In the Beginning...

In the Beginning…

Mars

July 18^th, 2656

            Although he had been stationed here for more than half of his life, John had never really gotten used to the absolute beauty and stark magnificence the crimson-red vistas of Mars had to offer.  He enjoyed the view that his tinted visor gave him as he trudged along, stopping for a moment to take in his surroundings.  He’d been to Nepal once - a trip he had made himself take as a thirtieth birthday present.  The Himalayan Range had floored him. He had never seen anything so overwhelmingly big in all his travels, not until he had come here, anyway.  The titanic mountain rose above him like a tidal wave engulfing a grain of sand.  Even now, thirty-five years later, the sheer size of the dormant volcano sent shivers up his spine.

            Twilight was upon this part of the red planet and the great juggernaut would soon cast a shadow large enough to consume every square kilometer of Olympus I, the capital city of the new world. Major John Glenn Cutter’s emotions got the best of him for a moment as he gazed over the cobweb shaped, multi-domed city sprawled out to the northwest.  If the planet only knew that it was about to die.  He shook his head in an attempt to quell the spring of regret threatening to overcome him.  He inhaled sharply, steeling his nerves and centering his emotions. There was no sense worrying about it now. 

The shadow of the mountain whose namesake the city bore had already occulted A third of it.  It wouldn’t be long before the cherry sky gave way to an explosion of stars, the brightest of which would be a pale blue dot against the murky depths; Earth.  Almost as much history as there was space lay between these two worlds.  Six hundred earth-years had passed since man first walked on this surface.  Three hundred years later, Mars declared, and won her independence without a single shot being fired.  It was really a matter of necessity, and everybody knew it.  Over a period of time, the lower gravity, and dimmer light of the planet had changed her people, making a twentieth generation “Martian” taller and more sensitive to the light, than your average Terran.  Their cardiovascular system was no longer capable of supporting itself for longer than a decade in a “one-g” environment and for that reason, you didn’t see very many Martians on Earth, unless they had to be there. 

A definite advantage to the more relaxed environment was a longer life span.  Less gravity meant less wear and tear on the body.  Average life spans of one hundred and seventy, to one hundred-ninety years were common.  Every once and again someone would break the bicentennial mark and make the news.  Needless to say, Earth recognized the birth of a new species just as readily as Mars did and with unanimity the Solar-Congress declared Mars a sovereign world unto herself.

John checked his oxygen.  He had about thirty minutes left.  It would give him just enough time.  He resumed his desert walk toward the towering mountain.  He only had a few more klicks to go.

He allowed his mind to settle on his daughter and grandchild back on Earth.  He missed them.  The sentimental rush that threatened to take him earlier now came unopposed.  He cried freely wishing that he could see them just one more time. That, of course was impossible and he knew it.  Everything would be different now.  Since the species had been born, Martians and Terrans had lived in peace.  Not anymore – and humanity was about to pay the price for its own intolerance – Martian and Terran.  Nobody would be safe.  Not Earth, not her countless artificial colonies scattered across the solar system.  From Mars out, humans would be scrubbed from the face of the universe and nobody could do a damn thing about it.

He wondered how long it would take.  One year?  Five?  Ten at the longest.  Yes. Within a decade all that humankind was would be gone forever.  Nobody left to remember.

John had reached his destination.  He was standing at the top of a natural terrace that jutted from the edge of a mesa standing about fifty meters tall.  From here, he could see the city.  It was dark enough now that he could make out the tiny spacecrafts entering and leaving the spaceport of the alien metropolis below him.  He looked up and saw the vast expanse of space.  He felt exposed, naked before the starry eyes of the universe.  Mount Olympus was a shadow now, nothing more than a pitch-black enigma cast against a cold sky.  John took a steadying breath.  There wasn’t anything that could be done to save the future.  The future was now as set in stone as the past. 

The past.  He knew what they had set out to do was wrong.  Every ethical fiber of his being cried out against it.  In the end, however, he was a soldier.  His job was to carry out all of his orders, not only the ones he agreed with.  Besides, if he hadn’t done it, they would have killed him and found someone else.

The tears were gone now, replaced by a hollow, empty pit in his stomach.  The cold light from the stars illuminated his suit much the way a neon light does a white shirt. He felt like a white stain on a red planet. Up until now, humanity had always had the benefit of reviewing its’ history through the eyes of objectivity; always able to look back on past mistakes, learn from them and with any amount of applied common sense never live them again.  Not this time.  History in this insignificant part of the universe would come to an end in about a decade.

  With one last look at the city below him, then at the sky above, John let his gaze settle upon the hole in the night created by Olympus Mons.  With no more thoughts left to anchor him to the present, he removed the firearm holstered at his side, and blew his head into oblivion.