Ares

By johnnedwill

That night Amanda Grayson dreamed.

She dreamt that she was on the Martian surface, running through the splendid desolation. Each step propelled her into the cold, thin air; leaving behind puffs of red dust that drifted lazily in the feeble grip of the world's gravity. In the distance, she saw the glowing form of the goddess - arms outstretched in welcome.

Amanda stopped. "Have I done well?" Her voice sounded hollow in the confines of her helmet.

The goddess pointed back the way she had come. Amanda's footprints were filled with the green sprouts of new life. "You have, my child," the goddess said. Somehow her voice penetrated the suit's protective barriers. "Be proud. But there is still more to do."

"What? Tell me," Amanda demanded. "I have done everything you've asked; I've given everything I have."

The goddess shook her head. "No, my child. Not everything." She bent close to Amanda and lifted the helmet of her suit from its seals. Amanda squirmed and tried to protest, to push the goddess away, but she was not strong enough. She felt the air in her lungs sucked away by the thin Martian atmosphere. She felt her blood begin to boil and - !

Amanda Grayson jerked upright, suddenly awake and gasping for breath. The air of Mars Base - redolent with the tang of metal and the musk of a hundred human beings - tasted good. Amanda laid back, her head resting against the side of her sleep rack, just underneath the air conditioning nozzle, enjoying the sensation of the breeze against her skin.

"Doctor?" A pale hand gripped the edge of the privacy curtain, and an oval face peered in. "are you alright? I thought I heard you - ?"

Doctor Grayson forced a weary smile. "I'm fine, Jenks," she said. "Just a dream. That's all."

Natalya Jenkins - 'Jenks' as the inhabitants of Mars Base had called her - nodded. "I know what you mean. I get them too. Coffin dreams. Where everything closes in on you." Her face vanished from the gap in the curtain, only to reappear a moment later. "The doc gave me these, to help me sleep." She held out a foil bubble pack.

Amanda shook her head. "No. Thank you. What time is it?"

Jenks glanced back over her shoulder. "Almost zero-six airy."

Grayson unclipped the covers from her bunk and slid her legs around, before dropping to the floor. "No. I'm on shift in an hour." She ran her hands through her hair, searching for the o-ring she used as a hairband. "But I might take you up on your offer tonight."

Her morning ablutions did not take long. Water was rationed on Mars Base: drinking water and water for the greenhouse were priorities; bathing (beyond the essentials of hygiene) was not. This, combined with the ban on deodorants and chemicals, led to everyone on Mars Base developing a personal odour. The effect on newcomers to the base was overwhelming. But, after a few days - rarely more than a week - nobody noticed anything beyond the most foul of smells. Then, after breakfasting in the communal mess hall, Doctor Grayson made her way to her workstation in the greenhouse.

The greenhouse was a geodesic dome about a hundred metres in diameter, but only a tenth as high at its apex. It was the largest open space in Mars Base. Most of the greenhouse was taken up with rows of plants which provided food and helped renew and refresh the base's atmosphere. A ring of rooms at the periphery of the dome had been set aside as a laboratory. It was here that Doctor Grayson and her assistant, Bibin Mistry, worked on developing plants that could be used to seed the Martian surface.

Bibin greeted Amanda as she came in. "Doctor. We have mould in rack twenty-two again."

Doctor Grayson shrugged her way into a pair of sterile, white overalls. "How bad is it?"

"Bad. Come and see for yourself."

The two scientists made their way down the rows of racks, past myriad sealed trays of sprouts and seedlings, until they arrived at a rack labelled with the number '22'. In their trays, the once-green leaves were now covered in red patches. Doctor Grayson peered through the plastic at the plants. "So, the new treatment protocol didn't work?"

"No." Bibin shook his head. "It had more effect on the test plantings than on the infection."

"And there's still no evidence where the mould came from?"

"None."

Doctor Grayson glanced at the rest of the trays in the rack. Every last one showed signs of infestation by the red mould. "Well, it can't be helped now. We'll have to sterilise the lot; make sure the infection doesn't spread to the rest of the crops. Strip the racks, seal the trays and put them out the airlock. If that doesn't kill the mould, nothing will."

That night, Amanda Grayson dreamed again.

She was standing on the surface, the radiance of the goddess beside her. Before them, spread across the red desolation of the Martian plain, were the domes and passages of Mars Base - fragile bubbles for fragile beings. The goddess placed an arm around Amanda's shoulders. "You have done well," the goddess said. "Look."

Amanda did as she was told. As she watched, green patches began to appear around the base; shoots of life pushed their way through the red soil. Around them the desert began to bloom.

"Go. See what you have done."

Amanda stepped forward, into the sea of vegetation. She bent down, cupping the stalks and blooms in her gloved hands, holding them close to her visor so she could inspect them.

"Smell them. Breathe them in."

Amanda raised her hands to the ring that sealed her helmet to her suit. She fumbled at the latches, feeling them click open. Then she took the helmet in her hands; twisted it; lifted - !

Doctor Grayson woke suddenly. Her bedsheet was cold and wet, soaked through with her sweat. With an expression of disgust, Amanda stripped the cover back and threw it onto the floor of the bunk room passageway. Then she dropped out of her sleep rack. A sleepy voice came from the slot below hers. "Are you alright?"

"I just ... I just need to go to the head." Amanda Grayson stumbled down the passageway, her bedsheet over her shoulder. She would have to get this one cleaned. Until then, could she sleep without one? On an impulse, she pulled on her overalls and headed for the greenhouse.

Bibin Mistry was there, tending to the nutrient feeds for the crops. Although he was a scientist - a plant biologist by training - he was also an agronomist. Everyone on Mars Base was skilled in more than one area. Even the janitor had degrees in chemical engineering and public health. There were no deadweights on Mars Base. The project could not afford them. As Doctor Grayson made her way through the rows of plants, Bibin caught sight of her.

"Good morning, doctor." Bibin checked his watch. "Definitely morning. What are you doing up so early?"

"I was worried about the rest of the samples in the lab," Grayson replied. "I just had to come and see them."

Bibin nodded in sympathy. "I know what you mean. Would it help if I told you that I checked them earlier on and there are no signs of that red mould?"

"No. We still haven't found out where it came from. Until we find the source of the mould, the base ecosystem is under threat."

"Whatever it takes to get you to sleep at night."

Doctor Grayson entered the laboratory, the rows of seedling trays glowing under the halide strips. She paused to check some of the trays, to look at the shoots of green within them. There was no sign of the red mould anywhere in them. Amanda felt the knot of tension in her stomach relax. There were no problems. For now. Then, remembering her dream, she went to the airlock and peered through the vision block set into the bulkhead next to it.

The Martian desert glowed in the pre-dawn light: distant sunlight amplified by reactions in the atmosphere. From her vantage point, Amanda could make out the ridge that she had stood on in her dream, its crenellations silhouetted against the sky. She looked down, to the stacks of trays that had been left out for scouring in the cold of the night. The contents of the trays had been knocked out of their dimples and scattered across the ground. But, where she expected to see desiccated stalks of brown fibre, Amanda saw living greenery.

For a moment Doctor Grayson stared in disbelief. The plants had been exposed to the conditions on the Martian surface for almost a full day. By all rights they should have been dead - their cells disrupted by the cold and the low pressure. But here they were, still green. Doctor Grayson turned away and reached for the intercom by the airlock hatchway. "Bibin. Could you please come here for a moment." Her voice sounded unnaturally calm.

"Where are you, doctor?" came the reply.

"By the airlock. I need you to confirm something for me."

It took an hour before the two scientists were ready to go out of the base, onto the Martian surface. As the pressure in the airlock was equalised with that outside, the elastic fabric of their suits bulged, forced outwards by their bodies, then held. Together, Bibin Mistry and Amanda Grayson stepped out. They felt rather than heard the gritty soil crunch under their feet.

"Over here." Amanda guided her companion to the stacks of boxes and knelt down beside one of the clumps of discarded growth medium. She picked it up for Bibin to inspect. "See?"

Bibin took the bolus of compost from her and ran his fingers through it. The surprise in his voice was clear, even through the tinny notes of the speakers. "This is impossible."

"I know. But here it is."

Amanda picked up another of the seedlings and started to pry part the mass of roots, hoping to gain some insight into what had happened. She broke apart the soil, revealing long strands of red fibres. "I think I know what happened."

That night, Amanda Grayson dreamed.

She dreamt that she was on the surface of Mars. Everywhere she looked, instead of red soil and rocks she saw green prairies, lush growth. Tall grass billowed and swayed in a wind, but it was a wind that Amanda could not feel. Her suit isolated her from the world, insulated her.

The goddess stood beside her. "Why do you not enjoy the fruits of your labour?" she asked Amanda. But Amanda just stood there, silent. The goddess leaned close. "You should have faith," she whispered. "Trust yourself."

Amanda took a deep breath, removed her helmet and then exhaled.