The first stage had already been established, completed by robots and drones for the crew. Once testing was finished on that, Shan and his squad would begin an ambitious program of expansion, sealing and pressurizing new sections of the lava tube.
The crew couldn’t wait. They’d trained for this for a decade. They weren’t here on a flag-planting mission. No, not at all. They were here instead to build a new world.
Shan looked over his squad again, checking they were all under cover.
They were in two groups, one with him under the overhang, the other with Wei just down the gully under the tenting. His men were in place and had completed their checklist for this. All of it seemed easy and mundane, but he could see how it would become an irritating distraction from their work.
But this was also important, maintaining the secrecy of their presence.
Even if the last American orbiter was half blinded by government hackers.
A little further up the gully was the entry to the lave tube and the new biosphere. The airlock there was also camouflaged.
Even though the orbiter wouldn’t likely be visible, Shan’s gaze automatically went from his men to Mars’s ruddy sky. The horizon stretched pale orange, some high clouds light, wispy and golden to the south, but there was little else to see.
Wei came on over the comms. “Stealths are ready. Sheets and mats in place.”
Shan asked, “What about the dusters?”
“Banks one and two have run. The third is not yet connected.”
“Still working on the cables?”
“Yes.”
Shan was pleased they’d been able to manage as much as they had under tough conditions. The damage to the factory ship and its cargo bay had included a crushed container of cabling and other stocks. Such losses were expected, so they had some spares, but that hadn’t made their first week any easier.
The alarm sounded again. Shan repeated the warning for all. “Forty-five seconds.”
On the private channel, Wei’s voice came back through. “This is too much of an interruption. This would be easier if they just took the last orbiter out.”
“The Americans would get suspicious. They’ve already lost most of their platforms.”
“Yes, the accidents. Regardless, they will discover our presence soon enough.”
Shan said, “Perhaps they already have.”
“Nothing is public,” Wei noted.
“No, but there is too much to hide. Sooner or later, taking out their orbiters, hacking their video feeds, and using dusters and camo tenting will not be enough. Someone at NASA will notice something.”
“Yes, I suppose. Someone will leave a storage crate out or a set of clear rover tracks.”
“Or a camera will catch the glint of a solar panel as it reflects the sun. Something will give us away, if it hasn’t already.”
“So, our efforts in hiding will be a waste.”
Shan argued, “No, they give us time to advance our plans.”
“What will Beijing do when challenged?”
Shan shrugged. “It will depend on how advanced our program is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once our presence is discovered and made public back on Earth, the American president will order NASA to send a flag-waving mission to make their own claim. By then, we will not just be years ahead in planning and cargo missions, but we will have also changed the reality of Mars.”
“Yes?”
Shan continued, “On the ground, Mars will already be red. Chinese red. Already, Mars Command One oversees hundreds of us scattered across thirty other mission sites like ours. In a few more years, that number will be well into the thousands.”
Wei chuckled. “And in a year we won’t be alone!”
“No, my friend. In a year, Beijing will send our women and we will get our reward. Not long after, we will see the first Martians born in our lava tube habitats—our children.”
The alarm sounded again, so Shan broadcast a warning to his squad. “Thirty seconds. Radio silence for sixty seconds.”
They all waited. Those who could see the horizon searched for any sign of the passing unmanned orbiter.
And, surprisingly, there it was.
A faint twinkle in the sky, rushing from the southwest.
The Americans.
Shan noted the comms indicator showed as off on the projected display upon the inside of his visor.
The comms blackout wasn’t just something they were ordered to observe, but made mandatory by those higher up the chain. When comms were supposed to be kept silent, the whole system was killed remotely, but Shan wasn’t sure whether it was automated or from Mars Command One. There was a possibility it even came, time delayed, all the way from Beijing Command.
For that matter, he was certain Beijing had access to all their controls, not just their comms. If Party bosses wanted them to be kept silent, whether for an orbiter’s passage, a day, or permanently, he was certain they had an array of methods to achieve that.
But it was unnecessary.
Not just unnecessary, but dangerous. What if there was an accident? Most of the American orbiters weren’t even equipped to pick up local comms—and none of them were fully operational.
The blackout was just an added level of precautions that interrupted their already tough work schedule. Still, he took solace in knowing that soon, when the lava tube habitat was ready, they would have no need to hide, as they would be safely ensconced.
The fast-moving light of the American orbiter sped overhead and then was gone, lost to sight by the blocking rock of the gully side.
They all stood and waited for the comms light to go green.
Mars was quiet, the air mostly still, the world around them bleak but majestic.
Shan turned from where he had watched the orbiter disappear behind the rocky slope to glance back out over the crater’s basin.
Something flared in the distance, an object in the sky.
He wondered, Another orbiter?
But then, leaving a blazing trail, the object came crashing down with a blinding flash beyond the opposite crater rim.
Chapter 2
Houxing MingLing Yi (Mars Command One), Mars
Commander Tung left his private quarters, heading through a biometrically secured door. From there, he passed along a corridor, through another secured door, and then finally entered his office and the wider warren of Mars Command One.
He was due in the Command Room in a few minutes, but first wanted to log on and check through his messages. Around him, the base walls were finished white and mostly smooth, aside from a layered look that marked so much of humanity’s construction on Mars. The horizontal lines were a product of the 3D printing technique the first robotic missions had used, and stood out in contrast to the smooth surfaces the prefab modules, such as airlocks, sent from distant Earth bore.
He sat down, his jump suit comfortable but creaseless, the latter hinting at its military design. They all knew things needed to be done right on Mars, with discipline and precision, or people died, but Beijing Command had relaxed the rules. They had had to. Even though the Chinese Mars Program was largely a military mission, much of the day-to-day operations had a relaxed feel to them. This was not a place of crisp dress uniforms, drills, weapons, and medals. Instead, Mars Command One had become a mundane labor of repetition for his crew, one Beijing had decreed should be made as tolerable as possible with minimal stresses.
After all, there was stress enough on a planet that could so easily kill you. And there was no suitable relief to be found locally.
There could be no shore leave.