Mars may well have supported more life when the tunnellers came, about fifty-thousand years ago.”
“The tunnellers.”
“Peter and Jan have been carbon dating the egg container and tiny traces of foreign materials found on the walls of the tunnels, not found anywhere else,” continued Leo. “Thankfully, the egg is part carbon based and whatever the tunnellers used to make the tunnels was probably made from a similar material. It’s getting towards the far end of what they can reliably measure so the dates are a bit woolly but about fifty thousand years ago would be concurrent with early humans on Earth.”
“So who were the tunnellers?” asked Mishka.
“It’s easier to say who they weren’t. The Mars tunnels were made about forty thousand years before people on Earth started building towns and using organised agriculture to feed them, let alone send a ship to Mars. I doubt it could have been humans,” said Leo. “None of us have found any evidence of life more complex than the beetles on Mars so far. We had theories about some natural phenomena or animals making the tunnels, but now…” he trailed off as he frowned at the handle on the shaft of the ice axe Mishka had found.
