Ares The Dog

Credit: NASA

This story was started by Ethelthefrog way back in June, 2010, but THX0477 and 32 Squared picked it up again recently.  Just for fun I added to the ending (at least when this is posted). I can’t take ANY credit for it, but it is a fun story and I contributed one chapter, so what the hell.

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(It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad Mars – prequel by 32Squared)

Laika’s commander, Miranda Cammermeyer, sat in the mess hall, sipping Vanilla & Bran Formul@. Her arms and legs ached; the concoction would repair her waking bones.

She silently sat, dictating recent events into the ship’s computer log. Aunt B was a cognitive based system, the crew were forced to attempt all activities on their own, Aunt B would only intervene when all reasonable possibilities were tried. Basically, most emergencies weren’t Emergencies, just mental laziness.

“May 13th, 2110. Our landing onto Mars’ surface was too soft; we sunk in 6 feet of powder. Aunt B. suggested a thruster blast; it took another week for the cloud to settle. I might calibrate the seismometers today if the rovers haven’t done it yet. I’ve crafted the first Martian Dustshoes, based on a Swiss snowshoe design.”

“Ares has turned into a liability, I can’t locate her. The men told me she dug into the duct system. But Aunt B could easily locate her heat signature; the men are playing games. I’m tired. End log.”

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(The original Ares The Dog – by ethelthefrog)

Miranda decided that today was going to be a good day. Today, she was going Outside for the first time. As mission commander, it was her privilege to be the first human to set foot on another planet.

Six months of claustrophobic coasting in zero-G had put something of a strain on her team. Six was too few: she would definitely recommend a larger group for the next mission.

She hung up her favourite “Girl on Mars” skirt (so good to be able to wear one again) in her locker and climbed into the bulky pressure suit. Like everything here, it was much lighter than it looked and the over-large backpack was easier than some packs she’d used on Earth.

Formalities over, history made, she headed south, just for a stroll. The unnaturally close horizons rolled slowly towards her. After about a kilometer, she crested a rise and Echus Chasma exploded into view. 4km high cliffs flanked an 80km-wide valley. She gazed in awestruck silence.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

“Oh, God,” she groaned into her suit com, “not again.”

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(Sequel; Questions Within, Questions Without – by THX0477)

“Commander, are you alright?” the lilting voice came over the intercom, the now familiar Welsh accent adding that extra measure of concern.

Miranda stretched her neck as much as she could to each side within the suit, an outward attempt to right the brain inside. “I’m fine. Just admiring the view,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t forget that the seismic sensors need to be…” The voice trailed away from attention as the lone woman on the face of Mars scanned the horizon. She’d spent the first third of the voyage pulling herself through the conduits and corridors the ship. She’d say exploring, familiarizing, or exercising.

She’d been looking for that damn dog.

“Ma’am,” the voice came again, “Mirander, are you alright?” She had to smile at how the British lieutenant always slurred her name.

Somewhere a dog barked, and wiped that smile right off her face.

Miranda erupted into her mic, “Son of a…” Eyes shut tight and lips now pursed, she stood still and quiet. She silenced the coms and waited.

§

(Sequel; Laika – by 32Squared)

Miranda hated the suit, she couldn’t worry her nails. Her cuticles ached to be in her mouth, peeling away under her teeth. She stared out over the expanse and watched a tiny earth sink below the horizon.

At the start, The Mission wasn’t fair to her. She demanded a female counterpart; it was no one’s business why this was important to her. First, the computer’s voice was changed to female. Then her male peers almost boycotted the flight when she was awarded the Commander position. Finally, the Russians politically sealed Miranda’s lonely fate by choosing a Central Asian bitch to fly with them. Ares!

After observing the men interact with Ares, Miranda finally understood what the experienced MARS program personnel already knew; her male crew couldn’t keep their hands off Ares. They argued over who she would sleep with, who would feed her and who she favored most.

In the peace and quiet, Miranda cut the silence. “Aunt B, locate Ares. If she’s not out here next to me within the hour, euthanize her.”

§

(My Sequel – Vessel)

In less time than it took to send a mission log back to Earth, Miranda’s fate was sealed by Aunt B. The aggression in the last message was clear and Ares’s well being on this mission was far more important than any of the humans; even more important than Aunt B.

The alien shuttle would be in orbit around Mars within the next ten hours; the probe had made it clear that the dog would be the only life form on Mars that was capable of handling the long stasis back to the medical ship orbiting the galaxy. Once there, Ares would be modified to communicate and speak on the aliens behalf and sent back to Earth. They had found, through trial and error, that the best way to initiate first contact was through innocent creatures.

So without hesitation, Aunt B. shut off Miranda’s life support systems and silenced her com – the life of one human meant little when it could save them all.

“Commander O’Brien,” Said Aunt B., “I’ve bad news. Commander Cammermeyer has suffered catastrophic suit failure. You’re now in command.”

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