Prologue

 

Each dawn vanquished stars from the bright morning as always it had. But a day came when one of these stars persisted in the sky. Though at first a merest point of red it soon began to grow, soon to contest the natural light of day. As the planet turned, this new star arose and set as did the parent sun, and with the passing days its angry brightness grew. It crossed the sky with baleful presence, a brazen intruder casting harsh light over land and sea. And though the new star was never to challenge the parent sun’s intensity, winds of fearsome strength were born with tides arisen to unprecedented height. The star continued on its way, leaving chaos in its wake. It began to diminish, receding through the span of time in which it had at first appeared, dimming to a merest point until it was altogether gone. Yet its passing had bestowed a fatal legacy, a basic universal force that already was at work.

Time flowed on but with it came ominous change. Through the seasons and through the years the world grew cooler, the parent sun declined by barely perceptible measure, its bounty of heat and light all the while lessening. Passing ages brought ever darkening days, icy seas and freezing air. Eventually, endless nights of frigid stillness ruled though that once benign sun, now distant but still the brightest feature of the heavens, arose and set as if to bid farewell to a world that had once coursed within its domain, a world condemned now to frozen desolation. 

Chapter 1 - Planet X

 

‘In an infinite universe there must be infinite possibilities for life. Whatever life forms are possible will somewhere have evolved and must continue to do so.’

I don’t recall who made that claim but after my experiences on Mars a few short years ago - Earth years, that is, and just for now I’ll stick with those, and more recently on Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, I’d believe every word of it. And that’s just within our own solar system.

Our journey to Titan on the then advanced DSV, that is Deep Space Vehicle, Orion, had been the first human venture beyond Mars orbit to the outer planets. But here I am once more on Mars, a cold, harsh desert world maybe, but permanent home to tens of thousands of humans, all physiologically adjusted to our gravity which is little more than a third that of the home planet. The majority of them have never set foot on Earth. And if you’re not too familiar with the hard facts of life out here then let me remind you how our unbreathable atmosphere is so thin, the air pressure so low, that on most of the surface, water ice will sublimate from its solid state to vapour. That’s right, water boils directly from being frozen. Then there’s our surface temperature averaging around minus sixty Celsius - plunging as low as minus one-forty at the South Pole in winter with a passing high of almost thirty recorded on rare occasions at the equator. 

So maybe you’re wondering why people choose to live on what some have described as a glorified rust ball. Well there are a number of reasons for that. It began, of course, with scientific research and a quest to find life, then human visits with bases being set up where sub-surface water was easily accessed and supplies to sustain life shipped over from the home planet. But soon enough people realised they would have to become self-reliant and not exist in caves or the pressurised metal shells of used rockets with little more than a desire to get back to a cosier existence Earth-side. In order to encourage their staying power, Earth shipped out heavy building equipment programmed to do much of the hard work while directed by the would-be residents. The first permanent, as with all later bases, had foundations of basalt, and there’s enough of that around. But of prime importance were the biodomes. These were grown organically upwards with that seemingly miracle material, Bioplast. Although modest in size at first, these transparent domes enabled our budding colonists to grow food in a near enough to Earth-like environment and that helped to kill off those crazy ideas some people had dreamt up, before anything sent out from Earth ever landed here, about terraforming the planet. That is, or was, trying to make it into another Earth. But that was many years ago so I can now talk in Martian years, each one being six hundred and eighty seven days; getting on for twice one Earth year. Newcomers joke by expressing their age in Martian years to make themselves sound younger. I seldom think about it since age, old or otherwise, isn’t what it used to be. You can’t be certain of a person’s age by their looks any more.

Okay, this seems a good time to introduce myself: I’m Brett Anderson, ex-military back on Earth but on Mars I’m now Commander Anderson because I’ve been given, or taken, command of several operations. But what’s in a title? Out here you turn your hand to anything that needs it so as titles don’t always matter and formalities are not so important, I’m just Brett unless someone feels I ought to be labelled otherwise. Our advances in self-sufficiency began what might be called a scramble with the various powers on Earth, including the United American States, wanting to grab their choice of territory on the red planet so they could mine those elements increasingly rare on Earth and on her moon. Our bases, together with mining and manufacturing facilities proliferated rapidly, in part because Mars, having no oceans, has roughly the same land space as Earth, and because deserts are not as easy to mess up as are forests, fields and seas. The International Space Station was set up in orbit to house emergency supplies, to deal with those rockets from Earth not intended to land on Mars and to handle shuttles whose purpose was to carry their personnel and cargoes to and from the surface. The ISS eventually grew as large as any of those orbiting the home planet and its commander, Amalia Barbosa, who we’ll meet later, eventually became and remains still our official ambassador to Earth.

We’ve had our disasters; one major event brought about by the interference of outside interests on Earth when a highly advanced but well concealed life-form was discovered on our red planet. It was not hostile though it seemed that way to begin with and many people died before we properly understood what we were dealing with. But these matters I’ve covered elsewhere and because of what happened, Mars, by then a going concern for its human population, gained her independence, no longer to be ruled as a collection of colonies by diverse commercial interests on Earth but as an integrated trading partner. And we had as president, elected overwhelmingly, a man who had dedicated much of his working life to the colonies and oversaw the expansion of our own base, Novamerica Five, where he still resides. I could understand if Joe van Allen, a grey-haired, tall and slightly stooping man decided to calculate his age in Martian years because some claim that back on Earth he’d be well over a hundred even though he looks no more than sixty something. You may have realised by the name that Novamerica Five was one of the bases established by the UAS, the United American States, but no one after independence got around to renaming most of them, regardless of who they once belonged to. I use the term, bases, to describe our communities but that is out of habit: some of those so-called bases have grown to resemble small towns, including that from which Joe holds office.

I was piloting wingships much of the time, carrying cargo and personnel, this before the new propulsion system developed on Earth put turbine powered wingships, as well as interplanetary rockets, out of business. Flying long distances about our planet suited me then because on many occasions I would be alone with my thoughts. I’d become absorbed with the scenery by day, which I populated with my own fantasies, and the stars at night that had me dreaming of what might lie out there. Pilots were of course unnecessary but personnel travelling from place to place preferred to see someone who appeared to be in charge; someone who would listen to their complaints. Like a good many others, I chose to remain on Mars for the kind of freedom and opportunities not so readily available on bustling, overcrowded and overregulated Earth.

Joe, our president, has long been a close friend and proved a father figure to me. He pulled a fast one over me a few short years back, not long before we faced the near disaster to which I just referred. Figuring I’d been unattached for too long, Joe matched my time schedules at base with visits by a young Swedish woman with long, corn-blond hair and an appealing, blue-eyed smile. She was a planetary scientist then working on Mars for the Europeans, her name, Karin Blomdahl. She often would show up when I was with Joe in one of the biodome cafés then Joe would find some reason to leave us alone together. By the time I’d realised what he was about it was too late, I was hooked. As things turned out I didn’t blame him, no; at least she was genuinely as young and attractive as she looked and very soon other people around the base were commenting upon what they saw as my good fortune. I’ll admit now, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me and we’ve been through more dangers together than we could ever have anticipated. And that was not to end. Karin had been away from base for much of the time undertaking research for a project in which we and others were soon to become deeply involved.

Until recent events took over, Joe had wanted to press forward his plans for the first Mars museum, a pet project of his ever since our independence and one he’d asked me to help organise. The surface of Mars was littered with landers and rovers sent out from Earth, some dating way back to the nineteen seventies and I had already undertaken survey work. His idea was to have collected the most important of these by suitable means then place them on display under a biodome in one of our equatorial regions, or perhaps in an extension of some kind at our own base. Okay, there would never be hoards of visitors as would be the case on Earth, but the museum would reinforce our identity and represent human preoccupation with, and eventually the colonisation, of Mars. Joe was convinced Earth would demand some of these relics back but I couldn’t see him allowing that. True that when on Titan we had recovered the Huygens lander by request of the Europeans but no one was going to try and live on Titan; at least no one in their right mind. There might, though, be temporary visits from anyone involved in the otherwise automated recovery of hydrocarbons from its frigid methane seas.

With time to spare, Karin and I were taking lunch in one of the smaller biodome cafes beneath a cluster of trees and away from the busy central pathway and fountain area. Close by fluttered colourful birds which, like the less obvious insect community, were all programmed to interact with, pollinate and help maintain our plant life but in most cases never to leave the biodome through any of its airlocks. The spiderbots, bots, spiders or whatever people wanted to call them, were allocated to keeping things tidy at ground level and were occasionally seen to scurry by with antennae waving. Playing their role, too, were the more obvious and openly friendly rodent-like creatures with soft fur and big brown eyes. Karin joked about my treating one as a pet since it would occasionally come running over and play at being affectionate when we entered the biodome.

After a stroll that day, arm in arm around the biodome perimeter path, we stopped for a time to gaze out across the sunlit Martian desert. We decided to take our minds off forthcoming events with the use of virtual reality and wander around the Uffizi gallery in Florence. Yes, you could find yourself back almost anywhere on Earth if the mood took you, without the crowds, unless you wanted to call them in as well. These facilities, available to all at every base, made living on Mars a lot easier for some. We were making our way through the biodome main airlock into the administration area when my left earlobe pinged. I reached to touch it and Joe’s voice came through. ‘Hi Brett, sorry to cut in when you’re both down there relaxing but maybe you could get around to my office some time soon.’

‘Sure,’ I replied, ‘We were off to Italy for one of our art trips but we can do that another time. Be with you in a couple of minutes.’

‘That’ll be great. I knew you’d be with Karin and seeing you together will be of prime importance - and the coffee will be on.’

‘I take it that was Joe,’ Karin smiled, ‘and he wishes to see us both - yes?’

‘He sure does and he’ll want to swap updates on what we’ve learned and from you in particular. We can satisfy our artistic urges later.’

Yes, there were matters afoot that would sideline Joe’s plans for the museum. We headed up to the next floor and along the passage to Joe’s office, now his centre of planet-wide communications. There the door stood ajar. The first president of a united Mars he might be but Joe, unassuming as always, was not one to keep his friends and co-workers at bay. We entered to find him gazing through the Armaplast screen, this another material developed for use on Mars as well as elsewhere, and out across the runway where the wingships, including my own, used to arrive and depart. With the new propulsion systems, those days were largely gone so a good part of our runway, as with most of those on Mars, no longer needed to be cleared of wind-blown sand.

Joe turned and smiled, ‘Hi, you two,’ and gestured for us to sit. ‘Coffee right now?’ he asked, easing down to face us. He needn’t have asked because we never turned down the offer. The machine close by was already bubbling and ready to dispense what we asked for. Also close by was that ornate nineteenth century mechanical clock of Joe’s that kept time, so he claimed, with his home town back on Earth. He boasted that it was the only one of its kind on Mars and no one doubted that. It might have been useless here anyway as the Martian day is twenty four hours and thirty-seven minutes long. As the coffees slid over to us the clock pinged five times and that had me wondering if any other old clocks like it, in the appropriate time zone all those millions of kilometres away on Earth, were right then doing the same thing. Joe appeared relaxed but Karin and I knew this was to be no easygoing chat about his museum project.

‘Let’s go over once more what we know about this mysterious world,’ he began. ‘We’d all heard about a large object people for some time thought was hanging about way beyond our outer planets. Astronomers back on Earth had for long speculated about a ninth body, a so-called Planet X, that some claimed was responsible for minor disturbances in the orbits of Neptune and Pluto. They spent a great deal of time searching but as no one ever found anything like that, interest on Earth waned.’ Turning his attention fully to Karin he added, ‘but due mainly to your efforts we here on Mars did find something, didn’t we.’

‘We or our system certainly did,’ she agreed, ‘and it turned out Planet X really does exist. Ever since you assigned me to it my small team and I have continued to gather as much information as possible. Poor Brett here must have been wondering for a time why I’d been up at the space station observatory for days on end.’

‘That’s right,’ I said, ‘but I appreciate you had your duties and on such occasions I had to play the innocent bystander.’

‘Well not for much longer,’ said Joe. ‘Karin, bring us both up to date; there will be a few things I’m still in the dark about though I’m sure by now you’ll have passed the latest details to Brett.’

Karin finished her coffee, glanced at me then began, ‘Okay, earlier this year, after our observatory received its final upgrades, we learned quite a bit more about this so-called Planet X.’

‘And that’s why I’ve had a few lonely nights,’ I muttered.

‘Sorry, Brett,’ she smiled, but -.’

‘No it’s entirely my fault for pushing you on,’ cut in Joe.

‘Oh, he’ll get over it won’t you, dear,’ she smiled, reaching to pat my arm.

Sure I’d get over it but for now, this Planet X, as I’d already learned from Karin, had never been a true part of our Solar System. In other words it’s what we’d call a rogue planet, one torn from orbit around its parent sun, maybe by another passing star, then left to drift alone through the frigid void of empty space.

‘For a long time’ resumed Karin, ‘well before anyone came to Mars, attention had been focussed more upon the furthest reaches of the universe as well as the moons of our outer planets where primitive life forms were eventually discovered. But here on Mars, because our orbit takes us somewhat closer to the outer limits of our system, we were able to look deeper into the Kuiper Belt, that hoard of icy rocks and asteroids beyond Neptune that sweep around our sun between thirty and over sixty times further out than Earth. What we found close to the edge of this was our mystery planet. It’s obscured part of the time so we had to look long and hard but now we have the basic statistics. Our Planet X is at present well over sixty times further out from the sun than is Earth - that’s around ten thousand million kilometres, which means light from the sun takes around nine hours to reach it as against only eight minutes for Earth and an average of thirteen for Mars. I say at present because although it has an orbit which, if stable, would give it a year of around five-five-eight Earth years, that orbit is far from stable. Planet X is brushing the very edge of our solar system and ready to begin its outward journey.’

‘But for how long,’ Joe asked, ‘d’you think this rogue planet has been hanging around our back yard? I understand it’s a fairly recent arrival.’

‘We can’t be precise right now,’ she replied, ‘but only years and probably not many. What surprises me is that its approach was never detected; perhaps because it was in the same plane as the Kuiper Belt. It looks to be a little greater than Earth-size at just over thirteen thousand kilometres diameter but with a slightly shorter rotation period of just over twenty-one and a half hours. It’s of slightly lower mass but anyone standing there would feel little difference in the gravity because that’s only some ten percent less than on Earth. Average surface temperature hovers a little above minus two hundred Celsius so whatever seas it once had will lie frozen, with water ice set strong as steel.’

‘Has Mars sounding like the Mediterranean,’ I remarked.

‘Doesn’t it so,’ she continued, ‘The feedback we’re getting would suggest as well that Planet X is still tectonically active with at least the volcanic activity of Earth and it has a stronger magnetic field. The mainly nitrogen atmosphere is only a little thinner than Earth’s but the fact that conditions there are not cold enough for this to freeze tells us Planet X is giving out sufficient heat of its own. We detected also traces of oxygen, methane and most importantly dimethyl sulphide.’

‘Dimethyl sulphide?’ I muttered.

‘Yes, dear, dimethyl sulphide in case you’ve forgotten. This is strongly associated with living organisms which makes it quite possible higher life forms once did exist there.’

‘Are you saying there could have been intelligent life,’ Joe asked.

‘Maybe things that found clever ways of killing each other like they did on Earth?’ I added.

‘Yes, Brett,’ she responded with mock disapproval, ‘so I hope you’re taking all of this in.’

‘Of course,’ I shrugged.

‘So what kind of life might be or have been possible there?’ asked Joe.

‘Yes, what kind of life,’ Karin replied. ‘Right now we can only guess. There are, of course, no transmissions of any kind and perhaps never were. The planet is, or was Earth-like and many of the most hostile places on Earth and beyond do support life even if we regard much of it as pretty basic. What we’ve so far discovered about our Planet X is quite amazing but it throws up far more questions than answers. So think, if intelligent life did evolve there it’s possible that when this planet was cast adrift from its parent star the inhabitants might have taken measures to preserve their kind - and if that was so, how and for how long did they succeed? That really is why we need to go there.’

‘Very well’ said Joe. ‘But now I must make it clear to you both - if we’re going to get to Xenonia, Earth is still to be involved. More coffee anyone?’

‘Get to -!’ I queried, as my cup refilled. ‘Even with Orion, the ship that took us to Titan, this would involve one hell of a time. And what did you just call it - Xenonia? Who proposed that name?’ Karin looked as puzzled as I must have; Xenon was - is after all an inert gas like neon or argon.

Joe, leaning back in his chair, smiled sheepishly and replied, ‘Well, er, I did. Back on Earth as well as here some people might call this kind of thing Planet X but that is so clichéd I figured we ought to come up with something better. A name like Xenonia was long ago proposed for another Kuiper Belt object but they later ditched it. Xenon, being a non-reactive gas, was once regarded as strange. The name itself is derived from the ancient Greek word for a stranger and from that we derive the modern term, ‘xenophobia,’ a fear of strangers, and a stranger is what this intrusive world is - a stranger not all that far outside our Solar System in astronomical terms. But I’m open to ideas if either of you have any of your own.’

‘I think it’s a perfectly good name,’ smiled Karin, ‘and I see no reason to change it. What do you say, Brett?’

‘Sure, I’ll go along with that, Joe, but why is Earth to be involved and though I’m game for anything you want me to take on how d’you expect anyone or anything from Mars or Earth to get to that far out in realistic time? Even if it had the resources of Titan and wasn’t about to drift off somewhere else the sheer distance would make exploitation impractical. Why don’t we send a dozen or so bots out there to take a general survey from orbit then maybe drop down to the surface for a closer look?’

‘You’ll see,’ replied Joe, ‘when I bring you up to date with my side of things. Let’s consider first what we already know: the discovery of how to harness and reverse the effect of that long time mystery force called Dark Matter gave us the ability, in effect, to concentrate, to reverse and employ gravity itself as a means of propelling vessels through space with the aid of modified hyperdrives. Capable as she was, Orion was going to be updated because technology is moving as quick as it ever did. The UAS was already planning an update of Orion when you and your team were heading out to Titan. But the UAS is in a political tangle after their elections with Brazil threatening to pull out of the Union because they don’t see eye to eye with the new president in Washington. It was always a pretty shaky affair anyway but it won’t deter their interest in Planet X. Meanwhile, and this is not public knowledge even on Earth, development of their new hyperdrive has stalled for a time and that’s allowed the Europeans to come up with something even more advanced. Trouble is they don’t yet have anything to match Orion. She was a UAS project they hoped to latch into but we kept hold of her when you returned from Titan. So we have the fully equipped and well tested deep space vehicle and the Europeans have their new hyperdrive intended for a home in the likes of Orion with at least two more hyperdrives nearing completion.’

‘Two more?’ I queried.

‘Yes but I’ll get around to that in a minute or so. A while back I, with the approval of the heads of all main communities on Mars, concluded our final agreement with the European Federation. I’d been in confidential, that is encrypted talks with them for some time. What we agreed is to be implemented with utmost haste since they believe the Russians and the Asians may soon be hot on our tail and in particular the UAS, though about them there’s been nothing more said of late and that has me wondering. The Europeans are to ship the two additional hyperdrives out here by cargo vessel together with a crew of three nominated to join you. They agreed that we would install the first hyperdrive inside Orion in a power core designed by ourselves to accommodate it. This can be done right here wholly within our own facilities. The cargo ship has an older version so we’ll then fit her out with the second drive.’

‘Why don’t they fit out the cargo ship back on Earth since it’s theirs?’ I asked.

‘Because, so they tell me, we will have solved any problems when doing so with Orion. What they might have meant is, they think we ought to be doing more since we’ll be getting the initial publicity through yourselves now they don’t have access to Orion. The third completed hyperdrive is being installed inside what they refer to as their service vessel as this was designed from the very beginning to accept it and to accompany Orion if they’d had the opportunity. The service vessel contains a laboratory, a basic materials plant from which to manufacture additional food supplies should that prove necessary plus a general supplies and basic accommodation unit. This vessel does not, of course, have Orion’s capabilities for exploration and overall control nor is it, unlike the cargo vessel, designed to carry a crew in long term comfort. Okay, we’ve gone this far except for one more thing we haven’t touched upon yet.’