The Ruins of Mars (The Ruins of Mars Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

NASA

      One-and-a-half weeks had passed since Remus and Romulus first began their scan of the planet Mars. Project Mars Map Mission Commander James Floyd leaned back in his office chair and placed his bare feet upon his desk. His job was one wrought with stress and constant worry, so whenever he could afford himself the time he liked to remove his uncomfortable loafers and socks and let the plush carpet of his office poke up between his toes. James was a bony man with graying hair, which had started to thin at the top. His lined and dogged face gave him a much older look than a man on the cusp of his fiftieth birthday, yet he still carried out his work with youthful exuberance.

      Scanning mindlessly through emails on his LightHouse Tablet, James cleared his throat and said, “Copernicus?”

      “Yes, James?” came a smooth reply from the air around him.

      “Do you have a minute?”

      Copernicus was NASA’s AI, and, like Alexandria, he was capable of being in multiple places at once. However, unlike his sister, Copernicus was also tasked with the primary operations of NASA’s systems as well as with tracking all of the agency’s satellites in Earth orbit and beyond.

      “Proceed,” replied the AI amicably.

      “Are you sure?” asked James. “I know you’re probably busy at Bessel right now.”

      In the last two years, NASA and a joint assembly of other international space programs had undertaken a mission to build a permanent base on the Moon. Much of the design and function of the base acted as a precursor to what was eventually envisioned for Mars. Due to his nearly infinite knowledge of space and its lethal environment, Copernicus had been drafted to help design the various systems and functions of the base. In fact, it was at his suggestion that the location for the structure had been chosen. Tucked away in the shadows of a small impact crater, Bessel Base was a grand geodesic dome built from a transparent aluminum, called Alon, and titanium tubing. Completed for less than six months, the base was already a major hit with the public, and applications within NASA for tours of duty were quickly piling up.

      “No trouble at all, James,” assured Copernicus. “I am presently running a systems-diagnostic for Dr. Conig, so assisting you is, as I said, no trouble at all.”

      Chuckling, James scrunched his toes in the long fibers of the sky blue carpet.

      “In that case, will you please pull up the progress report on Remus and Romulus?”

      “Yes, I have it here.”

      “Project it for me, will you?”

      The lights in the room dimmed, and James scooted his chair back as the surface of his desk faded to a bright white with a low humming noise. First, the holographic images of Remus’s and Romulus’s bodies, the satellites, appeared.

      Clearing his throat, James commanded, “Okay, I’ll take control of the visuals.”

      “It’s all yours, James,” Copernicus conceded softly. Then, “Do you still need my assistance?”

      Yawning, James wove his fingers together, then stretched his hands out, popping several knuckles audibly.

      “Stick around for a bit in case I do, alright.”

      As if batting at a small insect, James flicked his right hand to the side and the images of the satellites slid away. The next set of projections was a series of numbers and charts indicating the power and fuel levels of the satellites as well as other internal diagnostic reports. In the upper left- and right-hand corners were the two ever-shifting fractal patterns that represented the visual depictions of the twin AIs. Sliding the projection away, James brought up an image that looked like a wrinkly orange cut in half. Spreading his hands as if parting invisible curtains, he enlarged the unfinished model.

      “What percentage am I looking at here?” he asked, tipping his head towards the projection.

      “You are viewing a forty-three percent completed model of the planet Mars,” Copernicus answered quickly.

      With the motion of holding an imaginary ball, James flipped the projection on its top, then spun it. Even in the model’s uncompleted form, he could already see vast swathes of permafrost highlighted in blue mere meters below the planet’s dusty surface. As the model turned, James could make out the northwestern-most tip of the Valles Marineris canyon network. The rest was yet to be scanned, but he had high hopes for the deep canals. James, like many, believed that the immense amount of water it would have taken to carve the Valles was sure to be nearby. Probably just under the sand. Also visible on the incomplete model were the mountains Ascraeus Mons, Pavonis Mons and the mighty Olympus Mons, the tallest mountain in the solar system, nearly five kilometers high.

      Rubbing the back of his neck, James said, “At this rate, when can I expect the full model?”

     The image of the spinning half-planet was replaced by a simple projection of a red sphere with two tiny green dots rotating around it. The green dots started to spin on their orbits faster and faster, moving from the top of the red disk to the bottom. A time code in the upper right-hand corner sped up to match the little green dots, then stopped when they had reached the South Pole.

      “At their current rate of progress, Remus and Romulus will complete their scan in seventy-one hours, twenty-one minutes and eighteen seconds. That is slightly ahead of the estimates outlined in their mission plan.”

      Sitting back down in his chair, James clapped his hands together and massaged his fingers. Smiling, he nodded towards the projection.

      “Alright, I’m done. Would you make sure that the guys in navigations and mapping get a look at this? I think it will help in determining possible construction sites. Oh, and clue Director Barnes in on this too. I don’t want him to feel left out of the loop. Thanks.”

      “As you wish, James,” said Copernicus warmly. “Have a nice day.”

      “You too,” James yawned as the images above his desk disappeared and the lights came back on.

      Everything is going well, he smiled to himself. Already the scan was turning up what they had been expecting: water on Mars, and lots of it.

      “I’m getting thirsty just thinking about it,” he announced to the empty room.

Amazonia City

      Two days later in Amazonia City, Peru, Harrison Raheem Assad paced the length of his hotel room, stopping occasionally to glance at his watch. Closing his eyes, he mumbled the well-rehearsed opening lines of his upcoming presentation under his breath. Hanging in the air over his coffee table was the Nazca ruin, refreshed and rebuilt to its ancient splendor. Using the scanned model from the UC Berkeley satellites, Harrison had digitally inlaid images of tall ironwood trees growing from the twelve recessed pits of the stone square. The various branches of each tree were formed into intricate shapes by taut lines, anchored to the relieved stone rings that encircled the pits. Flicking his hand absently, Harrison slid the image of the ruin away to be replaced with a glowing timeline. By testing the soil samples he and Bailey had collected, Harrison was able to prove that nearly 2,000 years ago a fire had indeed swept through the site, burning the trees and charring the ground. Glancing at the timeline, Harrison made another quick gesture and brought up the projection of a small village surrounded by evenly-tilled fields.

      After returning from the ruins days before, Harrison had remained perplexed by the cause of the fire that destroyed the bonsai garden. Going back to the original scan of the site, he had searched closely for evidence of its ignition. With Alexandria’s help, he eventually located a large patch of forest near the ruin, which was comprised of a less dense soil composite than that of the surrounding jungle. By studying the shape and size of the strange patch, Harrison had judged that it was probably ancient farmland, cleared during the reign of the Nazca but now reclaimed by the jungle.

      Because the scan had been primarily focused on the ruin itself, Harrison could not know for certain that he was, in fact, looking at signs of human habitation. Logging the coordinates with Alexandria, he and Bailey had returned to the site the next day, this time turning their backs on the mossy stones of the Nazca ruin, to strike out into the jungle beyond. After an hour of stomping through the dense rainforest, Harrison and Bailey, aided by Alexandria, had finally found the area in question. Setting to work, they used CT ground scanners and soon discovered not only evidence of farmland, but also that of a sedentary dwelling. After collecting numerous soil samples, the two had placed beacon markers for a more precise and detailed satellite scan before tiredly trekking back to the Jeep.

      The images returned by the scan, coupled with the results of the newest soil samples, confirmed what Harrison had suspected. Long ago, there had been a small Nazca farming village nestled in the jungle near the temple of the tees. Around 2,000 years ago, a fire had spread from the open farmlands surrounding the ancient village and eventually burned itself to the ruins about two kilometers away.

      The newly located village was added to a map that detailed the extent of the Nazca Empire, and officials from the ministry of archaeology moved in to take over the excavations. Despite being ousted by the government, the discovery was a huge step up for Harrison.

      Back in his hotel room, he felt the familiar pull of nervousness on his stomach. In fifteen short minutes, he was expected to present his findings to an audience. Within the crowd would be several officials from the ministry of antiquities and archaeology, the mayor of Amazonia City and his entire class. Adjusting his tie, Harrison tightened the knot and sighed impatiently.

      “Mr. Assad?” came the voice of the hotel’s AI, breaking the silence. “You have an incoming call from Qingdao, China.”

      Smoothing his hair, Harrison turned to face the wall, then said, “Go ahead, Giles.”

      Long before Harrison had been born, engineers and computer technicians had discovered a way to convert seemingly ordinary household objects into computer monitors. By creating a new form of fiber optic glass, these technicians had successfully revolutionized the idea of a home computer. With this technology, such things as windows, mirrors and tabletops could be fitted with fiber optic glass panes, thus becoming computers themselves. Through electronic stimulation, these screens were capable of not only displaying images, but also, in some cases, projecting trimensional models into the air above them.

      As Harrison looked on excitedly, a section of the wall lit up, and the beaming faces of his parents filled the frame.

      “Hi guys!” he blurted nervously.

      “What have you done, you rascal!” his father chuckled. “If you keep making discoveries like this, you’re going to end up pissing off the director of antiquities in Lima! I know him. He is unpleasant.”

      With a look of mock disapproval, Harrison’s mother turned to her husband and chided, “Oh, don’t rain on his parade, you envious baby.”

      Laughing, Harrison felt the wash of nervousness fade a little, and he held up his hands in defense.

      “Well if he does get pissed, I’ll tell him to take it up with Alexandria. She’s the one who noticed the ancient farmland.”

      “Farmland!” exclaimed his father. “Who cares about that? It was your discovery of Nazca Bonsai that’s really going to make a stir.”

      Sitting on the edge of his bed, Harrison asked, “So you think I’m right, then?”

      “Yes! I looked over your findings last night, and I must say I am impressed, Son.”

      Grinning, Harrison felt the last of the butterflies leave his stomach.

      “What are you two doing in China?”

      Rolling her eyes, Harrison’s mother placed a loving hand on her husband’s shoulder.

      “Your father is giving the keynote lecture at a new university in Qingdao.”

      Excitedly, his father cut in, “Indeed! They’re finally opening up some of the government archives to me as well! I might actually be able to get a look at the real live Dropa Stones.”

      Grinning, Harrison pointed towards the ceiling and said, “You’ll find those aliens yet dad!”

      The Dropa Stones, as they were called, were at the heart of one of history's most famous stories of ancient extraterrestrial visitation. Intricately carved discs of solid rock, the stones were discovered in 1937 near the border of Tibet by Chi Pu Tei, a Beijing University professor of archaeology. Each disk was adorned with a cryptic form of hieroglyphic etched in a spiral pattern that spread from the center of the plane out to the edges. Their shape and size, coupled with the minuscule writing that covered them, made the Dropa Stones strongly resemble phonographic records. Completing the similarity were small circular holes punched through the center of each disc as if to allow mounting on a turn table. According to reports, the stones were uncovered deep in the recesses of a cave network, opening at the foothills of the Bayan-Kara-Ula Mountains.

      Unconfirmed accounts made claims of pictographs that covered the cave walls in the images of a central sun, and eight planets. Fine lines were said to have connected the etchings of our solar system to what looked like carvings of other suns encircled by different and strange planets. Several bizarre mummified bodies were also said to have been unearthed in the caves. Standing over seven feet tall, these humanoids figures possessed enlarged skulls and spindly appendages not in keeping with the remains of nomadic tribes often found in the area. When the Chinese government got wind of the discovery, an intervention was staged, and many of the more interesting artifacts simply disappeared.