Mother of Mars (Whispers of A Planet Book 1) Read online

  “Agreed, I don’t want to set another foot down there unless I have to.” Markus adds assuredly. “It would be great for us to have all that extra water for use here, but I don’t want to disturb that place any more that we have to. Unless it tries to drown another person, I could care less.”

  Cecil lay quietly, listening to the others talk. The room goes awkwardly silent before Cecil can draw up the courage to speak again. “That reverberation we experienced down there… I just can’t get it out of my mind.”

  “Not a day goes by that it doesn’t haunt my dreams either, buddy.” Markus concurs.

  “That’s the thing. I think… I heard it, felt it. It felt like it was real, just like if I were there again. I don’t know how to describe it.” Cecil says blankly, experiencing the awkward hesitation from the other two. “It was so distant… but… it was unmistakably the same.”

  “Are you talking about your attack the other night? Is that what this is about?” Agrippa speaks, concerned.

  “My attack? Even if you call it that, like I had temporarily lost control, I know what I felt.”

  “Something like that again? You couldn’t have been the only one to feel it.” Agrippa says, Markus humming in agreement. “If there was any other strange activity involving the pool, people would know about it. With everyone down there now, it wouldn’t be a secret for long. I haven’t heard of any contact from them since last night, but I can stop by station control. Are you sure it wasn’t a bad dream? Perhaps you’re still out of it. You need to rest your mind too if you want to properly recover.” Agrippa sounds defeated. “You’ve been in a coma for a long time, Cecil. They said sometimes when you’re unconscious like that, you pick up on things going on about you, hear what people are saying. They become one with your dreams and make you think crazy things.”

  Cecil glares in Agrippa’s direction. “Are you saying I’m crazy, Agrippa?”

  “No, I think you’re just tired. You’re tired of this place, tired of the work, the mental and physical strain. Many of us are. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise, allowing you to get away from all this.”

  “What do you mean allowing me?” Cecil speaks indignantly. “Do you know something about the launch?”

  “We’ve been through this.” Agrippa sighs. “All I know is that the ship is leaving sometime soon. It’s not up to me whether you go back on it or not. That’s between you, Cassius, and what he hears from Mission Control back on Earth. Get some sleep, and think about what you really want… no… what you need to do. I’m sure if you reach a decision for yourself, Cassius will take it into consideration. For now, don’t let the bad dreams worry you. More so, don’t think about what you feel this place needs. Think about what you need, as a person.”

  “I can’t argue with that, Cecil. I’ll be seeing you, buddy.” Markus gets the last word in. The medical bay door whooshes closed as the pair of heavy footsteps disappear behind it.

  The Price of Deciding

  Cecil remained propped up in the bed. Sleep refused to reach him. He flexes his leg muscles under the covers. They had slowly begun to regain proper feeling after the nurse had massaged and stretched them for him. A feeling of hunger rests in the pit of his stomach… or perhaps it was the butterflies, lingering on the word ‘decision’ that Agrippa had spoken of.

  Leaning his head back, facing upwards, he exposes himself to the glaring lights mounted on the ceiling, piercing the grey cloudy veil of his vision. Blinking into the glow gives him brief refuge from the light, but the grainy feeling of his eyelids wears on his nerves. Abandoning the cause, he drapes his free arm across his face to block out some of the light.

  “Cecil, please be careful of your skin grafts.” The nurse’s voice calls out to him.

  He sets his arm down, trying to scan for the source of her voice, noticing the light dim out gradually. Giving a sigh of relief, he speaks out to her. “Thank you.”

  “No, I apologize.” He voice is sweet and calm. “I had left it on to do some paperwork, and I forgot that you must be sensitive to the light.”

  Cecil pauses to listen to her voice before speaking again. “Nurse, do you think I’ll ever get my sight back?”

  “Well.” She pauses hesitantly. “In your case, corneal transplants would be available, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Nobody here is qualified to do such an operation, and additionally we would have to acquire an appropriate donor…” She explains solemnly.

  “I understand… something like that is… I understand.”

  “You must be tired. Would you like me to lay you down, Cecil?” She asks.

  “Please, I think I could sleep for a bit…”

  ____

  Cecil awakes to the feeling of the bed being propped up once again, twitching in response to the sudden stimuli.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you? You’ve been asleep for several hours now, and my shift is going to end soon.” The nurse’s voice is the same as before. Cecil groans groggily. “It’s time for me to put some ointment on your face before I leave. We’ve been talking and moving around a lot recently, haven’t we? The grafts are going to feel tight on your face, and we don’t want them being strained or drying out.” Her soothing tone feels reassuring to him. Cecil had only been to the medical bay maybe two or three times since arriving on the planet, and he didn’t really have a face to put to her voice.

  He feels her body heat as she leans down on the side of the bed. She lightly touches his cheeks as she massages in the cold, oily ointment, working her way up to his forehead. He had been instructed not to touch his face, and had managed to do so despite the strange itchy, crawly sensations he had. Her soft fingertips brush against his scalp and he realized that his head had been shaven. He had always had it buzzed fairly short, but never completely bald.

  “Nurse?”

  “Hmm?” She lets out a hum, focusing on the job at hand.

  “Am I hideous?” There is a slight tinge of pain in his voice.

  Her hands stop. Cecil feels her body heat move away slightly, as if stepping back to take a look at him. The nurse doesn’t respond.

  “I mean, without hair. Do I look like a Mr. Potato Head?” Cecil asks, playfully.

  She lets out a giggle. “You look like a million bucks.”

  “Of medical procedures, that is.” Markus’s voice comes from the direction of the doorway. The nurse scoffs. “Just stopped by station control. Cassius wanted me to pass it along that he wants to see you as soon as you’re okay to get up and walk around on your own. Just don’t trip or run into anything, smashing up that beautiful mug of yours.”

  Cecil hears the nurse shoo Markus away, the doors closing behind him before she returns to his side. “Why can’t he come down here by himself? I’m sure the commander can take some time out from pulling on his beard for one moment to pass by the medical bay for once.” She complains. “Well, in any case, it would be good to get you up and moving again. Shall we give it a try?”

  Cecil nods weakly in response, feeling a jolt of excitement and anxiety up through his legs and into his stomach. The nurse pulls back the covers resting on top of him, allowing him to slide to the edge of the bed. The air in the room is slightly cold, but Cecil can feel her warmth across from him. The nurse grabs his waist, helping him turn to sideways, dangling his legs off the side of the bed. She moves her hand up, grabbing at his. Her skin is soft. Gently, Cecil pushes her hand back and grasps at the edge of the hospital bed. The cold metal of the lowered railing touches his thighs. The nurse grabs at his shoulder and gently pulls him forwards.

  Cecil brushes off her hand once again and slides forward, stretching his toes to the cold metal floor. He hefts himself off the bed to place his feet squarely on the ground, holding onto the bed for stability. He can feel the nurse’s presence in front of him, guarding him if he happened to make a fall forwards.

  A sharp feeling of vertigo washes over him. Even though he can’t see the floor, his feet feel as if t
hey are meters below him. Déjà vu strikes as he remembers standing at the edge of the pool just before falling in. Unable to shake the feeling, he quickly grabs tightly onto the corner of the mattress and pulls himself back up.

  “No good, huh? We can try again later. Just let me or one of the other nurses know before, okay?” The nurse helps him swing his legs back up and under the covers. Cecil shifts around. His limbs feel as if they had weights strapped to them. “Just hit the button if you need anything.”

  “What then?” Cecil calls out before she has a chance to leave his side. “I feel like there’s no means to an end for me. Even when I get back to my feet, I’ll still be just a feeble, good for nothing. That’s what my father said too, that I’m good for nothing.”

  “That’s not something a father should say, Cecil.” The nurse rebuts.

  Cecil focuses at the bright spot above him, the faint orange glow radiating from the light fixture. “I remember when I used to hang out at my father’s shop when I was a kid. I had just learned how to use the acetylene torch and was enjoying cutting apart every piece of scrap metal I could get my hands on. Of course, my father drilled into me how important wearing eye protection was. One day, the guys were working on something that had come into the shop and I couldn’t find any extra gear to use. Whatever, right? I just put on some regular sunglasses and went at it.

  The torch was almost too bright to look at. Like… trying to look up at the sun. Even after a few seconds, I could tell something wasn’t right. My eyes were sore and there was a big white spot in my vision. They call it a flash burn. Well, later that night it got worse, like someone had rubbed sandpaper on my eyes. I got awful headaches too, it went on for days. I was scared. Not because I thought I hurt myself. I was scared of my dad… I knew he would be angry out of his mind for not heeding his warning. One day after school my mom found me lying on my bed crying from the dull pain that I thought would never end. My dad came home later that night and figured out what had happened. He hit me and yelled a lot. It was worse than the flash burn. I felt his disappointment, rather than just the senseless anger that he usually had. Eventually my vision got better, but I could never forget the sting of my father’s hand, both on my face and on my psyche. That’s what I feel right now. I wouldn’t be in this position if I had just stuck to the mission down there. I really messed up.”

  “Cecil…” The nurse lets out a soft sigh. “It was an accident, just that. Even Agrippa has said so. As for you father… I could never imagine saying that to a child, let along your own son. Nobody should be subjected to abuse like that.” She stutters for a moment. “No, excuse me. Perhaps it’s not my place to say such a thing.” Cecil feels her hands brush against his, then pull back. “Hey, some of the guys heard you had woken up. They asked about you when I ran into them. When you feel ready to get up and walk around, we can get you out for a bit. They would be happy to see you, and you can take a break from this place for a bit.”

  “Before that I need to see Cassius.” Cecil says, apprehensive.

  “That’s true, but make him hear you out. That man has no power over how he can make you feel, Cecil. That’s up to you. You should walk in there and tell him what you think.”

  “And what exactly do I think? What should I think?”

  “I think by the time you find your footing, you will have had plenty of time to think about that. You’ll find the strength to tell Cassius what you believe. Perhaps as you walk up to the door to speak to him, the answer will appear before you. At any rate, doing anything besides just rotting in here will do you good. Remember, the only way you can fail is if you never try. At least, that’s how I feel.”

  The nurse turns once again to leave. Her footsteps trail out but her words echo in Cecil’s mind.

  Cassius

  With a satisfying rip, Cecil pulls the zipper of the jumpsuit up to his neck, the collar resting just below his Adam’s Apple. The rough, starchy material feels slightly baggier than he remembers.

  “You don’t want me to call anybody? I’m sure someone would love to come and help you.” The nurse speaks softly, holding Cecil’s fingers in her palm. He takes a few steps forward, guided by the feeling of her hand.

  “I’ve walked these halls more times than I can count.” Cecil speaks confidently. “Station control is in this block after all, and it’s the biggest set of doors. I can find it, thank you.”

  Cecil shifts forward slowly before reaching the wall of the medical bay, touching the cold polycarbonate of the door. He feels the rubbery seal pushing up against the door jamb, and his fingers trace the panels of the wall before he could find the button to open it.

  “Just don’t exert yourself, okay?” The nurse grabs his arm to hold in hers for a split second. Cecil feels her warmth. Holding his fingers over the button, he hesitates. Before he can depress it himself, her hand slides over his to push it in. The squeak of the door that he had become so accustomed to comes to his ears.

  “I can’t say I’ll miss this place, but…” Cecil says, trailing off.

  “I understand. Whatever news you get there, I hope this isn’t the last time I see you here, though. Not like that, I mean.” She stumbles on her words.

  “I understand.” Cecil holds back a laugh. “I don’t intend to hurt myself again.” The nurse gives him a slightly forceful push out into the hallway, and the doors quickly shut behind him.

  The glow of the medical ward lights disappears as he steps into the conservatively lit hallway. Cecil feels a sinking feeling in his heart as he knows he will have to make do without his sight. He clumsily grasps out for the wall, fingertips hitting the cold metal.

  Cecil hadn’t been to the station control many times, but there wasn’t much between there and the medical bay. His hand drags across the wall, occasionally encountering grates, panels, and rough rivets. Footsteps approach him from down the hallway. A person squeezes past him in the narrow corridor, otherwise seeming to completely to ignore him.

  The dark compartment continues. Cecil shifts to the other wall which was just beyond his arm’s reach from the other side. Carefully counting his footsteps and taking note of every corner and intersection, Cecil continues to feel his way along the halls, dimly lit as usual. Every few feet another individual light passes by on the ceiling. This part of the structure was modestly populated. Mainly it was a destination only if you had business, be it at the medical bay, the communications rooms, or system control.

  The cold walkway creaks under each step. He can feel the structure alive just beyond the paneling, carrying ventilation, power lines, and water. There is a distinct hum inside the station as a result. The med bay seemed eerily silent in comparison.

  Cecil stumbles, realizing he had lost track of his steps, becoming consumed in thought. In the distance, there is a distinct white glow, different than the orange lights normally illuminating the hall. Only a few rooms, he remembered, were marked like that.

  Guiding himself along the wall, he feels around, finally meeting a cold, metal door. The material seems heavier than that of the others. Beside it, built into the paneling is a familiar touch pad. He presses his hand against the grimy feeling hand sensor, breathing heavily. His legs tremble slightly as he hesitates to activate it.

  Before he can act, a familiar voice speaks faintly on the other side of the door. “I understand he’s a valuable team member.” Agrippa seems to be pleading with someone. “I just don’t think it’s wise to keep him here.”

  Shifting over to the door, Cecil puts his ear on the surface. Another voice mumbles loudly in response. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Swallowing hard, Cecil shoves his hand into the sensor, and the door opens before him in a swift movement. The conversation stops suddenly.

  Inside the stuffy room, there is a faint hum of computer equipment. Fans poorly churn air about the room, creating a low hum that rings in Cecil’s ears. His nostrils flare to the faint smell of body odor, pungent like someone who had been sitting at a desk o
r computer all day, rather than the musky smell of someone out doing physical labor. Someone by Cecil’s side whispers loudly. It is overtaken by a loud, coarse voice.

  “Well god damn, if it isn’t Ruiz. Speak of the devil.” The man roars. A loud, harsh laugh follows.

  Standing stiffly at attention, Cecil rubs his fingers together nervously. The flickering of the computer screens in the room is unnerving. The laugh ends abruptly. The voices on the side of the room are now silent. “I apologize… I was just speaking to Agrippa here about your situation. It’s good that you’re here now to weigh in.” The commander’s apology feels vaguely sincere. Cassius clears his throat. “How was your vacation in the medical bay? Are you feeling well enough to get back out there?”

  Cecil freezes up, the lines he had planned on saying are now erased from his mind. They are replaced by a jumble of words echoing in his head.

  “Cecil.” Agrippa calls out to him.

  “Well?” Cassius adds impatiently.

  “I mean, I want to.” Cecil finally answers. “Sir, I just…”

  “You can cut the ‘sir’ business. Spit it out.” The commander taps his foot loudly against the metal flooring. Cecil feels weak in the knees, the warmth of the room engulfing him. The buzzing of the computers around him are gnawing, dissonant.

  “Respectfully sir, I don’t know how to answer you. Agrippa says there’s a ship preparing for launch. He says that there’s space for passengers. Beyond that he doesn’t want to tell me anything. I want to know the truth. Do you plan to put me on it, sir?” Cecil lets out a wavering sigh.

  Agrippa grunts, as if to say something, but is interrupted by Cassius. “Do you want to be on it, Ruiz?” He asks forcefully.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You do know. Down in your gut, you know. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? Don’t waste my time.” Cassius says crassly, his chair seeming to squeal in pain as he shifts around.