Aurelius Ascends (part 3)

At first, the crew thought that what was likely happening to their craft right now was nothing more than a minor navigational anomaly, a glitch, as they had begun sensing a very subtle gravitational tug over the last hour, something that all of the crew, apart from one absent member, had been starting to feel as a slowly growing vibration through the underside artificial gravity plating areas, which , while this would certainly account for the sudden ‘light spring in their steps,’ it was definitely not one that could have explained away the navigational gremlins they were experiencing with their shipwide instrumentation panels though.

The crew's captain, Mara, who had gone off for a break a few hours ago to her cabin, had not even made a single reappearence yet. She'd not as much changed position in her bunk. If any of her crew had checked on her, they would have discovered here to be in what could only be described as comatose, in a trance-like state. Something that had infiltrated Aurelius had been transmitted in that beam that had taken hold of her cognitive functioning; to all intense purposes Mara believed she had never left earth, and was living through the economic crisis back home, and a sudden earthquake that her and everybody else in the apartment block who seemed to be experiencing too.

Yet the unplanned alteration to their journey through deep space, now far from Earth, was a probable cause that resulted from the months it had already taken for the crew to travel this far deep into the increasing vacuum of outer space; at this stage it wouldn’t be uncommon for the initially pre-programmed navigational computers to drift away from Aurelius’s primary programmed trajectory, (which would have been coded well over a year or more while still back on earth).

The sheer time spent running multi-level activities all this time without any major diagnostic systems checks and software updates, since leaving low-earth orbit, could have easily result in more than one or two failed nanochips, or several burned-out fiber-optical cables: as the nuclear-powered engines were still only experimental, and could easily have blown out numerous circuitry or far worse. Of course, the shielding between the direct engines and the additional three internal bulkheads were designed to be more than effective at preventing a potential overheat scenario of the electrical systems behind those bulkheads. Yet, without the full operational abilities of the spaceship's computer-human sensory interface systems, the crew would remain blissfully unaware... leaving both ship and crew running totally blind.

However, if that was the cause of the malfunctions, and it were to be an actual radioactive leak, it wasn’t something that could easily be rectified without requiring two crew to suit up, and then slowly and carefully crawl along the external hull. But right at that moment another quite unexpected situation occurred; the pulse had now threaded itself through the ship’s systems with an almost unmistakable intent, tightening like a hand closing around their combined wrists.

Aurelius shuddered, as if the engines were about to seize up, not sharply, but definitely decisively, as if something, or someone, had suddenly taken control. Crew had attempted to rouse her over the internal comms, but without success, and with the problems they already faced, there was nobody spared to physically leave the control room right now to check in on her.

So the decision to suit up and exit via the double airlock in the exo-suits room was made, leaving the two specially trained crew with no feasible alternative. Effectively, the ship and crew were flying blind, and without being successful in rousing the captain, this was their only remaining option.

The two crew members assisted each other to suit up and check their oxygen hoses were securely connected, and clicked the ten second delay for the primary airlock door to open, as they entered, it rapidly slid closed behind them with a resounding click, followed by a red glow within the chamber activating automatically around them, immediately followed by a thirty second purple display panel on the outer airlock, displaying the countdown as the air equalization warning sounded with a loud confirming hiss, as the oxygen was sucked out of the chamber prior to the final outer airlock opening. Both crew members gave the 'thumbs up' to confirm their airtanks were operating normally.

The time arrived, the red light changed to green as the two members, now belted to themselves and in turn to the airlock chamber, understanding that now, there was nothing but their suits, their magnetic boots and three lifelines separating them from the vacuum beyond the hull.

The thought alone unsettled them. Outside, there would be no reassuring deck beneath their feet, no walls, no sense of up or down. Only the silent absolute black of space and, now dominating more of the sky with every passing hour, the vast rust-red disc of Mars awaited them.

They knew the danger was largely psychological. Their titanium-reinforced tethers were secure, the spacecraft was holding course, and Mars still remained millions of kilometres away.

Yet reason offered them little comfort at this stage.

Jonathan Townend

As the planet grew larger in their visors, an instinctive fear took hold of them both. The planet's immense presence seemed to exert a pull beyond gravity, drawing their gaze and invading their thoughts. Looking down at its canyon-scarred surface, it became disturbingly easy to imagine slipping free of the hull and falling towards it. Every metre of the crawl became an exercise in discipline.

• One firm handhold at a time

• One measured breath at a time

• One slow, carefully judged foothold firmly on the hull

The darkness behind them felt infinite, but the world ahead felt worse: immense, indifferent, and waiting. Suspended between the void and the looming planet below, they had only their lifelines, trust in the ship, and most of all, trust in each other, to keep the danger of panic at bay.

Captain Mara Vance suddenly felt the deck tilt beneath her bunk in her cabin as the ship’s nose angled downward, aligning with the ochre curve of Mars. Like a shot, she realized where she was immediately; not back on Earth where she truly believed she had been, and fast-paced it from her quarters to the command room. She quickly and coldly became aware that Aurelius was in big trouble, not from the bounce in her step but because, as she entered and threw herself into her flight command seat, the thrusters responded without any commands from the crew or her. They were firing in short, controlled bursts.

“Viewer on,” she calmly spoke.

“On,” confirmed Ellie from the comms panel.

Aurelius was no longer traveling through space. The whole command area was rapidly swathed in an ochre-colored image on the viewscreen, no cold blackness of space, but more the harsh landscape of Mars itself.

“Trying to reduce the screen glare…” came Georgia’s anxious voie as she quickly watched the rest of the crew rapidly shielding their eyes from the sudden glare, “but the command controls have been locked out, encrypted somehow, and it’s not by one of us.”

“Navigation, thruster control, communication, imaging, engine control- the only system that’s left active is the onboard environmental systems so far,” Lieutenant Hale said, fingers flying across the console. “We’re locked out. But every system is… almost… listening.”

Inside the ship, the crew tried to sound professional and in control.

"Suit telemetry looks good."

"Remaining oxygen: six hours."

"Copy that."

But their voices were tighter than usual. Everyone kept staring at the same screen. Mars. Growing larger every few minutes.

The astronauts placed their gloved hands against the ship's metal skin. There was no wind. No sound. Just the endless black and that impossibly large planet ahead.

And then came the sensation nobody had expected.

It wasn't physical, at first. More psychologically-based. It was a creeping awareness that they were no longer merely traveling through space.But that they were actually falling. The navigational computers called it an 'insertion trajectory.' Orbital mechanics. Gravity assist calculations. Elegant mathematics... Whatever.

But the human crew called it something else... Something was physically pulling them in. The crew knew that the force was tiny at this distance. Their training taught them that. Physics confirmed it. Yet every glance toward Mars brought the very same primitive feeling. That identical animal instinct.

Mars had noticed them.

Captain Mara instinctively slammed her hand urgently down on the coms panel, "Guys, this is Mara, get the hell back inside the nearest emergency airlock. As soon as the outer airlock closes, confirm you're both safely back onboard. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Brace for a red alert!"