Red Desert - Point of No Return (7 page)

In a moment that idea,
which had seemed to me the best in the world, proved itself silly.
In vain I tried to say something, but I knew he was right. He had
been happy with me joining the mission to Mars, not because he was
interested in travelling in space, but only because he understood
how important it was to me. I couldn’t expect him to have the same
dreams as me. After all, I had fallen in love with him precisely
because his dreams were deeply different to mine.

There was a long
silence, and then Jan spoke. “I’m going to pack my bags. I think
I’ll go back home, to Belgium.” He headed for the door.

“Jan?”

When he turned to me
with a last severe gaze, my eyes were already full of tears.

“Farewell, Anna. I
hope you find what you’re looking for, whatever that is.”

Although covered by a
thin layer of red dust, its white structure stands out in the
middle of Ophir Planum. Leaving the edge of the canyon and driving
north-east for forty minutes, I ended up in front of it, exactly on
the route I had traced on the map displayed on the rover’s main
screen. I had almost forgotten about its existence, but, as soon as
I saw the habitat that should have hosted the crew of the
Hera
more than thirty years ago, my breath failed me.

It is still there, in
one piece. Untouched. It has never been reached. Nobody has ever
stepped through its airtight door. For twenty-six years it hasn’t
sent any signals. The reason is immediately clear to me as soon as
I get close enough. A piece of parabolic antenna lies on the
ground, maybe broken by the prolonged action of wind and sand. I
understand, with no little disappointment, that this cannot be the
destination of my journey.

Who knows if the
remaining systems are still working? Life support would be really
convenient; I could recharge my oxygen reserves. With a little luck
I might even find some carbon dioxide filters.

I turn off the engine
and wear my suit. A few minutes I’m outside. Through the augmented
reality I read the data provided little by little by the on-board
computer’s sensors. There isn’t any electromagnetic activity, but
the system could be on standby since it hasn’t received any
transmissions for decades. But the technology is obsolete, so I
don’t have any suitable equipment through which I can interface it,
and even if I did, the antenna is out of order, so a wireless
connection is impossible anyway.

As I get closer to the
airlock entrance I notice the presence of an external control
panel. It’s turned off and encrusted with dust. There are some
faded coloured buttons bearing partially deleted signs. I push one
of them at random, and then another, but nothing happens.

I’m wasting my
precious time, I know I should come back to my rover right now and
resume my journey, but I insist on staying here. My survival
instinct is getting the better of me. My hope of being able to
obtain something useful out of this place forces me to make a
further attempt, before giving up for good.

I look up. Perhaps I
could go up on the roof and reach the transceiver connected to the
antenna. If I got it back in service, somehow, I could let the
system believe it’s receiving a signal and reactivate it. I wish
Robert were here right now. Even if he were high, he would be much
better than me in carrying out such repairs.

A metal stepladder is
installed on the wall in front of me. I climb it. Once on top, I
immediately spot the device I’m looking for. It isn’t far from the
edge of the roof, but as I’m heading to it I notice something
wrong. The remaining roof surface is covered by solar panels, so
inclined to gather the maximum irradiation throughout the year. But
they are covered by a thick layer of dust. The automatic
maintenance system, which should have kept them clean, must have
stopped working a long time ago.

I get closer. Most of
them are in place, but their efficiency must be reduced or almost
zero in these conditions. Moreover a few of them are visibly
damaged, maybe by the same weather elements that have broken the
antenna. I follow the wiring with my gaze. The conduits are
fragmented. The external casing of the batteries’ housing is
crossed by deep cracks.

There’s no doubt. The
hab doesn’t have electricity, it’s dead. I cannot hope to
reactivate the system. I cannot even enter to get some filters.
Anyway, how can I know they would be alright for the life support
of my rover?

‘
Why am I wasting
my time in this place?’

I look around. From
this high position, I have a view of the enormous plain, and on the
opposite side, by the horizon, I spot the verge of the canyon
system. Some writing appears, indicating the precise distance to
the main reference points.

All at once, while I’m
looking in that direction, a glare hits my eyes. I quickly move my
head to take me out of the trajectory of the beam. I’m dazzled and
for some instants I can’t see properly. I increase my helmet’s
filter and try to locate the origin of the light.

There’s something down
there, a few hundred metres from the hab. Something glassy or
perhaps metallic. I zoom in. A rectangle appears in the middle of
my visual field, where the image is magnified and an object takes
shape. It’s partly planted on the ground and has got an undefined
shape, but it’s covered by a metal sheet, about two metres wide, as
suggested by the displayed data, which is detached from it. One end
is raised and the strong wind makes it vibrate, sending a
reflection of sunlight in my direction from time to time.

I already grasp what
it may be, while the helmet unit analyses the object’s shape for
some seconds, until it finds a match. Then its stylised image rises
before my eyes and places itself on the back of a fuselage’s
sketch.

That of a shuttle.

I drove all night long
in a partial state of shock. In the end I could barely recall those
bends in the snow and then the motorway. I crossed the border with
Austria and then with Italy. It was almost morning when I began to
see in the distance the suburbs of the Milanese metropolis, wrapped
up by a thin mist.

Milan was where my
father had lived for the last ten years with his family. In the end
he had left his country to stay closer to his older son, who
attended university in Italy, and then he’d decided to stay in
order to offer better opportunities to his youngest children. It
was where I had gone to meet him, for the first and last time, but
then I had discovered he had left for a short vacation and had
tracked him down in Germany.

I had found him thanks
to a private, very discreet detective, handsomely paid to forget
me, after having done his job. I was certain nobody could trace it
back to me.

Once at Linate Airport
I returned my car and entered the air terminal. I was exhausted. I
hadn’t eaten for at least twelve hours, but I wasn’t hungry at all.
My flight to Stockholm would leave in the late afternoon and I
therefore had much, too much time at my disposal.

I kept on repeating to
myself that in less than a week I would be away from all this. I
could pretend it never happened. I just had to let this day pass,
go back to my city, say a last goodbye to my mother’s house, now
empty, and the day after I would fly to America. Then I would spend
the following days together with the rest of the crew for the last
preparations.

I knew that nobody
would discover me in so little a time, but nonetheless I kept on
looking around me, suspicious.

While I was sipping
herbal tea in one of the bars, a pair of policemen sat at a table
beside mine. I couldn’t avoid staring at them. One of them turned
to me and our eyes locked for an instant. I turned to the opposite
side and started looking for nothing inside my handbag.

“Madam?”

I started on hearing a
voice so close to me. It was the policeman; he had risen from his
chair and was standing in front on me.

“Are you alright?”

I couldn’t understand
what he wanted from me. I looked at him, aghast and trembling. I
must have been pale.

“Yes …” I babbled.
“Alright.”

Then I realised he was
observing my clothes, not my face. I lowered my eyes and noticed
with horror a bloodstain on my white down jacket.

“Are you sure you are
alright?” he insisted. His voice had become suspicious. His
colleague had stood up and was joining him.

“Oh, you mean this!” I
exclaimed, cracking a nervous smile and gesturing. “No, don’t
worry. My nose bled … earlier. Unfortunately I don’t have a change
of clothes with me.”

The policemen looked
at each other. I was trying to interpret their gazes. I had to stay
calm and behave normally, but I felt like I was about to vomit. I
could only think about my wool gloves, stained with my father’s
blood, which were in the handbag laid on the seat beside me.

“It’s quite a lot of
blood,” the second policemen commented, doubtful. “If you want, we
will take you to the infirmary. Your blood pressure must be quite
high. It isn’t something you can underestimate.”

When I heard his
words, I relaxed. He was just worried I was really sick. He wasn’t
thinking I had assaulted someone with a paper cutter.

“Thank you, officer.”
This time my expression was no doubt much more relaxed. “But it
happened to me yesterday night. I’m fine now, believe me. I’ll pay
a visit to my doctor tomorrow. Thanks again,” I rapidly
concluded.

I felt I hadn’t been
very convincing and their perplexed gazes seemed to confirm that.
The silence that followed seemed never-ending to me.

“You’re welcome,
madam.” The first one had spoken, adding a reluctant nod.

Then the policemen
returned to their coffee.

I’ve stopped at few
metres from the precipice. This is the right direction, but I can’t
really go any further in the rover. Standing on the edge of the
canyon, I try to identify a point where the slope becomes gentler,
so that I can drive on it with my vehicle. Looking down, I realise
that the situation is far more complicated than I’d hoped. The rock
dips down for some hundreds of metres, where it meets a kind of
ledge, and then it dips down again, as a canyon inside a canyon.
The deepest point in the zone is over two thousand metres deep.

I must not be
dejected. It’s essential that I remain calm if I want to find a
solution. I’ve come this far. I cannot get discouraged now.

My eyes follow the
conformation of the terrain eastward. It seems to go on unchanged
for kilometres. Even when magnifying the image to see further, no
big differences appear to me, not from this position. Heading in
the opposite direction would mean going back, although it is a
different route from the one I took to come here. With more
detailed maps I could have saved some hours, but all I have derives
from satellite detections that, taken from above, have a poor
perspective.

I look at the sun. It
is still high, but it’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon. It
goes down quickly near the equator and in a few hours the night
will fall on Valles Marineris. And it will be cold, too. I have a
seventeen-hour oxygen reserve at my disposal inside the rover, in
the warmth, plus seven remaining in my suit, but actually only
three before the night comes. I can’t walk anywhere in the dark and
I can’t descend the cliff with my vehicle.

I turn my gaze again
to the immense space opening up at my feet. Thanks to the training
I’ve become a decent climber, but how deep can I descend in three
hours? A lot, if I had a rope long enough, but certainly not two
thousand metres.

I knew from the
beginning it was folly; I would’ve probably died in the attempt. I
could wait for the sunrise, burning out fifteen hours without doing
anything, but then would the residual ones suffice? I don’t want to
spend the remainder of the day waiting for my death. I must do
something. Use this time. Survive to tell what I’ve seen. Perhaps
it could be enough.

All at once I don’t
want to die anymore. It seemed to me I had no other hope, apart
from this one. I thought I felt ready to risk everything, even my
life. Now that my death has become something real and I know I have
a long time ahead of me just waiting for its arrival, I feel
terrified.

I’m scared.

‘
Think,
Anna.’

It took thirty-three
hours for me to come this far. Seventeen are too few to go back.
It’s true. But, when the air in the rover runs out, I can wear my
suit. So I have twenty-four hours in all. I could drive all night
across the plains, without stopping for sleep, unlike I did during
the outward voyage. I might make it, maybe.

No. I shake my head.
I’m already tired. I must sleep for a few hours at least. And
anyway I would have to drive very slowly in the dark.

I linger on, admiring
nature’s spectacle which opens before my eyes. No human being has
ever set foot here. Only now do I realise how lucky I am. In the
afternoon light the red rocks seem crossed by brilliant, yellow
veins. If only Michelle could have seen all this. She would be
overjoyed. She would tell me the name of each single mineral, even
if sometimes I suspected she cheated. Actually I don’t know much
about geology; I would’ve believed every word. She said there was
something wonderfully poetic in lifeless matter. Its perfection,
its complete respect of the laws of nature, the order that
characterised it, all that was a sign to her of a greater force
which ruled it.

It’s odd, but I think
exactly the same about life.

How could she kill
herself that way? What if Hassan was really involved in her death …
Hassan! Twenty-four hours isn’t enough for me to return to Station
Alpha, but it is enough for me to get closer to it. He could meet
me halfway in his rover, bringing new filters for my life support.
I could contact him by satellite.