The Mercy of Angels

PROLOGUE

THE gravity alarm sounded suddenly. Wrenched from sleep I unclipped my retaining strap and cascaded from my bunk, my hands clawing for the handholds on the roof of my quarters. As the 60 second countdown struck 12, my feet jammed against the floor and my white knuckles gripped the handholds in anticipation. My roommate, Bella, was not there. This explained the lack of a wake-up shove. She was probably bunking with Jeremy again, ugh!

My sleeping bag floated from my bunk. Too late to do anything about it. At least it wasn’t breakable. Any breakage on this journey was a calamity. My heart-shaped locket? The countdown struck zero, and the vibrating force of the Raptor Vacuum Rocket Engine roaring to life reached my legs and every molecule of my being a split-second later. My heart clattered into gear in response to the now less than familiar feeling of a one third unit of Earth gravity.

CHAPTER ONE

THE last great pandemic of the 21st century had been much worse than anticipated. Whilst the Virus’ Saw protein had slashed its way through human bodies, causing micro-embolisms that asphyxiated and blood clots that stopped hearts, with deaths in the many millions, it was the unknown secondary impacts that had precipitated the Disaster. It wasn’t just the Virus that was responsible. Most of the Disaster was due to the cure. Vaccines developed at spectacular speed, hailed as miracles to save the generations alive that, within a year, had become the damnation of all future generations. For every one of those vaccines had reproduced the Saw protein: a protein later found to bury itself deep within the female womb and remain there forever after.

The inability of most countries to stop the Virus spread, coupled with accelerated vaccine programmes, had resulted in a bleak new normal. What had been a deadly pandemic quickly became a perennial heartbreak for those desiring the pitter patter of tiny feet within their now cold and empty homes.

Only the smallest handful of island nations like Australia, that had bunkered down during the worst of the pandemic behind natural moats and delayed vaccine rollouts, had preserved the hopes of the future survival of humankind. But even those nations couldn’t hope to stop the inevitable creep of the Virus forever. The death clock was ticking on the species. As birth rates fell across the globe and isolated outbreaks of the everchanging Virus sprang up within sanctuary nations a plan for the human equivalent of the doomsday vault, to preserve a Saw protein free version of the human genome in animated form, was born.

Dubbed the Angels of Mars Sanctuary project, humankind was to become a multiplanetary civilisation using conventional technologies not far removed from those of the Apollo missions. A group of people free of the Saw protein, rather than scientists, had to colonise an inhospitable planet, survive, and reproduce for at least as long as the lifespan of the youngest infant on Earth. I was now one of the last of those Angels enroute to the red planet with the impossible goal of continuing our species’ unbroken billions of years of evolution for billions more.

CHAPTER TWO

FIFTEEN minutes of calisthenics later, the gravity alarm sounded again and the 60 second countdown to the flip manoeuvre began. Now awake, adjusted to the artificial gravity, and reassured that my locket was safe around my neck, I leisurely reached for the handles on the roof. The countdown struck zero and the 180-degree rotation of both the Starship Lander, with its precious human cargo, and the cluster of Starship Boosters, that held the fuel for the acceleration and deceleration artificial gravity burns, began. Two burns per day for the last 6 weeks of the journey, with today marking the start of the last of those weeks. I could hardly believe I was so close to my objectives.

The zero gravity 6-month long journey from Earth to Mars had almost crippled the first Martians to land successfully on the planet. Unlike the first few Martian crews, whose molecules were scattered across the desert tundra from the vaporising infernos of their unsuccessful landings, the crews that survived had endured lengthy recovery periods adjusting to Mars’ gravity rich environment of a paltry 4/10ths that of Earth. This had undermined mission success and a fix had to be found, even for the mission proving and expendable early astronauts adulterated by the Saw protein. For the Angels, those carefully chosen specimens most suited for the long-term mercy mission on the inhospitable Martian hellscape, every effort had to be made to succour and preserve their physical, emotional and reproductive wellbeing.

Absent the technology to build stable, spinning, gravity simulating spaceships of sufficient size that weren’t nausea inducing nightmares, the booster cluster had been conceived, along with a resistance training regimen and daily turns on the vomit comet, a 9-metre diameter centrifuge occupying the full width of the Starship. I was scheduled for a pre-lunch session on the centrifuge. Only the pregnant were excused. But copulating in some dark corner and being little more than highly prized breeding stock was low on my present list of priorities.

The rotation concluded with the abrupt return of weightlessness. I sucked on a liquid pack as I stripped off my clothes for my washcloth bath in the tiny cabin space that served almost every purpose. As I attached my suction toilet for my ablutions, I paused to regard myself in the glass-free mirror. Tall, voluptuous, heavy boned, wide hipped with no ankles, my physique had been underappreciated on Earth. But in the low gravity environment of Mars, where bone density and natural muscularity were at the top of the evolutionary chart, I was in high demand, at least insofar as the scientists running the project were concerned. It probably helped that I was a bio-medicine student too.

I’d not volunteered but had been approached after my mother had submitted my details under an incentive scheme to help identify the best individuals to undertake the mission. Those selected earned their next of kin a tax-free lump-sum payment of $500,000. Such trivialities went to the next of kin because those chosen for the mission weren’t going to need Earthly things. I didn’t hold it against my mother. She’d raised me and my brother, her favourite, alone on the very edge of poverty, and they still faced a mean future. I’d have done the same. And I could always have refused. If my boyfriend at the time had been more than a mere convenience, I might even have done so. But then I would have missed out on this once in a species opportunity of applying my studies in pursuit of a unique goal.

I imagine I would have eventually volunteered If I hadn’t been so absorbed in my newfound interest of everything microbial. As far back as I could remember, I’d always been fascinated by living things. My childhood bedroom had been littered with bugs, spiders and butterflies pinned like museum specimens to the fibreboard. I was always the top in my class for biology and my dissections were exceptional. I’d actually planned to become a veterinarian. As a kid I’d regularly played animal hospital. I’d once even tried treating our cat, but a days old, stiff, dead cat had been the result. However, when the Virus leaked from the lab and the pandemic first arose, I realised that I could accomplish far more through bio-medicine than I could ever hope to achieve as a veterinarian. And unlike the greatest mass murderer to ever exist, I would never be foolish enough to create and then accidentally release a species destroying Virus on the World.

That thought caused me to clutch my locket. We’d each been permitted to bring one personal item. My great, great, grandmother’s locket, worn by her as a child when the Spanish Flu had ravaged the World 100 years before, was my choice. It had a concealed hinge clasp that opened to reveal a tiny space for a keepsake. My ancestor had kept a photograph of her father inside. I’d replaced it with a glass crystal that contained a ruby-red centre with an unusual watery appearance. The locket and crystal reminded me of family, my calling and my goals. It was my most precious possession and having it close to my heart gave me comfort.

I finished bathing, dressed in the uniform woollen garments everyone wore, and began my weightless passage through the corridors to the main science laboratory. Chosen to become a trainee bio-engineer, I had four main roles to fulfill over the course of my lengthy workday. I had to inspect and analyse the microbial health of our protein farms. These were essentially vast cockroach tanks to consume organic waste and breed a hardy population of staple protein, primarily for future poultry, fish and hog farming, but also for direct human consumption should such need arise. Ordinarily, I began my day by carefully selecting those wriggling specimens to be diced, sliced, ground and burnt as part of the analysis process, but today was to be geared towards another of my roles.

Those other roles included analysing the regular blood and urine samples of the crew from the Medilab, continuing my studies via very remote learning, including working on my doctoral project as I referred to it, and playing nurse by giving injections to crew when the Medilab needed support, as they did now with all the preparations ahead of our landing. They were closing out the final round of medical check-ups, which included one last test for the Virus and Saw protein, before all focus would turn to keeping us Angels alive in the upcoming high-risk environment.

This morning I had some preparation to do ahead of Jeremy, my love-struck roommate’s boyfriend, coming for a supplemental iron injection. He’d already had his last check-up, but I’d recorded low iron levels on his blood sample. To save circuitous paperwork, I’d had Bella tell him to come to the lab for the injection. I’d also not wanted our imminent arrival to delay his treatment. Our Starship was to be the last of the human cargo and I anticipated some celebratory mayhem. Would it all be worthwhile?

CHAPTER THREE

JEREMY remained quiet as I swabbed his forearm. It could not be denied that he was incredibly handsome with a smouldering intensity. I almost pitied Bella. He was going to be hot property in the coming weeks, and she faced almost certain heartache once he took to stud. He was a perfect choice for so many reasons.

I inserted the needle containing the red hued mixture into the vein of his forearm, depressed the plunger and watched the contents drain into his circulatory system. I felt my lips crease into a smile and, after I removed the syringe, my hands went naturally to my neck in search of my locket, which for once was not to be found there. I looked over to the sterile container where my preparations had taken place. Inside the locket floated gently, its hidden clasp open and the glass crystal it contained in pieces, the ruby-red part missing. My pleasure stirred and I once again pondered, was the greatest evil the Few who hunted the many Dodo to the edge of extinction, or the One who took the life of the last of the species?

EPILOGUE

HOW the Virus came to infect the people of the Sanctuary weeks after the last of the arrivals remains a mystery. Its spread, aided by the mostly asymptomatic status of the young colonists on their God sent procreative purpose, had been almost universal by the time it was discovered. All the unimaginable cost in money and lives had been dashed, along with the hopes of all humankind.

Perhaps one day I might be found out. Perhaps one day I might instead publish my doctoral thesis to reveal the solitary chink in the project’s sterile armour, my heart-shaped locket.

END