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  Alone

  The Mars Diaries, Volume 1

  Skye MacKinnon

  Published by Peryton Press, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  ALONE

  First edition. April 10, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Skye MacKinnon.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Week 1

  Week 2

  Week 3

  Week 4

  Week 5

  Week 6

  Other books by Skye MacKinnon

  About the Author

  To everyone who's helping protect this planet.

  This story is based on the Six Swans by the Brothers Grimm.

  Six brothers have been turned into swans by their stepmother. To free them, their sister Elise must make six shirts out of nettles and can't make a sound for six years or the spell will never be broken.

  The King of another country finds her doing this, is taken by her beauty, and marries her. When Elise, now queen, has given birth to their first child, the King's own wicked mother-in-law takes away the child and accuses the queen of that deed. Unable to defend herself, Elise is sentenced to be burned at the stake as a witch.

  On the day of her execution, she has all but finished making the shirts for her brothers. Only the last shirt misses a left arm. When she is brought to the stake she takes the shirts with her and when she is about to be burned, the six years expire and six swans come flying through the air. She throws the shirts over her brothers and they regain their human form. The youngest brother is left with a wing because she didn't finish the shirt.

  The evil mother-in-law is punished and the king and the queen with her six brothers live many years in happiness and peace.

  Prologue

  It all started with a headache.

  Next came the cramps.

  Then, the pain. Cries and wails filled the station.

  The bloody cough killed most of them.

  The others succumbed to the fever.

  And then, silence.

  I’m the only one left.

  My name is Louise and I’m the last human on Mars.

  Week 1

  There's six of them in the loading bay. They arrived last night and I've been staring at them ever since. Six cryogenic pods, each containing one man. They left Earth before the plague struck the station, and they've been sleeping ever since their rocket took off into space. They don't know what awaits them here. They've missed all the death and pain and heartache. I'm just as jealous as I am happy for them.

  Through the glass window on top of the pods, I can see their faces. The first faces I've seen in two months. That's how long I've been alone now. It feels like an eternity.

  They're all in their early thirties, according to the files that show up on the screens at bottom of their pods. There's a lot of information in those files, hundreds of pages about their lives, their experiences, and their health. Graphs show their vital signs; all steady and normal. For now, they are healthy.

  The people on Earth say that the men can stay in the lifepods for another seven weeks, that's how long the supplies will last. Then I have to let them out and breathe the air of the station. But we don't know if the virus is still here, and we cannot risk them dying. They are my last chance of survival. I won't make it much longer on my own. This station was created to be manned by dozens and I'm struggling to keep up with all the essential tasks.

  A day on Mars, or sol, as we call it, is forty minutes longer than a day on Earth. It took a while to get used to the new rhythm, but now I couldn't do without the extra time. I only sleep for a few hours each night and those are restless and over far too soon. I'm exhausted. There are no weekends or days off; there is nobody else to run the station.

  I shouldn't even be here right now, staring at the new arrivals. The grow pods need weeding and the air filters will be dusty again. The sand storms are frequent this time of year and they plug the filters every second sol. Without the filters working properly, the air turns stale inside the station, so it's one of the most important tasks on my to-do list. But the green houses are just as essential; without them, my food supplies would dwindle fast. Last year, our station became self-sufficient and we no longer rely on supply ships from Earth. That also means that we don't have a lot of food stores as we tried to grow as much as we could ourselves and eat it fresh. Over the past two months, I've eaten a lot of the preserved foods we still had left from our last delivery. They are dwindling fast, so I will have to be able to rely on the plants slowly dying in their pods. And soon, there will be six new mouths to feed.

  I have no idea how this is supposed to work. But I won't give up. I didn't become an astronaut by being weak-minded. And living on Earth wouldn't be much better. From what the people in the command centre tell me, the planet has changed a lot. They call it the Drowning. Sea levels rose without warning and entire cities and countries were flooded. I'm surprised they still sent new settlers to Mars with all what's going on down there, but maybe they see it as a chance to send humanity into space. Keep our species alive.

  Not that Mars could become a permanent home for our people. It's a hostile, dangerous place. We came here for research and to explore the planet's resources, but that task has long been forgotten. I'm busy trying to survive. I miss my work though; the experiments I did in my lab, the breakthroughs I made, the papers I published. I'm a scientist at heart.

  Better get back to work. These men won't go anywhere while I clean the filters. I sigh and leave the loading bay where they will stay until I find a solution to the problem: how to keep them from getting infected.

  Louise>>They're in a stable condition, no change. Any news?

  Control>>Our scientists are working on a solution. They're thinking of creating a vaccine to protect them from contracting the virus.

  Louise>>But there isn't time to send a vaccine from Earth to Mars.

  Control>>They'd give you instructions to produce it yourself.

  Louise>>Are you kidding me? I don't have the supplies or experience. I'm a geologist, not a doctor.

  Control>>There will be detailed instructions and we'll adjust them to only take into account the tools you have in your medical lab. Hopefully you still have antibodies in your blood that can be used for the vaccine.

  Louise>>You want me to inject my blood into them?

  Control>>Simply put, yes.

  Louise>>Fuck you.

  I THINK BASTIAN IS my favourite. He's called Sebastian but I imagine him having a nickname. From his file, it sounds like he was popular on Earth. A rugby player, a fighter jet pilot, then an astronaut. He's been in space several times, but he's never set foot on another planet. I hope he's going to get that opportunity soon. One week has already passed since they arrived and we're still no closer to a solution. There are scientists working on it on Earth, but they're going to have to relocate soon because of the Drowning, which will delay everything even further.

  A stray lock of dark brown hair is lying on Bastian's cheek and like every day, I'm tempted to brush it away, but there's no way I can do that. The cryogenic pods are sealed until we have that vaccine. It bothers me though. He looks so perfect except for that one strand of hair. It draws my eyes away from his slightly curved mouth and his angular jaw. Just like the other five, he's got the beginnings of a beard, but for now, it's not much more than a five o'clock shadow. The substances they were injected with before the launch slowed down their bodies so much that they're in complete stasis. When I underwent the same procedure, they explained it to me like hibernation. I was going to be alive, but wouldn't need food or water to sustain
myself. When I woke up months later, I had to cut my fingernails, but that was about it. Before the Drowning, Earth's scientists really made amazing advances, enabling us to explore the universe. Now, they're lucky if they manage to survive.

  The people at ground control are refusing to show me footage of what's happening on Earth. Too distracting, they say. They're probably right, but that doesn't mean that they don't piss me off with their refusal to be honest with me. It would likely be different had I family left there, but the fact that I don't made me such a good candidate for becoming a Mars settler. No attachments, no baggage.

  I force myself to move on to the next cocoon, leaving Bastian and his stray lock of hair behind. It's become my routine: staring at each of the six men for a while, familiarising myself with their file and their features. Once they finally wake up, I'll know them a little already. Just like they will already know me. As soon as I signed the settler contract, my life became public knowledge. They will have been able to look through footage of me as a baby, read my school reports and even examine my medical tests.

  To not stand at a disadvantage, I'm now taking the time to read their files. With six new guys on the station who already know each other, I don't want to be the odd one out. I outrank them all, at least in terms of experience.

  Next to Bastian lies Jim, the oldest of them all. He's got close cropped black hair and a thin scar running along his cheek, ending just above his left nostril. According to his file, he got it in a car accident when he was a boy. It left him an orphan, just like three of the others. They mainly send people with no family up here. A planet of broken people, Joanna called it when she was still alive. I shake my head, driving out the ghosts of the recent past. There's no time for memories of the people who filled the station's corridors only months ago. I have new settlers to focus on.

  Tobias is the third man and the most athletic, as far as I can tell. All of them are fit; they have to be to survive here. Only the strongest get sent to Mars, although strength isn't always measured in muscles. I'm the best example for that - I was chosen based on my academic achievements, not on my physical. Still, I had to go through two years of training and exercise and still have the muscles to prove it.

  Toby, that's what I've started to call him, has blond hair with light brown highlights. I've been trying to figure out if they're natural or dyed ever since I first saw him. It's driving me crazy not to know. It's a surreal situation, having people around but not being able to talk to them. They're only half alive, in a way, and I could just as well be mute. There's nobody to talk to. Even my conversations with ground control are text based now, after some of their equipment broke. With the floods affecting most of the power stations built close to the sea, Earth is starting to have major outages. Spending all that extra energy on having a visual link with one lone Martian settler just isn't worth it.

  The communicator in my breast pocket vibrates. Just when I was thinking of ground control...

  Control>>How are you?

  Louise>>Good joke. Could do with a break.

  Control>>Believe me, so could we. Another space port was flooded this week. But we have good news for you. We think we have found a solution.

  Louise>>For which one of all my problems.

  Control>>Sending attachment now. Our scientists have written instructions for you to make a vaccine. Everything you need should be in the station, although you may have to repurpose some tools.

  Louise>>How long will it take to make?

  Control>>It depends on how much time you can spare from your daily tasks. A few days, perhaps.

  Louise>>Is it safe?

  Control>>

  Louise>>So it isn’t?

  Control>>76%. But it’s better than the alternative.

  Louise>>Fuck you.

  “THEY WANT ME TO MAKE a vaccine,” I tell Will. He’s the best listener of the six. Of course, none of them can hear what I’m saying, but his face makes him look like a nice guy. Someone who would listen and then give advice, or a hug. “But they don’t know if it’s safe. It goes against my morals to make something that could hurt you. But they’re right, if I don’t give it to you, you may all die anyway.” I run my hand through my long hair. I stopped dyeing it months ago, it wasn’t worth the effort, but the ends are still an orangey red. My own brown colour is shining through more strongly now; maybe I should cut off the ends to have a uniform colour. When the men wake up, I might want to look a little more presentable than now. I look down on myself. My clothes are dirty and tattered, my hands are stained with black machine oil from the maintenance I did earlier and my shoes are covered in red Mars dust. I’ve had other priorities than worrying about my looks. And that won’t change any time soon. Even when the men wake up, they’ll need time to adjust to life on the station. They won’t be able to carry their weight immediately, and I’ll have to teach them a lot. Three of them are scientists, one is a mechanic, one a cook and Han is a doctor.

  I step to Han’s pod. He’s the only Asian among the six. According to his file he was born in China but was adopted and grew up in Belgium, one of the countries that are pretty much gone now. I wonder if he lost any family in the Drowning. I’ll have to find a good moment to tell them about what transpired on Earth while they were asleep. It’s been hard for me to accept and I’ve been given updates about it at least once a week – it will be terrible for them. If I was them, I’d think the person telling them was crazy. Maybe I should let them get to know me first before I drop that bombshell on them.

  I sigh and walk to the final pod. Jordan. At first glance, he looks a little dangerous with his shaved head and the tribal tattoos around his ears. They disappear behind his head and I wonder where they end. His dark skin stands out in the pale light of the lifepod. No idea why they spend energy on keeping a light on, it’s not as if the men in the cocoons would notice. They’re as fast asleep as anyone can be.

  Jordan doesn’t look like a scientist, but looks can be deceiving. He’s got three PhDs and a long list of publications under his name and is probably the cleverest of them all. Me included. I’m looking forward to having some long talks with him. I’ve missed having stimulating conversations with others. No matter how much I play devil’s advocate with myself, it’s just not the same. Arguing with myself is no fun in the long run.

  I wave them goodbye and leave the loading bay. I’ve not seen any point in spending time in moving them somewhere else. They won’t know where they are anyway.

  Week 2

  “Hey Bastian. It didn’t work and now I have to wait at least another week for them to figure out what went wrong.”

  I lean onto the pod and look at his pretty sleeping face.

  “The pH was too acidic and it would have killed you as soon as I’d injected it. Now we’re back to the drawing board and with one of their labs destroyed, it’s going to take them even longer to come up with a solution.”

  I draw a finger over the glass as if to remove the stray lock of hair from his face. It’s still irritating me.

  “Why couldn’t you brush your hair before you went to sleep?” I ask him sternly. “Now I have to fight the temptation to open your pod whenever I look at you.” I smile. “And I like looking at you. I like looking at you all. The more I look at you, the more it feels like I know you. By the time you wake up, we’ll be friends.”

  I press a soft kiss on the glass and move on to Jim. He’s one of the scientists but his file isn’t very forthcoming with what he’s specialising in. I assume it’s something classified, but not knowing make me jittery. I want to get to know them all, learn anything about them I can find, and more. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with them and I don’t like surprises.

  I stare at his scar, wondering if it will move when he talks. Does it hurt? Probably not, the scar tissue isn’t very thick and he got it over two decades ago. It takes away the symmetry of his otherwise flawless face, but it’s not as irritating as Bastian’s hair. Jim can’t do anything about his scar, i
t’s part of him.

  “What kind of research do you do?” I ask him, calling up his file again. “Why doesn’t it say? What is so special about it? Will it be a danger to the station? Is it still relevant now that the Drowning has happened? People on Earth are no longer interested in science, all they want to do is survive. Unless you do climate science, they probably won’t care. Will that disappoint you? Will you be able to adapt?”

  I search his face for any sign that he can hear me. It’s silly, I know he’s in a coma. I think I may slowly be losing my mind. It's probably time.

  I should probably get some sleep, but instead I stay in the loading bay, staring at the six men.

  Toby is a cook, but you wouldn't guess that from his slender frame. Not slender, really, just not big. I imagine cooks as having a large belly, rosy cheeks and not much hair. Total stereotype. In contrast, Toby looks more like an athlete, someone who runs marathons, not like someone who stands in a kitchen all day. I hope he's a good cook. My meals have consisted of quickly boiled vegetables from our green houses, devoured quickly while already rushing to the next task. I've not had time to sit down for dinner in ages. Hopefully that will change soon, once they're awake. We can all sit together, talk, enjoy the food that Toby has made for us. It will feel like life again, not like this strange existence I'm currently leading.

  My stomach growls and reminds me to leave the men and get some sustenance. Then the filters need cleaning again, and I should go outside to check on the sensors. We had a massive sandstorm last night and I'm worried that some of the sensors and cameras we have on the perimeter around the station may have been damaged. One of the cameras has always been malfunctioning slightly, but right now it's showing more static than it usually does. Hopefully it's a quick fix and not something that needs technical skills. It's really not my forte.