Red Soil — a sci fi story

Red Soil

The hum of the spacecraft was a constant companion. It was both comforting and unnerving. Comforting because it was a reminder that all systems were operational, that we were alive and en route. Unnerving because it underscored the fragility of our situation. Out here, millions of miles from Earth, we were reliant on this machine to keep us breathing.

I floated in the cockpit, glancing around at my crewmates. Dr. Elena Morales, our geologist and resident skeptic, was meticulously organizing her notes. Commander Alexei Volkov, the stoic Russian with an iron will, was reviewing mission protocols for the umpteenth time. Beside him, pilot Liu Chen was silently running simulations on his tablet. And then there was me, David Fisher, the mission’s lead biologist and the de facto mediator of our small, tense group.

Our mission was historic. We were the first humans to reach Mars, courtesy of SpaceX’s relentless drive and, let’s be honest, a fair bit of political maneuvering. But the history books would only remember one name as the first person to step on Mars. The importance of this moment was not lost on any of us. It was a symbol, a statement to the world about who we were and what we valued.

But symbols can be dangerous, especially when the world is watching.