Rocket Man On Mars

Planet of Re-birth

By S. M. Revolinski

Experienced astronaut Brent Taggart abandons NASA and joins a private industrialist in his venture to send a man to Mars. The true motive for the trek is unknown to all but a few. A mysterious crater has been observed on Mars, and some believe it harbors alien life. Brent is sent to learn the truth. Can he survive meeting the new visitors?

Brent Taggart smiled. He loved listening to Mary Ann’s soft, sighing moans as she climaxed. He was naked, lying atop her. She was also nude with her bottom resting on Brent’s shirt to keep the beach sand from finding its way where it was not wanted.

Damn sand gets into everything, Mary Ann had said.

As they shifted to blissful afterglow, Brent felt the heat of the tropical sun on his bare buns. They would have to move into the shade of the palm trees. He did not want a painful sunburn on his alabaster derriere.

He rose onto his elbows and watched her face. He loved the sweeping brown curls which framed her face. Sensing he was looking at her, Mary Ann opened her eyes. The deep pools of mystery which were her dark eyes drew his attention. Her lips parted and he waited for her to speak.

Suddenly, his body began to float upward. A fog swept between them, distorting his view of her.

“Not now!” he cried out.

A buzzing in his ear and a vibration in the palm of his hand pulled his consciousness up from the depths of the dream. He blinked his eyes open. He slowly focused on the display of red numbers on the screen a few inches from his face.

2 days, 13 hours, 17 minutes.

Through his foggy brain, Brent could not recall the exact period of time scheduled for this hypersleep session, but he knew it was not two and a half days. Mission Control had awakened him prematurely; something must be wrong with the spaceship. He sighed, wishing the dream could have lasted longer. He tried to recall what he had been doing in the dream. But, in the few seconds which had elapsed since the alarm had awakened him, he had forgotten the details of the dream. All he could remember was wanting to stay longer.

Like unmanned space probes, the Earth-bound Mission Control directed pretty much everything aboard the spaceship. They could pilot the ship to Mars without any actions on Brent’s part.

That was fun, Mary Ann said.

“What?” he asked himself.

You know, the beach.

Brent did not know. He could remember no beach. He had no idea what Mary Ann was talking about. Additionally, he had no idea why he consider his alter ego to be a female called Mary Ann. He was concerned he was going crazy, but he didn’t want Mission Control to know. Brent reasoned, there was nothing his masters back on Earth could do about Mary Ann. And, they could not cancel the mission. The ship was going to Mars and nothing could stop it.

He wiggled his toes and flexed his arms. And then, he returned his attention to the display. He read, “Urgent message from Evan Meeks.” Clearly, something had happened and his attention to the spaceship was required. Perhaps he would have real work to perform.

He continued to flex and stretch to wake up his joints. His body was rebelling; the lack of physical exercise was taking its toll.

What can it be? Mary Ann was more interested in the message than he was.

“Most likely, there is some system failure on the spaceship and we are needed to manipulate the replacement part,” he said, speaking aloud.

He scanned the next line on the display screen: 198 days, 6 hours, 12 minutes. He was very near the end of his 252 day spaceflight to Mars. Of the nearly 200 days, he had been awake for only seven of them. This tremendously reduced the need for food, water, and oxygen for the trip. This equated to reduced size and weight for the spaceship, and this translated into a manned mission to Mars being a reality versus a pipedream. Mr. Meeks had said, “We could almost make the trip in an old Mercury space capsule,” when he had hired Brent for the mission.

In the weightless environment, Brent easily pulled his body out of the sleeping cocoon. He detached the bio-monitor sensors. The computer closely monitored his body fluids and fed him liquid food via a tube in his mouth. This was slightly uncomfortable, but easily tolerated.

He floated out of the sleep chamber and into the main living compartment of the spacecraft. This was more or less the size of a shower stall. Sensors detected his entry and the lights popped on. He pulled off his diaper.

Mary Ann peered over his shoulder and cajoled him.

Hurry, Mission Control said it was urgent.

He drifted through the hatch to the command center of the ship. Again, the lights came on automatically. He buckled himself into the chair so he wouldn’t float away.

When the computer display illuminated, he clicked on the music icon.

Oh, no, not that song again.

“Oh, yes, my dear, we have got to set the mood.” The sounds of Elton John’s Rocket Man filled the spacecraft. As the song began, Brent thought back to the night before his ship launched from Earth. There had been no bag to pack, and no wife to miss, but the launch had been scheduled for nine a.m. Considering the small amount of time he had been awake, he had not really missed the Earth, or felt lonely.

You’re not alone. Mary Ann was still there.

“Indeed.” Brent paused while the Rocket Man lyrics filled the air.

He pressed the next icon: You’ve-Got-Mail. A short message appeared, “The condition of the site has changed. It’s time you knew the truth. More to follow.”

Drifting through space, Brent waited for Meeks’ follow-up message.

The next email contained a few old pictures of the mysterious crater which he had already seen. The crater was fresh in geologic, or rather marsologic, time. This crater had been created by an asteroid smashing into the planet no more than a hundred million years ago. It was about a mile in diameter and very nearly an exact circle. The crater wall was sharply defined and of a uniform height. It was a marvel that Mother Nature had created this. As explained in Meeks’ message, the early pictures from the 1990s indicated Mother Nature had been responsible. More recent pictures indicated a bluish tint to the crater’s interior. There was no explanation for this, but this alone did not make this a noteworthy anomaly. There was one picture taken only five years earlier which showed the crater rim from a sharp angle. The satellite had been snapping pictures as it rose above the horizon. It was probably targeting something else and no one saw what later drew Meeks’ attention. In the space above the crater, one could see the reflection of the Martian night sky. This could only have come from some sort of dome over the crater. This could be a physical dome, or a contrived force field, but Mother Nature had not been involved in its creation.

Following the discovery, Meeks and his people uncovered several features around the crater which moved. There were huge boulders in one configuration in one picture, and in a different arrangement in another picture taken a year later. Sometimes, one or two of the boulders completely disappeared. In this email, Meeks showed Brent the arrival of a new, hitherto unseen, formation.

“The site is alive and active. Haste is imperative,” Meeks’ narrative concluded.

That’s a funny thing for him to say, Mary Ann said.

“Indeed, surely he knows the ship is controlled by Newton’s Laws of Motion. It is going as fast as orbital mechanics allows.”

The element of the change which required Brent’s immediate attention was that one of the massive boulders was now within his targeted landing zone. A small course correction was required to shift the tilt of his orbit around Mars to move the landing to a new location.

That’s no good, Mary Ann said, speaking of the new landing site. It’s too far from the crater.

“Yeah, the excursion suit only has six hours of oxygen. From the new location, I’ll spend at least two hours to get to the crater. That’ll only leave two hours to explore before I have to return to the ship.”

What about that triangular area? It appears to be a perfect landing site, and it’s even closer to the crater than the original site.

Mary Ann had a good point. The new configuration of boulders created a pattern which was a perfect equilateral triangle. It made the perfect landing site. As the ship was descending, he could see one or more of the boulders and he could use this to guide his landing. It was actually a godsend.

“Okay, let’s make the calculations for this as our destination.” The message from Meeks had included the necessary information for the mid-course burn to move the ship to the landing site he had chosen. To select the equilateral triangle, Brent would have to do the calculations himself. A few minutes with the computer, and he had the new numbers.

“Check my work, please.” He was still concerned about the nagging fog around his mental faculties. However, asking his alter ego to check his work was a nonsensical notion.

After a moment, Mary Ann responded, Looks spot on.

Brent suddenly realized Mary Ann had crossed the line. She was now directing his actions. This was the point where he could no longer trust his judgment. This was the point where he needed to stop and notify Mission Control. But, the triangular landing zone was a superior location. Perhaps it had been his own thoughts which had identified it. His mind had attributed his internal debate as being Mary Ann’s idea.

Brent sighed and punched in the numbers for the mid-course burn into the computer.

There was no time to suggest the new site to Meeks and then wait for hours while he debated the issue. He would tell Meeks about it after the burn. The message had come from Meeks personally, and Brent’s reply would be transmitted in-kind. Possibly, Mission Control did not know about the movement of the boulders and, thus, the change in landing sites. The mystery surrounding the crater was not yet public knowledge.

The spaceship’s autopilot initiated small puffs on the maneuvering jets to orient the ship. The computer counted down and the maneuvering jets shot out a stream of propellant. In a few seconds, it was over.

Brent composed a message to Meeks stating what he had done and why. The new location would give him more than four hours of exploration time at the crater. Use of the three boulders as landing beacons actually reduced the risk associated with the landing.

And then, he returned to the sleep chamber. He wondered what dreams he would have this time.

***

“Here we go. Last chance to get off,” Brent said to Mary Ann. He was aboard the lander and had just clicked the icon authorizing the autopilot to initiate the landing sequence.

Mary Ann didn’t answer. She had not said anything since he had entered the landing module. Her silence confused Brent. Since she was a figment of his subconscious, he wondered if her absence indicated something wrong was with his brain. Could his brain power be diminishing? More likely, he was concentrating on the work to execute the landing on Mars.

At the prescribed time, retrorockets fired and detached. Brent could see the triangular pattern of the monoliths below. They were rushing up to the ship uncomfortably fast. Taking manual control, Brent fired the landing rockets. With only a few seconds worth of fuel remaining, he brought the lander to a gentle rest on the surface of Mars.

You did that quite well, Mary Ann said.

“Thank you.” Brent smiled. He sent a transmission to Mission Control. He had arrived alive. It was redundant; from the telemetry information, they would already know this.

Scanning the horizon, he could barely discern the mystery crater in the distance. What had appeared to be sharp, vertical sides in the photos taken from orbit were gentle slopes when seen from the surface.

Having not felt the effects of gravity for nine months, Brent eased out of the chair and dropped to the floor of the module. Nine months — his mind suddenly fixated on the idea that the human gestation period was the same as the time to transit from Earth to Mars. He was an infant, reborn — a child on Mars. His joints creaked and his muscles ached. His brain told him that only two weeks had transpired since he had left Earth; however, his body felt 30 years older. Had it not been for the light gravity of Mars, Brent doubted he would be able to stand erect.

Mission protocol required him to eat and rest, but his mind would not settle. His stomach was in knots and didn’t want any food. Knowing that Mission Control really didn’t have any control over him, he donned his Mars Excursion Suit.

Going for a walk?

“Yep.”

Can I come too?

“Sure,” he said, inviting Mary Ann. She didn’t require an excursion suit.

Brent did not plan on an idle, unscheduled stroll. He knew he had only enough oxygen for three 6-hour excursions. This was a shoestring mission. This first walk would be to set up the chemical generators inside the lander to create methane rocket fuel from the carbon-dioxide atmosphere. It would take many months for the chemical generators to perform this task — drop by drop. But, the launch window for his return to Earth was 462 days away. He would complete his exploration of the crater, send the information to Meeks, and then return to hypersleep while the rocket ship refueled itself.

The effort had taken only an hour. He still had five hours of air remaining, He began to explore his surroundings.

“Oh, my God!”

What?

“I just realized I forgot to say something profound as I first set foot on Mars.” His lapses in memory were continuing.

What were you going to say?

“I forgot to think about it. But, it’s done now.”

Why can’t you say something now?

“I already did. I blurted out: Oh, my God. The boys in Mission Control will have a field day with that.” He imagined the conspiracy theories which would arise from his unexpected first words.

And, what about our conversation just now?

“Hmm.” Brent realized he had been speaking out loud. All of these words would be transmitted to Earth. They were now hanging in the infimum between Earth and Mars. If only there was some way he could reach out and pull them back. In a few minutes, the boys in Mission Control were going to realize he had lost his marbles.

Checking his air supply, he decided to walk to the nearest boulder which defined the equilateral triangle. He would check it out, and return to terminate his first Martian exploration.

Walking across the flat plane in the light gravity was easy. The boulder was a hundred feet high and looked like a cross between a construction scaffold and the monoliths depicted in the movie, 2001, A Space Odyssey. The discovery was startling, but not exactly a surprise. Brent had been sent to Mars to find evidence of intelligent extra-terrestrial life and the monolith was this evidence. This alone justified the journey.

However, he thirsted for more information. What was the purpose of the monolith? Was it a beacon to attract humans to Mars? Were the alien builders still around. And, most importantly, would Brent have an opportunity to meet them?

Returning to the lander, he composed a message to Meeks about what he had discovered, including close-up photos. To Mission Control, he related how tired he was and how boring the landscape was. He said he hoped the journey to the crater would be more interesting.

He ate, and went to sleep. This was a natural sleep, not a hypersleep. He didn’t dream.

***

Dropping to the Martian surface, Brent drew a deep breath; the sound of his exhale reverberated inside the spacesuit helmet. And then he checked himself. He intended to make his oxygen last as long as possible, and that meant he had to breathe slowly and evenly. He held the next breath for a moment, and slowly exhaled.

He was refreshed and excited. The rim of the crater loomed over the horizon.

The plan was for Brent to climb up the crater’s rim and look inside. He hoped there would be some means by he could enter the caldera. As he approached the crater, he saw that its apparent gentle slope was an illusion created by the curvature of the Martian surface.

The area became rough, strewn with car-sized rocks as the slope of the ground under his feet angled upward. He related everything he saw to Mission Control; there was nothing about this scene that appeared unnatural. Of course, there was no reply.

“I can’t do it; I just can’t climb it,” Brent announced, after two hours of searching for a way up. The interior of the crater would remain a mystery.

Look at the map, Mary Ann said.

Brent was careful not to respond to her, but he did pull the picture of the landing site from his pocket. He studied the picture of the crater and the surrounding area. He wondered what she wanted him to see. He was on the verge of asking, when she said, Look at the monoliths. The one nearest the crater. Is it really a hole in the ground?

“Shit!” Brent exclaimed, and regretted the outburst. Calming his voice, he related to Mission Control that he had found a way inside. He withheld the details. As Mary Ann had indicated, the dark smudge on the photograph was really a hole in the ground.

“Hey, I’ve found a crevasse, and I think it will lead me inside. But, I’ll be out of radio communication for a while. Please stand by,” he reported to Mission Control.

Forgetting to conserve air, he trotted down into the darkness. His excursion suit had only two small lights because he was not expecting to be on the surface after dark. He flipped on the lights.

You won’t need that.

“Why?”

You’ll see.

Brent turned off the lights. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized the walls glowed with a soft green illumination.

He marched on.

He paused to examine a short stretch of the tunnel where the walls glowed a brighter green. Cautiously, he entered the region. He felt pressure; there was a force gently squeezing him. After he exited the region, the pressure remained. He realized the sensation felt like passing through an airlock as the increasing air pressure squeezed his spacesuit.

“Is there air in here?” he asked Mary Ann. She seemed to have all the answers.

But, she didn’t respond.

Reminiscent of an approaching train, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. In another minute, he exited the tunnel. While he expected he was inside the crater, the scene was nothing like he expected.

The exit of the tunnel was a hole in a cliff. Looking up, Brent saw the shear wall of the crater’s interior caldera culminating in a greenish sky. Surrounding him, Brent saw a lush forest, but the plants were blueish, not green.

“What is this place?”

But, Mary Ann still wouldn’t respond.

He removed his helmet and drew a cautious breath. The air was fresh with a hint of salty sea air. He removed his suit and placed it a couple of steps inside the tunnel.

He squished his toes into the sandy soil. It wasn’t as course as Earth beach sand. Rather, it felt spongy when he walked. Looking closer at his surroundings, he saw a path through the jungle. He walked along the path as it twisted and turned and sloped downward.

Listening, Brent could not hear the chatter of birds which would be found in an Earth jungle. A slight breeze blew from his left which fluttered the tops of the trees. Straining, he could hear nothing but a rhythmic rumble, something like a machine. The thought made him think of H. G. Wells’ story, The First Men in the Moon. Was he trapped? What if the aliens stole his excursion suit?

The path ended at a beach. The sound was that of the waves crashing on the shore. This was what had sounded like a mechanical noise. They were generated by a giant wave machine.

Brent wondered what sort of aliens created this place. He considered it might be a figment of his imagination; an illusion created for his benefit. But, he rejected this notion. If the scene was from his memory, then the trees would look like Earth trees. The aliens who constructed this place might be Gorn lizard men, but they liked the beach as much as humans did. This could be nothing short of an amusement park like Disney World’s Typhoon Lagoon. However, where were the aliens?

He examined the horizons. To the left and right, the beach extended as far as he could see, apparently a couple of miles. Straight ahead, out to sea, he saw nothing but water. Behind him, there was only jungle. However, he knew the caldera was only a mile in diameter. The crater walls should be visible in every direction. Clearly, the alien designers were capable of impressive illusions. What could he trust from his lying eyes?

Brent could not imagine the resources dedicated to the construction of the caldera’s interior. The Martian surface temperature rarely exceeded the freezing point. However, the crater’s interior was a welcoming, balmy warmth. The energy expenditure to maintain this environment was enormous. However, Brent was now certain there was at least one other planet in the galaxy which mimicked Earth’s environment. The aliens had come from a planet very similar to Earth.

Motion caught his eye.

A woman was walking along the waterline. She was barefoot, wearing very short shorts and a shirt. The shorts were blue and the shirt was red. The shirt was unbuttoned and its tails were tied together under her breasts, creating a bare midriff style. The hip hugger waistband of the shorts left her belly button exposed. Somehow, the scene looked familiar.

“Mary Ann, it’s you… in the flesh?”

“Yes,” she spoke aloud. She walked up to him in the shadows of the palm trees. She smiled and stroked his cheek. They kissed. “Do you remember me now?”

He did remember her. Suddenly, he remembered his dreams and how they had made love. It had been on this very beach.

“Yes.” It was as though their previous times together had not been dreams, but had really happened.

Holding his hand, she sat. He allowed her to pull him down beside her. They kissed again.

She said, “I’ve waited so long for this.”

Soon they were naked and making love. They took their time. It was a long slow progression to climax.

***

Brent opened his eyes. He had no way of knowing how long he had been asleep, but Mary Ann was gone. He concluded she was some sort of cyborg created by the real aliens from his dreams.

He dressed and retraced his steps to the portal leading to the tunnel. The sky was dark with numerous stars when he reached his excursion suit. It was clean; all the Martian dust had been removed. Donning the suit, he observed the oxygen bottles were once again full.

It had been eight hours since he had entered the tunnel. Mission Control would certainly think he was dead. He was going to be Lazarus exiting the tomb when he walked onto the surface.

Boarding the lander, he composed a message for Meeks; he had paid for the mission and the bonanza of information belonged to him. He could decide how to distribute what Brent had learned.

After transmitting the message, he thought about entering hypersleep.

Mission Control intended for him to sleep while waiting for the lander’s fuel tank to fill, and then to return to the main ship in orbit. However, he could spend this time with Mary Ann. He wanted to meet one of the real aliens. But, this wait could be a long, long time. He imagined being on a tropical island with Mary Ann, and smiled. He recalled the Ray Bradbury story, Mars is Heaven.

Brent put on his excursion suit.

THE END

Copyright ©2023 by S. M. Revolinski All Rights Reserved

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