Volk (Or, a Superhero on Mars)

Spoiler: Author's Preface

I've already posted this on SB and SV, so I thought I'd cross post this here for visibility. An original superhero story, set in a distant sci-fi future. I hope you enjoy.

There was nobody watching when the first person to ever do so set foot on Mars.

His feet touched the reddish surface, black boots sinking slightly into the soil. He was the first human to step in that dirt, and in all likelihood he would be the last.

Being the last wasn’t what he wanted, but it had been what humanity wanted if the state of his world was any indication. He’d tried. Tried to save people, tried to be a hero, like Seven wanted him to be, like she believed he could be. An ideal, as Frost thought of him. A paragon, like well, Paragon wanted. A few of the people that he once might have called friends.

They were dead and gone, so much radioactive ash in the wind. Killed by an atomic fireball, wrath brought down upon a city by it’s own nation’s government in a desperate attempt to kill them all. Not just Frost, and Seven, and Paragon, and Draco but the rest too. A million people, dead in an instant. A million more, dying a slow and horrifying death. He first killed the man who pulled the trigger in his oval office, tore his heart out and made a nation watch. He’d killed him, his sycophants and henchmen to the last. Tore some apart in squalls of gore, vaporized others in clouds of mist. He had broken their excuse of a government over his knee. The old man, who had set everything into motion, whose honeyed words that fueled religious fervor, who had so readily damned a nation in the name of a god that existed only in the pages of a book?

He had died last. He had died slow, just like he wanted.

He had died, and had conspired for Volk to do the deed.

He had proved a point then to the entire world, that his kind weren’t fit for society. Supers, Metas, Paras, demons, and a million other terms. That Volk and the rest of the Flight and superhumans were enemies of mankind, and always would be.

Not that Volk cared anymore.

Once, he had wanted to cry, but he had no mouth to cry or scream from. He had no tears to shed, nor eyes to shed them from. It was a small part of him that wanted to weep, a fragment of that homeless teenage boy, from before he died and became whatever he was now. An angel of death, a horseman of the apocalypse. The Antichrist made flesh, Or so the pundits and talking heads screamed from their pulpits that he was.

All Volk had ever been was some nameless, homeless kid given far too much power. He’d had the power to save scores of people, but not the ones he cared about. Not his friends.

Once, he had wanted to cry.

Crying gets you nowhere, you little bitch.

Next to Volk, a small boulder disintegrated as his fist impacted the surface, fragments scattering across the ground and far into the distance. Shattered by a bolt of white hot rage, aimed at someone who had died quietly and in her sleep.

It burned and boiled and seethed, and Volk didn’t bother to stamp it down or out. It wasn't like there was anyone around to get hurt. He stood there for a minute, trembling in anger until the rage subsided and cold replaced it.

Volk lifted off, rising up from the surface, toward the middle of the three mountains he had spotted as he approached the world. One thought, one desire remained. To hibernate, where none would ever disturb him. Not death, not true death, but not the nightmare his existence had become either. He’d find a place somewhere and sleep forever. No humans would ever step foot on Mars, not as Earth burned in nuclear fire and drowned in chaos.

Of that he was sure of.

It didn’t take him long. Volk found a spot, at the base of the mountain. A cave, disappearing into the mountain’s flank, exposed by a landslide eons past. Once more his feet touched down, landing amidst the dirt and rocks. The entrance stood before him, black and foreboding. Volk stepped forward, walking into the inky blackness.

The cave was oddly familiar, almost welcoming, like that mineshaft he had first walked out of so long before. Part of him wished he could feel something negative, about walking into what would be his own tomb. The rest didn’t care. The rest had stopped caring, because the rest was dead, back on Earth with the ashes of his friends.

A tomb. To seal the deal he looked back, towards the roof of the entrance. A beam lashed out from his Eye, shattering the rock and causing the entrance to collapse and seal him in.

The cave was pretty big, bigger than what Volk would imagine a cave on earth to be like. Less a cave, and more of a contiguous cavern. He started walking, his sight unimpeded by the pitch blackness around him. The sound of his footsteps, already faint, were all but inaudible in the thin air. He continued following the cave as it began to slope up, before coming to a stop. His path was blocked, another cave-in halting his progress.

He turned around and sat down, his back to a boulder. He rested his head upon it, listening for any sounds. He heard nothing, felt nothing. He never wanted to feel anything again.

Volk metaphorically closed his eyes and drifted away, letting the hibernation take hold. Maybe he’d run out of whatever it was that kept him going in that state eventually, maybe he’d finally, actually die.

Maybe he’d see them all again, one day.

 

“Radiation.”

“Huh?”

“The detector,” the first pointed to the device fixed to the rover’s sidewall. “It says there’s something radioactive nearby. Told you my hunch was right.”

“Radiation,” the second spoke. “You dragged us out here for radiation.”

“What’s radiation mean?’” asked the third, seated behind the other two.

“Quiet Tula,” the second chided. “Pask’s trying to drive.”

“Is not,” Tula, the third, answered, kicking the back of Pask’s seat. “They’re trying to crash.”

“Tul, please.”

“Nah.” He kicked again.

“Ayan, can you ask him to stop? I’m kind of driving up a mountain here.” The rover shuddered just then, as it lumbered over the terrain.

“Tul, please stop distracting our driver.”

“Nah,” he repeated.

“Tula.”

“I am venting my frustration at them.”

“And I distinctly recall you begging to come along.”

“‘Cause I thought you’d be doing something interesting!” She half shouted. “Not Outrider crap.”

“And if we’re stuck out here for days because we wrecked our rover in a crevasse or sinkhole?”

The kicking stopped. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Pask spoke. “The Sister’s full of holes. We fall in one, they won’t ever find us.”

“Sinkholes and lava tubes, I know Razz,” Ayan spoke. “We were both taught by the same teacher, remember?”

“Just saying.” Pask brought the rover to a stop on the slope of the Second Sister, the incline now more noticeable after becoming stationary. “My hunch is paying off, and I want to check this out. Ay, suit up. Tul, stay in the rover.”

“Do I have to?” Came Tula’s now predictable response.

“Yeah, you have to,” Pask said. “It could be dangerous, and we can’t use the b-spec comms from the suits.” They turned to the other. “Ayan, the detector says that there’s something artificial out there.”

“Radioactive.”

“Yeah, but it can’t tell what kind, which is weird. It could be from something Elin-made, but we’d have to check it out up close. If it’s something valuable? We can bring it back for the scrap.” Pask grinned. “And if there’s more where it came from?”

“Good prepack. Maybe fresh food too?” Tula asked.

“Yeah Tul. So we need you out here. In here, whatever.” Pask climbed out of his cockpit seat, walking to the rear of the rover toward the airlock. Ayan followed him while Tul remained seated.

“Hey, Pask?”

“Tul?” Pask didn’t have time to speak further as he leaned up to plant his lips on theirs. The brief moment passed, and they broke their kiss. “Stay safe you two.”

“Hopefully we can get back soon,” Ayan said. “It took us nearly half the day to get here.”

“Half of which was spent picking our way up the slope. We know the way back, so we have plenty of time. ‘Sides, what’s the Matron gonna do if we’re a little late?”

Ayan didn’t say anything in reply as Pask led the way into the cramped airlock. Pask focused on the task at hand. They peeled off their bodysuit as Ayan did the same, the thin material sticking to their skin from the heat inside the rover. Briefly they were both nude. Not that Pask minded, and they felt Ayan didn’t either. They and Tula were already all mates in all but binding, and they felt that the only thing preventing the Matron from granting them a shared chamber was their age.

And the Rites, but that was another story.

“Pask?”

Pask said nothing as Ayan kissed him as well, cupping his face in her hands. “What Tula said,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” They broke contact, and they steered his focus away from his soon-to-be mate and back towards the task at hand. They removed their suits from their storage compartments, before going through the process of putting the bulky ensembles on. Said suits were older models, surplus units fitted with bulky eternal tanks on their backs. They were a little harder to move in compared to the newest stuff the Colony or the Outer Branches had, and you had to enter from the open seal in the front. Pask slipped into his suit, the innermost layer form fitting in contrast to the bulky outer. Once inside they zipped up and sealed the front, cocooning themself within it.

They then reached into another compartment and began withdrawing the rest of their gear. A magnetic light, which then attached to the helmet of their suit, followed by a portable finder. They would have taken one of the security tools, but Ayan was the better shot of the two of them.

Instead, they took the stick. A walking stick, made of genuine wood from Cradle and long bleached white by the harsh sun. It had probably belonged to one of the explorers from the Hetris Hab’s early days, When Dust was still a strange and hostile world. Pask had found it buried in a locker, deep in the back of a storage room and long forgotten. He’d long since taken to bringing it along when going out in the rover in lieu of a guidestick made of more common materials, despite the discouragement of his Outrider guide.

A tap on their shoulder, and they turned to see Ayan ready, security tool in hand. “Good to go?” she asked through the comm-link.

“Yeah. Cycle the lock?”

She nodded, tapping the pad next to her to seal the inner hatch. As the hatch closed, Pask caught sight of Tula sticking his tongue out at them. The lock depressurized and the outer hatch dropped down, exposing them to the harshness of Dust.

It was a short walk, albeit made longer by them having to navigate around the rockslide up to the cave. “Is it in there, whatever it is?” Ayan asked.

“Yeah. The finder’s display indicated a rad source from that vector. But like I said earlier, it didn’t know what it was looking at.”

“What could it be then?”

“Dunno. Or rather it doesn’t know.” Pask kept walking up to the cave entrance. It had caved in, long ago. “Maybe something weird that the detector isn’t set up to look for, a weird isotope of some exotic heavy metal.”

“It was deliberately collapsed,” Ayan said.

“What?”

“See up there?” She told them, pointing up above the rubble. “Scorching. It looks old though. Real old.”

“There’s a gap below it,” Pask noted. “Looks like we can slip through if we stay low.”

“I don’t know Pask, I’m having a bad feeling about this.”

“Come on Ay, if anything goes wrong you got the tool.”

“Fine.” I’ll go first.” Ayan mag-attached her security tool to her hip. “Your stick?”

“Oh? Oh, sure.” Pask handed it off before Ayan began to pick her way up the boulders. Pask followed, careful to place their hands where Ayan did. There was dust and loose rocks between the larger boulders, and the both of them took care not to touch any sharp or jagged edges on the rougher pieces. The suits were tough, but it wouldn't do to take chances. As they entered the gloom of the cave, they both switched on their lights, illuminating the path down the other side. The descent was slower, mainly due to the darkness. But a few minutes later they were standing on the floor of the cave.

“A lava tube,” Pask stated. “The Sisters are filled with them. The Queen too, probably.”

“Lots of hiding spots for Outcasts, I imagine.”

“If any of them are in here, they’re long gone. Or… dead.” Pask grimaced at the last word.

Ayan didn't reply. She led the way, her tool once again in hand. They flicked on their helmet lights, the beams lancing through the dark. The tube sloped upward, toward the distant summit of the Sister.

Pask eyed the finder in his hand as they walked in silence. “It’s getting stronger,” they said, breaking it.

Ahead, Ayan abruptly stopped. “Not what, who.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“See for yourself.”

Pask stepped around her to look themself. At the end of the tunnel where the passage abruptly ended due to another cave-in was a body. They were sitting on the floor of the cave, their back against a large boulder. Their legs were pulled up to their chest and their arms were wrapped around their knees. A thick layer of dust had built up on them, further obscuring their form.

“I don’t recognize the helmet shape,” Ayan spoke. “Or the suit. It must be skin-tight, and they’re wearing extra over it.”

“Outcasts?”

“I…” Ayan trailer off, nauseated at the sight. “I don’t know Pask. Is that source nearby?”

Pask looked down at the screen on the finder, before looking back up at the motionless figure on the floor. “Aya, I think they are the source.”

“Is- Is it dangerous, this close?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ayan looked away, down at the floor. She was quiet for a brief moment. “Huh.”

“Ay?”

Ayan started to look around them, down at the cave floor. She crouched down, studying the dirt. “I can barely see their footprints.”

“Ayan?”

“The prints,” she continued. “I didn’t see them when we first came up. And they’re barely even visible in here. And it’s only their set and ours, and theirs are so... faded.”

“How long ago?”

“It’s hard to tell. A real long time ago.”

“And we were the first to find them?”

“Must be. Pask, your guidestick?”

“My guidestick? What for?”

“I- I need to check them,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t want to touch it.”

“Oh, sure,” Pask nodded in understanding, handing it off to her.

Ayan cautiously approached the long dead person. Distressingly it made no movement, showed no signs of life. She crouched down next to the corpse, shining her helmet light onto the surface of the helmet. “Wait, black?”

“Black?”

“The helmet, it’s- It’s solid black.”

“That can’t be.”

“It is though.”

“Can you see inside?” Pask said, coming closer.

“I’d need to- to wipe the dust off. But…”

“Ayan, listen to me,” Pask said. “It’s their suit. You’re not touching…” He glanced at the body. “You’re not touching them.”

“You’re handling this better than me and you’re a nomali,” Ayan said.

“I’m rationalizing,” Pask said. “Like you should be doing right now. Wallsec should have taught you that.”

“I… Yeah. Yeah, they did.” They heard Ayan take a few deep breaths, the Outrider in training clearing her head and focusing. She reached out to the body with a hand, wiping the dust off in a single quick motion.

A pause, before she wiped away more of the dust. “It’s a single solid piece? What? There’s no faceplate, it’s totally solid.”

“Is that normal?”

“Have you ever heard of an evee suit helmet you can’t see out of?”

“No,” he answered.

“Their whole suit is black,” Ayan said, brushing away more of the dust from the shoulders. “And there’s no markings or insignia of any kind.”

“Maybe they’re on the back?”

Ayan tapped the stick to the figure’s head, prodding them. “Going to have to turn them over to look-”

She never got the chance to finish the sentence. Ayan reacted much faster than Pask had to the figure’s left hand abruptly reaching up and seizing the stick, grasping the end that had poked them. She shrieked, letting go of the end she was holding, the now free hand going for her security tool in a panic. Pask themself stumbled back in shock, tripping and falling roughly to the cave floor.

In front of them, the figure was climbing to their feet.

Ayan’s tool was in her hands, the business end trained on the formerly dead, now very much alive figure. “You- You’re alive?” She asked them haltingly.

The figure raised its free hand, wiping off the last bits of dust that was clinging to its helmet. Pask could now see that the helmet it wore had a single red lens set near the center, about where their eye level would be. A lens that almost seemed to glow from within, Pask realized as the figure’s head turned to face them, that single red eye boring into them.

“H-hello?” Ayan tried asking. “Can you hear me? Are your comms open?”

It looked away from Pask, turning its gaze to Ayan. The figure did nothing to respond, said nothing in reply. Or if it did, it didn’t have the right comm setup.

“Ay, maybe it doesn’t have comms? Our channels and crypto are pretty fresh.”

“Crypto doesn’t matter, we’re on open comms right now!”

“Oh. Then I don’t know.” Pask had an idea. They raised a hand, toggling on the external speaker on their suit before taking a step toward the figure. “Look, can you understand us?”

The figure looked at them, Pask’s stick still clutched in their grasp. It looked down at the object, perhaps scrutinizing it, before looking back up at them. Pask couldn’t tell what it was thinking without seeing their face.

“Razz, thoughts?” Ayan said, her tool up.

“I don’t know,” they told the truth. “ We try to keep talking?”

“Keep talking they say.” The figure had focused on Ayan again, or more appropriately on the tool in her hands. Ayan toggled her own suit speaker. “Look, I don’t know who you are or how you got out here, but we’re going to leave now. Pask, let's get back to the exit-”

Before Pask could respond or even move, the stranger did. It took a step toward them, and before they could utter a word Ayan reacted. Maybe it was because she was unsettled from the corpse that suddenly wasn’t a corpse, or maybe she was jumpy because it was giving them the silent treatment. Either way her finger squeezed the trigger on the tool and it spat a burst of shockers at the stranger.

“Pask! Run!” Ayan shouted. “Back to the entrance!”

Pask didn’t need to be told twice, and they turned and ran as fast as they could. Behind them they heard the staccato of the security tool as it fired. They reached the cave entrance, scrabbling up the boulders and shimmying through the gap. They slipped and lost their grip, rolling down the other side and landing heavily on their back.

Pask struggled to their feet, just in time to get bowled over by Ayan who had come out of the entrance even more recklessly than they had. The two of them went back down again, in a sprawl of tangled limbs. They heard a crack as their visor hit a rock on the ground, a hiss of air as it began to escape through a hole. Fix it in the rover. Pask held their breath, getting to their feet and dragging Ayan to hers. The ramp was still down on the rover, and they threw themself inside. As they climbed to their feet Pask heard the ramp close up, turning to see Ayan right behind them.

“Pask, driver’s seat!” Ayan shouted, ripping off her helmet. Pask did the same, popping the emergency seals on their helmet and stumbling through the rear airlock and into the driver’s seat.

“Hey guys, what’s wrong?” Tula asked worriedly, startled at their abrupt return, face previously buried in a slate.

“Dead guy!” Ayan answered her, sitting down and strapping in. “Only not dead, and angry!” Pask looked over his shoulder at Ayan, only then realizing she was nursing her right hand. The hand she’d been holding her security tool with.

“Aya, where’s your tool?”

“That… thing, whatever it is, smashed it out of my hand with your guidestick,” she said, cradling the limb ass she struggled to strap herself in with her other good hand. “I just turned and ran. I think something’s broken.”

“Tula, behind your seat, the Fak. It has a splint.”

“Got it!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get us back real quick.” Pask focused on their task at hand. Starting the rover, turning it around and following the ruts that they had left, back toward the Western Road. All the while they kept sparing glances through the windows, at the rear view mirror and back toward the cave.

And the person that they had found within.

-==-​

Volk let them go. He could have stopped them, could have broken them, Eye or no.

Why were there people on Mars?

But he didn’t. He’d let them go, even after one of them had shot him in the face. He’d killed people for much less, so why didn’t he pursue the two of them?

Maybe it was the shock of seeing two people in blue space suits, of suddenly being… awoken like he had. He hadn’t been able to figure out what they were saying. And then he’d tried to leave, but…

Why were there people on Mars?

They had left him alone in that cave. Alone, and holding a stick after shooting him in the face. Although he’d taken a swing at them with it. Volk regarded it for a brief moment. It had been a long time since he had used a weapon, since he usually just didn’t need one. Him hitting them had been instinct, more than anything else. He looked at the discarded weapon lying in the dirt. He crouched down, picking it up with his free hand. A firearm of some kind with a shiny chrome body and fed by a straight, boxy magazine. The bullets it fired were weird, little capsule-shaped objects with barbed metal prongs sticking out of one end. They’d harmlessly bounced off of him, rather than penetrate and stick as presumably intended.

He dropped the gun, next reaching down to pick up one of the spent projectiles. On a hunch he squeezed the prongs together, and the hunch proved correct when he saw a little bolt of electricity arc across the gap between them. Some sort of projectile taser? Novel.

Volk dropped it as well. He looked up and toward the distant entrance, toward the sunlight filtering through the hole in the rubble and into the cave.

Why were there people on Mars?

At some point after his hibernation, the rubble from the cave collapse had shifted, exposing a space at the top large enough to allow ingress. Climbing out of the cave was something he normally wouldn’t have stooped to.

Volk stretched the metaphorical muscle, or at least tried to. Despite his best efforts, he could no longer fly. He’d seemingly lost the ability, as well as much of his physical strength. No, not lost, he thought after a second. Atrophied. Yes, that was the right word. He could almost feel it, his capacity to fly. But it was… weak.

He had a fraction of the strength, the force he once had. A part of him was glad for that. The destruction he could wreak when he cut loose was difficult to comprehend. After all, it had been part of his reason for abandoning Earth, to come to Mars in the hope he could wither away and finally die.

All that strength, and no one he could save.

Volk began to climb, the act new and unfamiliar to him. The rocks and debris had settled for the most part, only the smaller bits of debris shifting as he climbed. He didn’t have to climb far, reaching the top of the pile and working his way down the other side, all the while careful to not damage the stick he held onto. Planting his feet on the ground outside of the cave a moment later he stood upright, taking in the outside before him. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed - save for the minor landslide the entrance collapse had caused.

And wheel tracks, near the cave entrance.

For a moment, Volk studied the twin ruts. They seemed familiar yet strange, considering the surroundings. Something man-made, yet so far removed from Earth. Had Blink or Glimpse or one of the others been there, they would have had something to say about the ruts, something about the vehicle that might have made them or how fast it was going. But all Volk could discern from the tracks was they were made by tires, rather than tracks or something weird and esoteric.

Volk looked up, down the gentle slope of the mountain and towards the horizon where the tracks ran toward. Or from, maybe. He wondered what the two were driving. It must have been decently rugged and agile to cross the terrain as it did.

Why were there people on Mars?

Without any other course of action, Volk stepped off, walking straight between the ruts and following them into the distance. His only motivation at the moment being the question burning in his mind.

 

Pask winced as the Matron verbally swatted them.

They almost wished it had been physical.

“Not only are you late after disappearing to throne knows where, you lost and damaged property,” She said. “Tell me Pask, what all did you lose and damage?”

“I…” They trailed off, silent.

“Pask? I am waiting.”

“I damaged my pressure suit,” Pask ground out. “But I can fix it, there are spare faceplates down in the-”

“No buts! What if you had shattered it, Pask?”

“I’d be dead, Matron,” Pask answered.

“Yes, you would. And as for you,” she turned to Ayan, who had been standing next to them, “What do you have to say?”

She was standing straight, as best she could with her splinted and bandaged wrist in a sling. “We were attacked by a stranger in an black evee suit, who had been inside a cave we were searching for salvage, my Matron.”

The Matron sighed. “Do you still insist on pretending, and with such a silly story?” She demanded to know.

“It’s not silly, and it’s the truth, my Matron.”

“Really.” The Matron then turned to the last of the three in her office. “What of you, Tula? Did you see this stranger?”

“I didn’t see a thing,” Tula said. The Matron scowled, and he quickly finished with a “My Matron.”

“Tell me, what did you see?”

“My Matron, I stayed with the rover, liked they asked,” He explained. “They were gone a short while. Then they came running into the rover, scared shi- They were scared. Like, really scared. My Matron.”

The Matron was quiet for a moment, before she let out a long sigh. “You three, such a handful.” She walked around her desk from where she had been standing before it, before sitting down. Her desk was made of hardwood, actual, real wood from Cradle. A gift to their colony from when it was founded a century ago, and probably the single most valuable bit of furniture in their Home. “In the end I suppose that it doesn’t matter, whatever it was you were doing out there. What does matter is that one of you nearly killed themselves, and the other injured herself recklessly.”

“But-”

“No buts Pask!” The Matron said half-shouting, causing them to flinch. “You both could have died, stumbling around in some cave. You both should know that those caves are off limits to non-Outriders! You both should have known better! Even you Tula!”

“Y- yes Matron.”

“What would have happened had you gotten stuck, or trapped?” The Matron demanded. “For Cradle’s sake, you should have at least taken an Outrider with you. And Pask,” she looked to the first of the group, who’d been about to open their mouth, “Since you’re still hung up on that suit, replacement parts are expensive. As is replacement equipment, Ayan.” The second looked away, her face flushed. “And the one thing I don’t know for sure is why you three went out into the wastes like you did.”

“A radiation source, my Matron,” Pask tried to explain. One of the drones the Outriders used detected a source out on the near face of the Second Sister. I- We went to go look.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh? And what of this source?”

“It… was coming from the stranger.”

“Enough of this,” The Matron spoke, exasperated. “Jokall will have your punishment details. Get them from him on the way out.”

“P- Punishment?” Tula stammered.

“Did you three think you were getting away scot free?” The Matron asked. “And Pask, I’m revoking your rover privileges for the week.”

“What?” Pask said.

“For now, you three are restricted to the Dome unless absolutely necessary. And even after you are not to leave unsupervised until further notice. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Crystal.”

“Tula.”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Good. Now leave.”

The three of them turned to leave, but the Matron wasn’t quite done. “And you three, one last thing. What would your parents have thought? Of their kids, their only children risking themselves like you just did? Please think about that, as you reflect on why you’ve been punished.”

They only nodded, leaving her office wordlessly. Like she said, Jokall, her ever-present assistant was there waiting for them, three polysheets with printed instruction lists on them in hand.

A short way from her office and part way around the curve of the Hab, Tula broke the silence. “Man, this krifing sucks! Why am I getting punished for your screw-ups?”

“Stuff it Tula,” Ayan shot back. “You didn’t get your wrist broken by a crazy dead guy.”

“At least I didn’t lose my tool- Ow!” He cried out, as Ayan punched him in the shoulder with her good hand.

“It’s still back there, you know,” Pask pointed out. “In the cave, I mean.”

“Of course it is,” Ayan said. “Unless that… That person took it.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that.”

“There weren’t any cartridges left though, I fired them all. So it’s about as useful as a… As something that’s broken, I guess.”

“As an empty air tank?” Tula suggested.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My guidestick,” Pask said.

“What about your gui- Oh.” Ayan turned to look at them. “Oh no, it’s still out there too. The Recall engram didn’t bring it back to you, so…”

“Yeah. Probably got damaged when that guy… hit you with it.”

“Does the Matron know?”

“I doubt she would even care.”

“Still, it’s wood. It’s rare.”

“Yeah.”

“We should-”

“No,” Pask said. “Not now. Not while we’re all being breathed down on by the Matron. It’s not going anywhere.”

“All right. Well, not unless that person wanders off with it.”

Pask grimaced at that. It had been a good guidestick. Best case it was in a cave, forgotten and broken. Worst case… Pask didn’t even want to think about the worst case. “Well, by my calculations, if they aren’t dead already they will be by the next sunrise,” Tula tried to add helpfully.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So,” Tula said, holding up his polysheet, “What do we have to do first- Oh.”

“What is it?” Pask stopped, looking at their own. “Clean bathrooms?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait really? Which ones?”

“The Common Deck, and all of them.”

“Well, krif.”

-==-​

Volk walked.

It was the only thing he could do at that moment. He walked until the sun set, the orb falling beneath the horizon and plunging the landscape into darkness. He stopped at a low boulder near where the ruts passed it, larger than the others that dotted the landscape. He sat down on its surface, placing the cane against the side to wait out the night.

It was a good cane. He had noted its handmade quality the moment he got a chance to study it in detail. It was hewn from a solid length of wood, probably heartwood from some variety of hardwood tree. It might have been brown at one point, but it had long since been bleached white from the sun and age. The handle was wrapped in some sort of leather-like material, a loop of the same stuff tied off and ending in a wrist strap at the end. For some reason Volk couldn’t quite explain, he had felt compelled to hold onto it. Perhaps it was valuable, or perhaps he found it an oddity, compared to the sterile lifelessness of the bleak desert around him.

Above him, the Milky Way hung bright in the cold night sky. It was brighter and clearer than it had been on Earth, the broad ribbon of cosmic dust and stars dominating his view. Occasionally he saw streaks high above, fast moving pinpricks of light. He knew what they were. Satellites, flying through space in low orbits. He pondered about those lights, about the fate of humanity. Something had survived the cataclysm that befell Earth, brought down by that madman and his ilk. Had they made it back to space afterward?

The answer was of course yes. The two people in the cave were real, as real as the cane in his hands. He spared a moment to think how people could have arrived here, how long they might have come to be on Mars. Hadn’t it been just a few years since he’d come himself? Decades? Centuries?

Longer?

And were Earth and Mars alone among other worlds that held humanity? Were the other planets colonized, Like Venus or Mercury, or even the gas giants? Volk thought that they had moons as big as some planets, so maybe there too? Volk didn’t have answers to those questions either, so he would go and find them like he usually did.

At dawn, Volk stood up, grabbing the walking stick to continue following the ruts. At some point, he decided that it was less of a cane and more of a walking stick. Canes tended to be more ornamental, while the length of faded and gnarled wood in his hand was more… crude. It had a crude quality to it. Yeah, that was the right word.

His internal musings regarding how to identify a stick promptly ended when he found the road.

The ruts ended at the shoulder of a wide, two-lane ribbon of pavement, complete with a dashed white line running down its center. It stretched in a straight line from one horizon to the other, and the sight of something so far removed from Earth actually surprised him. A road, on Mars.

In a way, it made sense. A colony or habitat had people, and people needed things, needed stuff. Things and stuff had to be transported to them. Who was it? Draco? Had called it infrastructure, and explained the basics to him. All the physical stuff needed for a society to function, stuff like railroads and power lines and bridges. And roads, of course.

Why were there people on Mars?

The ruts turned to his left, becoming little trails of dust before fading away on the blacktop. With the way pointed out to him, Volk stepped onto the road, following the direction the rover went toward the horizon. On he walked, the sun climbing into the sky as he went. It was the direction that whatever vehicle the two had been driving had gone. He could have almost imagined the ribbon of pavement to be one of the countless back on Earth, had it not been for the decidedly alien landscape on either side of it.

The sun was to his left, having past its zenith to fall back toward the horizon. He assumed that was west, although the sun might set in a different direction than it did on earth - something he should investigate or ask about at some point. In maybe half an hour it would set completely, once more plunging the Martian landscape into darkness.

It was then that Volk saw it, a cloud of dust in the distance made by something traveling on the road towards him. Were the two returning, or was it perhaps someone else? Or was it just some random traveler going from one point to another? The road had seemed frequented at least, worn twin grooves down either lane. Although if Volk had to be honest with himself, he had no real way to truly tell how frequently. It was two lanes and paved, but he wasn’t sure what that really meant here in terms of traffic.

After a moment of deliberation, Volk came to a decision and stepped off the road and onto the shoulder to allow the vehicle to pass. As the source of the dust became visible, he realized that it wasn’t a vehicle but vehicles. There were three of them, seemingly all of the same type, traveling in a convoy and at speed. His first impression of the three was that of futuristic boxes on wheels, something akin to a cross between a moon rover and one of those big, three-axled military trucks he had seen a few times. As they drew closer he could make out more details. They were fully enclosed, and all were the same shade of green - the third non-red color he’d seen since waking up, after the deep blue of the strangers’ pressure suits and the bone white of the walking stick in his hand. They also all had writing on them, but the script was strange and foreign to him, something akin to random geometric shapes.

The rover-slash-trucks blasted past, eerily silent in the thin, cold air. For a moment Volk assumed that they would keep going, straight toward the opposite horizon and paying no mind to him. At least until they slowed, not quite stopping, just enough to loop off of the road and back around. Two drove off the left shoulder of the road while the third lumbered off the right. Volk remained impassive and stationary as all three came back around. They came to a stop around him, circling him. The rovers’ strange, high-pitched engines shut down one by one, until it was once more quiet.

Volk internally sighed, grip tightening on the stick.

So it would come to this then.

Then again, it always had.

A hatch popped open on the back of one of the vehicles. It swung out and down to form a ramp, and from within the green boxy rover three figures exited. Volk’s first impression was that they were short. Very short. He himself stood at an average height, and while not exactly short he was seldom the tallest in a given room. These three? The tallest came up to his chin, and barely at that.

The next impression was one of a military. Their suits were utilitarian, the same shade of green as the rover. The faceplates of their helmets were a reflective yellow, completely concealing the faces behind them. One led the other two, and Volk decided that they were the leader. Another thing he noted was the fact that they were all unarmed. Part of him had expected a rifle or pistol trained towards him, so it came as a surprise. They seemingly didn’t want violence.

Looks could be deceiving though. Volk remained for the most part motionless, only his head moving to track the three as they approached him. They came to a stop five paces away, the trio looking among themselves. They were silent, at least to him. Their helmets twitched, and he got the impression of communication, maybe through radios in helmets. The air felt too thin for sound to travel through well, so that was the explanation that made sense. The two in the cave might have been talking in the same way, Volk noted.

A beat passed, and he began to get impatient. One of them looked to the leader, reaching up with a hand to fiddle with some sort of object attached to its suit.

And suddenly the thin air was filled with the same incomprehensible language he had heard in the cave.

Volk cocked his head at hearing them speak. Maybe a woman, but it could have been a guy with a really high voice. The language was… strange. It sounded like the same dialect that two in the cave spoke with. It wasn’t as rough or grating as Russian, but not as melodic as Spanish or French. The vowels and consonants seemed about even in number, if that made any sense. Whatever it was, he’d figure it out in a minute like all the others thanks to his Voice.

He or she repeated what they said, this time more urgently. In the absence of anything else to do, Volk just gestured like he did before with those two in the cave, to keep speaking. Or he hoped that’s what it would be interpreted as. It could have been an insult to them for all he knew, what with the way one of the two in the cave had tried to shoot him.

The message was repeated again, some of the words at the beginning were different. Volk was almost at the cusp of understanding… but couldn’t. Somehow. As if the Voice, his ability to learn new languages from just a few spoken words made any sense at all.

The lead figure cut off whatever external communicator it was using, falling relatively silent and back upon their radios. Without further words to him, they all turned and walked back into the rover from which they came, the hatch closing up behind them.

What?

Volk remained standing there, perplexed, the whole experience leaving him confused. He thought about knocking on the hatch, trying to ask them to come out. But past experience told him that if he couldn’t understand them, they couldn’t hear him. He’d be mute for all intents and purposes, until his Ability puzzled out their language.

Volk turned and strode away in annoyance, passing between the two rover truck things and onward down the road. Behind him, the cluster of vehicles remained motionless and silent. He had begun to reflect on the strange encounter when he heard it, a sound that was all too familiar to him. He spun around in a blink of an eye, facing the rovers-

Just in time to watch all three explode in quick succession.

He had just enough time to register that they had each been struck by some kind of missile from the sky above, their rocket motors being the sound he had heard when the shockwave washed over him and knocked him back. He landed in the dirt, sliding to a stop on his back and facing up.

Which was a perfect angle to watch the point of the fourth missile impact him squarely in the face.

The world spun. He didn’t hurt, he never did. His body came to a rest, half in and half out of the shallow crater the last missile had excavated. Volk climbed to his feet, a feeling of shock and anger burning in his mind.

Nearby, the three rovers had been turned into what Volk could only describe as confetti. There was little that was even vaguely recognizable left of them. A couple of pulverized wheels, and what might have been an engine block was all that he could identify. Even the road was reduced to shattered rubble. The missiles must have been truly powerful, to cause that much raw damage.

Volk looked up and skyward as he tried to figure out where the weapons had come from, and it didn’t take long to find it. There, high above him, circling overhead. He could make it out clearly, although it was too high up to make out any details. Some sort of aircraft, but whether it was manned or unmanned Volk didn’t know.

If only he had his Eye and his Flight…

But he didn’t.

Volk continued watching it for a while, before the distant aircraft flew off and away, disappearing over the horizon a minute after. For some reason, he had a feeling he would see it again.

Maybe by then his Eye would be working again. Or his Flight. Until then…

Volk stepped out of the crater, intending to continue down the path he had chosen, only to step on something. He looked down, and was surprised to see the cane beneath his foot. He reached down, picking up the slender white object, scrutinizing it as he did. It was pristine and untarnished, despite the raw destruction that had happened there mere moments ago. He had been holding it still when he’d been knocked off his feet, when a warhead capable of excavating a shallow crater had detonated mere inches away. Not even the Martian dust seemed to stick to it. Quite fortunate, for it to survive.

Volk decided that he was keeping it.

Walking stick in hand, Volk stepped over and around bits of wreckage and debris, and headed back the way he intended to go.

He still had a question that needed answering. And at this rate, he was going to have several more.

 

Spoiler: Author's Preface

A couple of notes for astute readers. A Martian year is almost twice the length of an Earth year (687 days versus 365). By our calendar, our co-protagonist(s) here are all a little over 18 years old.

Another fun fact that I found in my research: Martian dust is ten times finer than powdered sugar. It's also toxic as all fuck - besides likely being able to cause mars-grade lung disease, it's loaded with perchlorates. It's never explained in the Martian how Mark Watney was able to grow potatoes in dirt that's a percent chlorine by weight.

Now, on with the show.

Pask panted from exertion as the treadmill slowed and came to a stop. They had been running hard, their morning jog harder than most days. Lately they had been steadily improving, albeit slower than they had wanted. They had managed to make it to a full four miles before they began to feel the burn, forcing them to slow down.

Nomali, their kind, weren’t really built for physical exertion. Not like imali or remeli. Not that it was ever going to stop them from pushing themselves all the more to make up for it. Pask knew they could be better. They had to be better.

They grabbed the flask of water they had left just outside the exercise pod, popping the cap and taking a long swig. They were going to have to work harder, much harder if they wanted to join the Outrider Corps. The physical requirements were steep, and while Pask felt that they could meet them easily right now if they wanted, there was always room for improvement.

Pask set down their now empty flask and began to stretch, using the post-workout routine Ayan had taught them. First the legs, then the thighs. They repeated the stretches four more times, until the worst of the burn subsided.

“Pask,” they heard someone say behind them. They turned to find Tula, having just walked out of their own pod. “Looking fine as always.”

“Flattery, Tul?” Pask replied. “You know it won’t get you far with me.”

“Worth a shot,” he chuckled. Tula walked right up, into their personal space. Before Pask could react he was there, pressing his lips to theirs. Without thinking Pask opened their mouth, letting his tongue dart in and explore. They were like that for a brief moment, before he broke the kiss.

“Damn,” he breathed huskily in their ear, “You’re getting better at letting me in.”

Pask couldn’t help but laugh. “What would Ay think? Of us like this?”

“She isn’t here, is she?” Ayan wasn’t of course, the Hab’s doctor having given her a waiver regarding physical exercise until her wrist healed. “Besides, I don’t think she would mind.” To emphasize, Tula gave their butt a squeeze with his hand, causing them to squeak.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, who do you think taught me?”

Before Pask could demand an answer to that, Tula stepped away, turning and scooping up his own bag and leaving them there leaning against the wall, about to fall down with their head in a spin.

Pask shook their head. They still needed to shower, clean themselves off after the run and to cool the fire Tula stoked in their chest. Not to mention the kloms-long list of chores they had to do today as punishment for yesterday.

They stepped into a vacant nearby shower, hanging their bag on a hook by the door and disrobing. Pask peeked off the thin top, followed by their sport shorts. Tula or Ayan weren’t there to join and distract them today, so Pask’s mind drifted a bit.

Back to yesterday.

Obviously, the matron didn’t believe them, neither them or Ayan. Tula had just shrugged at his interrogation, opting to tell the truth. Not that the Matron believed any of them. The Matron had seemingly decided that they’d concocted a story to cover for Ayan dropping her tool down a hole somewhere, had decided they were lying and that was that, totally disregarding the fact that they’d been completely honest.

Pask remembered the black-clad person. Rising from the ground from where they had been sitting, a glowing red eye seemingly boring into their very soul…

Pask shook their head. Whoever, whatever that person had been, they were probably dead now. Without a heat source, nights on Dust were utterly unforgiving. Pask thought about trying again to convince the Matron to send someone out to the cave, to confirm what they had said or to at least go get their guidestick. But they doubted she would have any of it.

Their guidestick. The Recall engram had probably been damaged or broken, considering the guidestick didn’t follow Pask out of the cave. Although if Ayan’s injury was anything to go by, the Protection Engram was probably intact. Hopefully it would keep the stick in one piece until Pask managed to get it back.

They turned off the water, drying themselves off with a towel from their bag. A moment later they were re-dressed in underarmor and a jumpsuit, colored reddish orange for janitorial duty. As Pask was finishing up and sliding on their boots, they heard a knock at the shower door.

“I’m coming out,” Pask called out, collecting their bag from the hook and opening the door.

Only to find the Matron herself there, waiting for them.

“M- my Matron!” Pask said, bowing for her. “I wasn’t expect-”

“We don’t need to be formal here, Pask,” the Matron spoke. “I just wanted to speak to you for a moment.”

They stood up from the bow. “All right.”

“I know you were upset yesterday, after you left my office,” she said. “I wanted to wait to speak to you, after you had calmed down.”

Pask nodded.

The Matron gestured to her side. “Care to walk and talk?”

Pask nodded again, and the Matron led the way. “I wanted to start by stating that I don’t hate you Pask, nor the others.”

“Okay,” Pask said, not knowing what else to say.

“With that said, please don’t resent or hate me either. I do care for the three of you.”

“Why…” Pask trailed off, trying to find the words. “Why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“Pask?”

Pask stopped, the Matron taking a few steps more before realizing they had. “You know, I’ve always faced so much… resistance,” they ground out, “From everyone. I try to do something productive, something that would benefit the Hab, and I always face push back. Doesn’t matter what, they stop me. I could try to be a- a hydroponicist like Tula, and they’d say I’m not cut out for plants. I want to be an Outrider, and yet the Sergeants keep saying that I’m too young, too inexperienced. They mocked me, said I should try gardening or something ‘simple.’”

“Pask-”

Pask chuckled darkly. “And when I try to go out with the others for ride-alongs to get that experience, ask them to give me that chance? Do you know what happens then? I’ll tell you, they give me the same spiel and the same run-around!” They were almost shouting now. “I’m almost ten! Isn’t that old enough!?”

The Matron tried to interrupt them again but Pask kept going. Part of them wanted to stop but they couldn’t. “Ayan and Tula get everything and more, so why can’t I? Why is everyone trying to stop me from doing the thing I want to do? Because I’m pretty sure I have a damned good reason for why, and it has to do with what’s not between… my…”

Pask hadn’t noticed her come up to them, didn’t notice the Matron as she wrapped her arms around them until they felt her arms hugging them. She went quiet, shocked at the gesture.

“You’re important, Pask,” she said. “Please believe me. There might not be anyone else in this Hab as important as you.”

“There’s lots,” she murmured. “You, Kolmar, Sabbis. All the other Outriders.”

“Not to me there aren’t.” She broke her embrace, to look down at Pask. “If I let you get hurt, what would my sister have thought of me? I promised her that I would protect you. You’re all I have left of her.”

Pask was quiet for a moment. “I… I wanna learn,” Pask tried to explain. “I want to learn how to protect myself. How to be a good person, a great person. I… I don’t want to be some sort of, of, of brood sow.”

“What-” The Matron let them go, turning Pask around to look them in the eye. “What ever gave you that idea, Pask?”

“I know about the Rites, I’m not a fool.” Pask looked away. “I know how the others look at me, can’t wait until my Night.”

The Matron shook her head. “No, Pask, I wouldn’t ask that of you. I don’t know who gave you that idea first, but I won’t allow something like that if you don’t want it. No, it would just be the three of you.”

“What?”

“You, Ayan, Tula? You’ve… grown into one another as a pod. Like cogs in a well-worn machine. Despite what the others may think, I’m not going to ask that you partake in that ceremony. You have my word.”

“Oh.”

“Despite what has happened in the past, I’m not going to hold that over your head Pask,” the Matron continued. “I promised your sister that we’d be better than those hidebounds at Central, or those moral-less Outcasts. I’m not going to break that promise, Pask, trust me.”

“Okay.” Pask remained silent for a bit. “So what now?”

“Well as I recall you have a lot of work to get to, little nomali,” She patted her jumpsuit. “Get going, I don’t think you’d want to keep Tula and Ayan waiting, do you?”

“N- No, no I don’t.” Pask went silent as they turned to walk away. Internally they were happy at that. But why were they still so upset?

“Pask, I forgot to ask last night, but…” The Matron went silent. “Where is that guidestick of yours?”

Pask stopped. If they mentioned the stranger again, the Matron would probably just get upset again. “It’s back in the cave,” Pask told the truth.

“I see. Well go on then, the others are waiting for you.”

Pask left the Matron there in the hall, their mind on other things. It didn’t take them long to find the others. Tula and Ayan were in one of the storage rooms, anticlockwise and a floor up. They were garbed in the same outfit they themself wore, and were gathering cleaning supplies for that day’s activities.

“Guess who finally decided to show up,” Ayan said with an unhappy scowl. Her arm was splinted and in a sling, which would hinder what she could do. Their punishment detail was no doubt weighing heavily on her, especially with only the one good hand.

“I was talking to the Matron,” Pask explained. “She met me as I was finishing up with exercise.”

“Oh? What’d she have to say?”

“I…” Pask wasn’t sure how to answer it. “She just wanted to ask me about how I was doing.”

“Huh. Sentimental old hag.”

“Tula!” Ayan shouted.

“Well I’m not wrong,” Tula shot back in exasperation. “I didn’t even do anything and I’m getting reamed here.”

“That’s collective punishment Tula.”

“Still sucks Ay.”

Pask ignored them, walking past to open up a closet to gather the needed cleaning supplies. If they had to listen to the two of them bickering, it was going to be a long day.

-==-​

Volk saw the ruins long before he arrived at them.

At least he was fairly sure it was the right term to describe the collapsed husks of buildings, as he’d only ever heard the word used to describe things made of weathered and eroded stone. As he approached, he decided that the ruins might have been habitation of some sort once upon a time. But now it was all destroyed, veritable hills and mountains of wreckage and steel. A road forked off to it from the one he walked along and Volk detoured down it, toward something that was interesting to him. There was very little that wouldn’t have been, in this barren landscape.

There were signs of scorching here and there on the ground, of what could only have been battle damage. There were craters too, of the kind caused by massive blasts. A battle had once happened here some time ago. Nothing seemed recent but it was hard for him to tell. Volk approached a low wall of metal around the ruin, about as high as his knees. Where it met the road that led to the ruins it formed a high arch to let vehicles pass beneath. It seemed to form a perfect circle around the ruins, but whatever purpose it might have served was lost on Volk.

Volk stepped through the arch, and into what he decided was the actual habitat proper. Various small buildings had been situated around what was a much larger central structure, all of which lay in various states of destruction and disrepair. Some seemed mostly intact, while most were somewhere between dilapidated and skeletal in terms of destruction. All of the smaller buildings had been connected to the larger central one through cylindrical tubes, many of which had long sagged and collapsed. Some were peeled open by explosions, exposing what had once been pressurized corridors within.

Here and there Volk noticed more of that odd geometric language written on the different buildings, this time in different colors and fonts. Some of the lettering was faded, perhaps there since the structures were built while the rest seemed fresher. Had it been advertising of some kind, or perhaps instructions or directions? He would have to learn the writing to know.

Volk stopped before the largest of the ruins, situated at the center of the rest. A large portion seemed to have been habitation of some sort, before it was destroyed. The remains of the upperworks seemed to indicate that, with what might have been windows. A large, squat building was attached to it, and Volk got the impression of it being a garage from the busted gates lining the front and how the road spread out and led to it.

Whatever the buildings had been used for and whoever or whatever had lived there, they were either long gone or long dead, and either way they never got the chance to rebuild. The sun was setting though, and Volk wasn’t too keen on spending another night out in the darkness. He’d find a room, something with four walls and a ceiling and wait out the night.

Looking around for an entrance, Volk found it at the front center of the larger building. It might have been an airlock at some point, but the outer door had been blown inward from what might have been an explosion and the inner doors were similarly dislodged. Now the entrance was gone, destroyed in anger by an unknown attacker.

Walking stick in hand, Volk picked his way through the doors, stepping around broken windows, debris and detritus. The inside was predictably dark and unlit. Volk had expected that, his Sense letting him see in the darkness despite its totality. The interior was charred and burnt, the rooms off to the side of the main corridor showing evidence of a brief but intense fire. It was somehow… odd, to Volk. He seemed to recall from somewhere that air on Mars was too thin for a flame to burn, and contained no oxygen for fuel. It might have been a bit of trivia that Pipes had told him long ago, or one of the Flight.

Volk set aside the oddity, instead focusing on looking for anything that might clue him in on the building’s purpose. He found it at the end of the hallway from the entrance’s corridor. Volk stepped out into a large open space roughly circular in shape. There was a central recessed area, ringed by tables and chairs of varying sizes. There might have been a stage at the far end of the chamber, but that part of the room had collapsed in on itself and was buried under rubble. Much of the floor had also given way, sinking into the space below. Each side of the room had a long bar, behind which were shelves that might have once held bottles. Now the charred shelves were largely vacant, filled only with traces of broken or melted glass.

Volk had found his answer, he recognized an upscale nightclub when he saw it. He walked through the space, noting traces of fading sunlight filtering through missing sections of the roof. He walked over to the bar on the right side, past burnt overturned tables. Around and behind the bar he found shattered and broken drinking glasses, what might have been supplies for the bar itself.

All of it reminded him of older times, better times back on Earth.

But there was none of that here.

Volk continued to explore, leaving the room behind. He found a stairwell near the center of the structure, around which had perhaps been elevators. The doors were open on one of them, a black void beyond. The stairs though were intact and reliable, so he took them. For some reason Volk wanted to learn more about the place, find evidence of the people that might have once dwelt there. He stepped out onto the next floor, into what could have been office space. There was less fire damage here compared to below. The walls and furniture merely looked singed rather than charred and burnt. He found chairs and desks, a place where someone might have once conducted business work. The administration side of the club downstairs, perhaps?

Volk turned around, back to the stairs. He continued climbing up, skipping the third and fourth floors and stopping at the landing for the fifth. The stairwell abruptly ended there, a section above having buckled and collapsed onto the stairs below. From the outside it seemed to have been about where the total destruction to the upper floors began. Peeking into the fifth floor showed more of the same, with collapsed ceilings and buckled walls.

He turned around and went back down to the fourth. The damage was less severe there, both from fire and the destruction above. The hallway before him was reminiscent of a barracks or a hotel corridor, either wall having repeating doors. He walked down the hallway, once more toward the front of the structure where there was an unobstructed window looking out. Or there had been, as the window had been seemingly blown outward. Looking out and down, Volk realized that it was one of the windows he stepped over before entering the building.

Overall, Volk decided that the sight was impressive. He could see quite a ways, being several stories up. He saw the way he had come, the distant road and the side road that led to the ruins. As he continued to watch he saw a dust cloud, rising in the distance from the direction he had been walking toward. He focused on the vehicle that appeared, and noticed immediately that it was different from the three he had seen earlier. It was hard to tell from the distance but it might have been civilian, or at least not overtly military. He watched it pass, and then disappear over the horizon and out of sight.

Volk turned away from the window, looking back the way he came. Who had lived here? He wondered. There was a door nearby and to his right. He stepped over to it and swung it open.

Inside he found what might have once been a hotel room. It was nicely furnished as far as he could tell, a queen size bed and a kitchenette on opposite sides of the room. A low couch faced an intact window, looking out on the highway beyond. Volk was thankful that there were no bodies or remains of the former occupants. If there had been any dead, they weren’t here.

Volk closed the door behind him. Outside the sun was setting once more, the distant ball of gas and plasma slipping beneath the horizon. In the fading light, Volk saw his reflection to his left. Set in the wall was a full length mirror.

For the first time in a long time, Volk had a chance to scrutinize his own reflection. One could be forgiven if they thought he was wearing a costume. He seemingly wore a skintight bodysuit, parts of it molded to resemble an outfit some silver age comic book hero might have worn. Complementing the look was a long coat he had grown fond of, but it didn’t strictly need to be that. The coat was an extension of him, a piece of clothing molded and shaped by his will.

A hero. A paragon.

What a joke. All he looked like was a bum.

His coat and torso were covered in thick, reddish Martian dust, as were his helmet and practically every other part of him. He had tried to brush it off, but the powder was so fine that it only smeared instead of brushed off. His Eye still burned with dim red light in the center of the mask that had long become his face. He could have used a shower, at the very least.

Volk turned away from his reflection, looking further around the room. There didn’t seem to be any personal effects, no framed photos of strangers on the walls. It seemed like a room that people could dwell in but not live in. It was likely a hotel room of sorts. Perhaps the place had been a rest stop of some kind?

Volk just shrugged. Questions, without answers. In the absence of anything else to do, he walked over to the couch and sat down, laying the cane on the couch next to him as he did. He set his arms over the edge of the couch, trying his best to relax.

It was… comfortable, cold. It was more comfortable than the boulder that he’d sat on earlier at least. At this rate, Volk wondered if his next sunset would be watched from somewhere with actual air pressure. Twilight became darkness, and once more Volk was left with only his own thoughts for company.

Those, and a question still burning on his mind. Although it was now one among others.

Spoiler: Author's Notes

And so the story marches on. Who or what is Volk? And what are these Elin?

In good time my dear readers, in good time.