Mission Mars Alpha: Mortal Reality Read online

  MISSION MARS ALPHA

  MORTAL REALITY

  Pierre-Etienne Bram

  Copyright © 2021 Pierre-Etienne Bram

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Translated from the french version by : Hope Heaney

  Illustration by PE BRAM

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my sister, without whom this book might never have seen the light of day

  Foreward

  As I was slowly beginning to savor my newly found romantic and professional footing following the setbacks in my love life that I chronicled in my first novel, I stumbled upon a headline in Google News: Seeking Volunteers to Colonize Mars in 2024. Intrigued by the title, I perused the article and discovered in greater detail a totally innovative, but audacious plan: financing a one-way trip to the Red Planet with funds generated from a reality TV program created to film the selection of volunteer candidates. As audacious as it was suicidal.

  On the Internet, scientists in turn explained why the proposed project could never come to fruition. First, the timeframe was completely unrealistic: barely nine years were scheduled to send equipment that was non-existent at the time to the intended Mars site prior to the arrival of the crew—while concurrently screening, selecting, and training the four future colonists, all of whom would undoubtedly be complete novices. NASA projected no less than twenty years to realize a similar project with experienced astronauts. Moreover, many technical problems remained to be resolved: the impact on the health of the human body following seven months of space travel; the problems associated with landing a fuselage or spacecraft weighing more than one ton in the weak Martian atmosphere; or very simply, once on Mars, how to provide oxygen to breathe. Finally, the proposed budget was completely under-estimated: according to the project organizers, it would take slightly more than six billion dollars, whereas NASA estimated a minimum of 200 to 300 billion for a project that included a return flight.

  And yet, thanks to the magic of the Internet, the proposed project apparently received more than 200,000 applicants. People willing to give their life for science… or to become famous, since we were all going to die one day or another, be it on Mars or elsewhere…

  After having carefully evaluated the project, and contemplated seven months of travel in barely 30 cubic yards of space (about the size of a small moving van), I decided I would go crazy, so I ultimately did not submit my candidacy. However, every night as I slept comfortably in my bed, I imagined myself in the colonists’ shoes, learning how to manage weightlessness and to sleep harnessed to a sleeping bag, writing memoirs in an intimate journal to kill time, and periodically smiling at the cameras constantly filming throughout the journey.

  And thus, the idea for this novel was born.

  In 2019, the news broke that the organization behind the project, which had pushed back its initial schedule multiple times while being careful to remain vague about its technical advances and recruitment on social networks, declared bankruptcy. The financing (and credibility?) needed to achieve this mission were lacking.

  Through the miracle of writing, unhindered by financial, moral, or even technical constraint, this book allowed me to see the mission through to completion.

  I named it: Mission Mars Alpha.

  April 2013

  Prologue

  A thick forest is where my investigation has led me.

  Each step draws me closer to the chilling truth I have yet to concede, although all evidence points in this direction.

  Improbable disappearances…scattered clues… all converge on this site: the culmination of my journey. At last, I am about to discover what secret lies within.

  With each step, and with each snap of a branch in the night, I can feel my adrenaline rising. Will my weapon guarantee my safety? Only time will tell.

  Advancing cautiously, armed with my headlamp and compass in hand, I stumble to the ground, tripping over a large metallic object hidden under the leaves: a surveillance drone that has plummeted through the trees, obviously grounded for some time, and low on energy.

  So far, so good.

  Finding the drone in that condition confirms that the property owners have abandoned the premises as I thought, so theoretically, I can consider this place safe.

  Another hundred yards or so ahead, I discover what I am seeking: a clearing, in the midst of which is an enormous half-buried base. By the light of the full moon, I can make out the entire structure. It measures a good three hundred yards in length by fifty yards in width.

  To the left, a few parking spaces lead to a stairway, which appears to be the sole entrance to the main building. Still, two cars parked in front make me extra vigilant, as I have no idea where their owners may be…

  To the right of the building, another structure appears to be a thorium-fueled nuclear power plant, easily recognizable by its shape—conical on one side and totally flat on the other—capable of providing a good amount of low-cost energy, which supports the conclusions that I reached during my investigation: I am on the right track.

  Now out in the open, I proceed with caution, fearing that a motion detector might betray my presence at any moment and set off the enormous searchlights I had seen on the four watchtowers surrounding the property.

  With barely fifty yards to go before I reach the entrance, the searchlights come on.

  In a flash, I lunge out of the light toward shelter in a dark corner of the building, fearing that guards or Robodogs will be in hot pursuit. Luck is on my side.

  Crouching in the shadows, I have but one fear: that the noise from my pounding heart will betray me.

  The powerful searchlights go off after several seconds, immersing me briefly in darkness, before my eyes grow accustomed to the semi-obscurity of the night.

  Continuing my advance alongside the low wall, I turn and climb down the steps leading to the entrance. I then come face to face with a heavy reinforced double door, electronically locked.

  I hold my breath, weapon in hand.

  The screech of a night bird at the edge of the clearing makes me jump, then the sound of wings flapping through the branches: an eagle-owl is on the prowl.

  Nighttime noises always bring me back to my childhood and the weekends spent camping as a Boy Scout. Everything seems peaceful for now. Perhaps too peaceful.

  I take my cellphone out of my pocket, and position it in front of a screen. A red light blinks for a few interminable seconds. An unsuccessful attempt.

  After selecting another code stored in my phone, I try my luck again… and cross my fingers...

  This time, an orange light blinks three times, then turns green, and emits a short beep.

  The door opens automatically, and an overpoweringly putrid odor escapes, while an entire row of neon lights turns on to illuminate a long, endless hallway.

  I have found the key. I am about to enter.

  Chapter 1.

  Lift-Off + Two Days

  09/14/2023

  Would you like to be one of the first to colonize Mars? Sound appealing? Then sign up for Mission Mars Alpha. Should you be one of the best candidates, you ma
y be among the first colonists to walk on the Red Planet!

  A catchy slogan. After filling out a simple on-line registration, and attaching a short introductory video, my candidacy was on its way. It took only a few minutes. One among 202,586 candidates. Several months later, after a battery of mostly psychological tests, who would have thought I would be notified that I was among the first two hundred selected?

  “Creating a buzz just to make a reality TV show, nothing more,” the media had repeatedly reported. That’s what I had thought as well. And yet, the mission was coming to fruition after several long years of physical, psychological, and theoretical training, combined with survival, selection, and stress conditioning, all of which had been filmed nearly 24/7 and followed by a good portion of the world’s population. One-half of the mission was being financed by the audience for this reality TV show intent on colonization, and the other half by somewhat anonymous donors. Every month, a handful of candidates left the mission, eliminated by viewers from around the world, the organizers, and a jury comprised of former astronauts, scientists, and several celebrities. Admittedly, nothing had gone as planned, since I was not scheduled to leave until two years later, on Mission Mars Beta.

  Am I fully prepared? Probably not, but it’s too late to back out now.

  So, I am left to reflect back on my life. I am now one of the first four future colonists of Mars, floating in the Dragon 3 spaceship (a proud descendent of the Dragon 2 model, but elongated for this mission), which has been barreling toward the Red Planet at slightly more than fifteen thousand miles per hour, for exactly two days, one hour, and twenty-three minutes.

  I must confess that I am not fully familiar with my teammates, since I had mostly trained with the Mars Beta crew. But after all, the role of an understudy is to assimilate into an unknown team. If my memory serves me correctly, that’s what happened during Apollo 13.

  There will be time for us to get to know each another during our seven and one-half months of travel before touchdown on Mars. I have a hard time with that concept, but if we can manage to land on Earth, it is only logical that we can land on Mars.

  Four people will spend nearly two hundred twenty-nine days sharing about forty cubic meters of space.

  I am not going to lie, it’s not a lot of space.

  I think back on all of the simulators, the projections, the nights when I imagined myself being exactly where I am today, harnessed in my sleeping bag, except now it is no longer a dream, it is my reality. For the time being, though, it’s more like a nightmare.

  Despite all the difficult training over these last years, two out of the four team members (including me) fainted during liftoff, because of the beating we took from the G-forces. Anticipating our reaction during this phase, the producers quickly broadcast a recording we had made in a simulator, to keep from losing face. Thankfully, earthlings were completely oblivious to the ruse!

  I have come to experience the joy of hovering, known as “zero gravity,” or weightlessness, which will merely become a part of my daily life over the upcoming months.

  The feeling of floating is cool, even if it sometimes makes you feel sick to your stomach…

  During the several weeks that I spent in the Tian Gong 2 stationary space shuttle one year ago, my space sickness cleared after two or three days. May it disappear just as quickly now, keeping in mind that, in this instance, we are not talking about a stationary flight.

  I have been throwing up for forty-eight hours now, and my travel companions have not held back from gently poking fun.

  There is a nice camaraderie among us, which is a good sign.

  Chapter 2.

  Eight Years and Several Days Before Lift-Off (202,586 Candidates Remaining)

  09/01/2015

  Claire paced anxiously in her apartment, waiting for Skype to signal an incoming call.

  The motivational video she posted on the internet had generated a large number of Likes and had clearly done the trick, since the team in charge of candidates had scheduled a videoconference interview with her, as a way to get to know her better and approve her participation in the mission.

  Not knowing how to dress, she opted for her classic “interview outfit,” which consisted of a white blouse and black skirt, in which she felt overly constricted, not to mention the inordinate amount of time she had devoted to putting on her makeup in the bathroom. She was adept at applying make-up, even though she rarely practiced.

  The email scheduling the appointment was fairly succinct, and mentioned only the date and time, and the strict ban on recording or discussing the interview afterward in any way.

  Unsteady on her heels, which she wore only on special occasions (the last time had been to the wedding of one of her friends, for whom she had served as a witness), she paced the hundred or so steps in the larger of the two rooms in her apartment. Would they grill her on subjects that were overly scientific for her? Without really absorbing the material, she had read and re-read the study guides on the Red Planet strewn beside her computer. It was too late in any event, but the stress was now keeping her from memorizing anything. Obviously, she had been in touch with other candidates through the Mission Mars Alpha online community, but no one was authorized to talk about the infamous Interview #0. She was dreading the encounter even more, given that French was her native language, and the meeting would be conducted in English. Despite having a solid base, she had never really mastered the language.

  She adjusted the position of the webcam on her tablet at least a dozen times, in order to present the best possible background. Ultimately, she decided that the best backdrop for this type of interview was a photo of herself posing in front of Machu Picchu, which she had tacked onto her blank wall. Forgetting the fact that it was totally useless, she took a brief detour into the bathroom to put on a little perfume when Skype rang, notifying her of a call. After sprinting the few yards on her “stilts,” she appeared on her interviewers’ screen.

  “Hello!”

  “Are you Claire Keznic?”

  “Yes. Pleased to meet you!”

  “Hello. I am Sandy, and this is Friedric. We are in charge of selecting the first round of candidates for Mission Mars Alpha.”

  With her dark hair styled in a bun, her severe gaze, chubby face, nose piercing, and wearing a black suit, Sandy appeared much older than her thirty years. She held a stylus in her right hand, and a tablet in her left. Friedric, who was twenty-seven years of age, was square-jawed and had very short hair. He played mechanically with a pen, which seemed to dance in his fingers.

  In the background, an enormous black-on-red Mission Mars Alpha logo covered the wall.

  “Thank you for selecting me for this interview.”

  “How are you doing, Claire?”

  “I’m doing well. How are you?”

  “Well, thank you. Are you ready to answer several questions for the Mission Mars Alpha recruitment process?”

  “I’m ready!”

  The interviewers smiled in response.

  “Good. We have seen your video, which made us want to get to know you better. Can you tell us more? Who is the real Claire?”

  “Well, my name is Claire, and I am French. I am twenty-three years old, and a biology student. I am preparing a thesis on the reproduction of vegetables in weightlessness. Needless to say, going to Mars has been my dream since I was a little girl.”

  Claire described in detail the subject matter of her thesis, which did not seem very exciting to her audience, then she finished by discussing her hobbies. “Otherwise, I do a fair bit of running, at least three times per week, and I also dance Cuban salsa.”

  “No team sports?” asked Friedric. “You have the typical build of a basketball or volleyball player. Come to think of it, how tall are you, if I am not being too indiscreet?”

  “I am six feet tall,” answered Claire, annoyed, as her height was a sensitive subject and her biggest complex.

  “That’s highly unusual, especially given the miss
ion you are vying for. I hope you’re not claustrophobic?”

  “No, not at all! Or at least, I don’t think so…”

  “You don’t think so, or you’re sure?” responded Sandy.

  “I’m sure!”

  “Perfect. Let’s continue,” replied Friedric before taking a gulp of coffee from his Mission Mars Alpha mug. “Do you have a Twitter account?”

  “Yes, just like everyone, I think.”

  “How many subscribers do you have?”

  “Uh, I don’t know… I rarely publish, and truthfully, I never paid attention to that type of detail.”

  “It’s important that you maximize the number of subscribers. For your information, a large part of the budget is generated by the mediatization of the mission, and we are counting on this type of detail, so the mission can be broadcast to the greatest number of people. This will be a decisive point when selecting the candidates. Only the most influential will be retained.”

  “Understood,” replied Claire, slightly embarrassed to have disappointed them on this critical point.

  After asking the same question about her Facebook profile, Sandy sighed and crossed out something on her tablet, then she turned to the next page. Claire felt a small drop of sweat bead on her forehead, which she tried to hide by pretending to fix her hair.

  “Are you nervous right now?” asked Friedric.

  “Who wouldn’t be?” she replied with a smile.

  “The trip to Mars will not be all fun and games. How will you manage the daily stress?”

  “I internalize a lot, and sports help me decompress. I am a determined fighter, and stress is a technicality that doesn’t keep me from reaching my goals.”

  “Interesting,” responded Sandy, as she scribbled a word at the top of a page. “What do you know about the planet Mars?”