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CHAPTER 20:
Visions...



Mars Exploration Consortium @TheRealMarsX

Mars Three crew inflated the guest quarters module today. It is the fifth permanent structure, making the facility the largest—and first permanent installation, on Mars. With the arrival of the replacement crew in two months, the facility and mission have been renamed ‘Marsbase One.’

O’Dour @TheOakTree

@TheRealMarsX, has anyone found my car . . . keys?

ChirpChat, February 2043


“What the hell?” Glenn called Marty as soon as he finished reading the latest communication from MarsX Mission Medical Command. “‘Marsbase One crew is in good health and good spirits as they prepare to welcome their replacements. More than two years on Mars does not seem to have adversely affected the health of any of the crew. Chief medical officer Yvette Barbier foresees no problems for the upcoming six-month return trip to Earth.’”

“And?” Marty prompted.

“She—or MMC—is leaving out a lot. Green—Steve, not Melissa—was suffering from scurvy until I pointed it out to them last month. Amit is showing signs of unacceptable bone loss. Taketani has a rash that won’t respond to topical steroids. It’s probably fungal. What in the world—or out of it—is going on up there? I think they’re going to need to be quarantined both here and on Earth. They are all showing odd titers for immunoglobins. IgG and IgM are low, and IgE is elevated. It’s amazing they’re not having hives, urticaria and asthma—I worry about exposure even to the replacement crew.”

“Shep, it’s the first time that any astronaut crew has been totally away for Earth this long. Six months out, more than two years on the surface. By the time they get home, it will be over three years. Moonbase and Heinlein Station are still working on thirteen-month maximum shifts. Do you really expect there to be no medical complications? Look, I know you’re just blowing off steam, but you’ve got to be careful. Don’t give anyone reason to question your professionalism.”


Despite being operated by Space Force, Moonbase had a sizeable civilian contingent as well. Normally, it was a close-knit community—very often, the astronauts and specialists trained together, or knew each other professionally.

So why does it feel as if I’m being shunned? Glenn asked himself.

The dining hall was run by a contract service, much as had military base dining facilities since the turn of the twentieth century. There was a mix of freshly cooked food, prepackaged food that simply needed reheating, and what would be considered “vending machine” food on Earth—mainly snacks and beverages. Residents held their wristcomms up to a reader, then selected food items or placed an order at the service window. There were sufficient tables and seating for groups of two to eight people at a time—but there didn’t seem to be any vacancies today. He’d approached one table of scientists from the bio and chem labs to see if he could squeeze in, but they’d quickly closed the gap as he approached.

In another corner were four people seated at a table for six. He’d noticed several glances his way, followed by whispers, and hard looks. Despite what might have been gossip at his expense, he’d walked over to join them, only to have everyone get up and depart before he reached the table. Guenter was seated alone at a table for two, and waved when he’d entered the dining hall, but he’d been called away. He shrugged—an odd-looking gesture in one-tenth gee—and gave a small wave of regret as he exited.

Yeah, I’m being shunned.


“It’s a hell of a thing, Nik. I trained with these folks. Some of us have been friends for years.”

“It’s different, now, Shep. Even if you weren’t the lone dissenter in MMC, you’re the Other to them.”

It was an ongoing topic from early therapy sessions. Humans naturally feared or distrusted anything that was too obviously different than their experience. Animators and model makers had discovered what was called the Uncanny Valley—clearly cartoonish characters were accepted, and as the illustration became more realistic, people reacted to it accordingly. However, there was a point at which the imitation of a human became close to, but not quite realistic. A “valley” appeared in the curve of steadily increasing attraction because the simulation was uncanny, inhuman, or unrealistic.

Nik warned that Shep’s bionics could trigger an Uncanny Valley reaction in some, although they’d both thought that the positive publicity he’d received courtesy of Jen had mostly eliminated negative reactions. It was possible they were wrong. It was also possible this was the rejection of someone perceived as an outsider who was criticizing too much.

“I know, Nik, but this is new. It wasn’t like this when I first got here.”

“Then they’re reacting to you. How’s your attitude?”

“A quarter million miles, give or take a thousand.”

Attitude, not altitude. Damn flyboy jokes.”

“Same thing. I’m a quarter million miles from friends and family.”

“Uh huh, and how is she?”

“How would I know? She’s at HI-SLOPE undergoing isolation phase.”

“So, did you talk to her before the phase started?”

“No.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“Yeah, she commed me at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s.”

“And did you answer the phone?”

“I texted her back.”

“You idiot! You texted her back? Dammit, Shep, what’s wrong with you?”

“I . . . I’m . . . it’s too soon. I was an idiot, but I can’t take it back.”

“So, call her, text her—send her flowers and a Valentine’s Day card! It’s only two days away.”

“I can’t. She’s in strict isolation with her training group for another month.”

“Send a card. Not an email, not a text, a real-life physical Valentine’s Day card. Even deep space missions have communication from home. I bet you could even get your buddy Professor Johannsen to deliver it.”

“Um, but I still need to get a card and figure out what to say.”

“You won’t have to say anything. Sending the card will be the message.”

“Still, quarter million miles, remember? How am I going to find a card on a paperless base . . . in space . . . and get it to Mauna Kea?”

“Good grief, Shep, you’re hopeless. You go on the internet, search Valentine’s Day cards, pick the one you like, they’ll print it in Waimea, or more likely in Kona or Hilo, and they’ll stick it on a drone and deliver it.”

“Eleven thousand feet up the side of Mauna Kea?”

“Okay, so they put it in a pizza delivery autocar. It’ll just cost a bit more. Do it, Shep.”

“I—I’ll think about it.”

“Hopeless idiot. I’m not entirely sure what she sees in you, and it’s for sure you’re better off with her than without her, you jerk. FIX this! I have spoken.”

“Yes, Nik,” Glenn replied sheepishly.


Living in space caused many problems. Aside from vacuum and radiation, the biggest issue was gravity. The initial space stations were in free-fall—zero gee. They now all had rotating living quarters to simulate gravity, but that didn’t change the fact that the Moon—at one-sixth gee—and Mars—at just over one-third gee—simply were not the conditions under which humans had evolved.

Normally, gravity pulled blood and other fluids to the legs and extremities. Not so in low gravity, and pressure issues in the brain, eyes, and around the heart led to neurological and cardiovascular problems. It was also difficult to maintain bone and muscle strength without devoting a significant amount of each waking cycle to exercise. Moonbase personnel had a rigorous physical program and regular medical checkups. The first two Mars missions weren’t long enough to test extended duration exposure to zero point three seven gees. The data Glenn saw suggested either that the Mars Three—sorry, Marsbase One—crew had slacked off on their exercise, or that Mars gravity was still not sufficient to maintain Earth-like physical health.

That wasn’t what really worried Shepard, though. He was concerned that three years’ isolation would adversely affect the immune health of the crew. History was filled with stories of visitors from distant lands infecting indigenous populations with diseases they’d never previously encountered. Science fiction writers and futurists had predicted that distant star colonies could experience immunological drift, especially if one colony developed resistance and became carriers of pathogens that other colonies had not experienced in years, decades, or even centuries. The data that he was tasked with analyzing suggested that there had been immunological drift in the Mars personnel in under three years. Partially because they had remained in closed, sterile environments the whole time.

The components of the immune system primarily responsible for antibody production—IgG and IgM—appeared to be reduced, while the immunoglobin mediating allergic response—IgE—was elevated. More importantly, there was also reduction in B and T type white blood cells. Immunodeficiencies heightened the risk of opportunistic infections in which normally benign pathogens could become life-threatening.

Something needed to be done if it was true. He didn’t shy away from pulling Rick Morykwas out of the Dragonfly wreckage. He didn’t back down from rescuing that mother and children from their overturned car. For that matter, he didn’t back down from returning to Moonbase, even though he was not entirely trusted up here.

It didn’t matter whether or not his own health was on the line—the health and safety of others was more important. He’d taken an oath to heal the sick and treat the injured. He’d also taken an oath to serve his country and fellow man. He’d renewed one, and still felt himself bound to the other even if Command didn’t agree. Glenn held himself accountable to both of those oaths.

Glenn Shepard never backed down from a challenge, and it was doubly important that he not back down from this one. There was a job to do, and he was the person to do it.


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