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  With not much time left, I continue my descent. It only takes a few more minutes to get down to the bottom of the Macopa Trench, and finally I take a few stumbling steps forward. I've been to a few alien worlds in my time, but there's something about this trench, right now, that really fascinates me. Ever since I first saw a map of Io-5, I felt that the trench was something special; a massive fissure that runs across almost half of the planet's northern hemisphere, it's a truly awe-inspiring thing to witness, and as I make my way slowly toward the east, I can't help wondering if I'm truly the first living creature to ever come down here. I know it's a cliche, but now that I'm dying, I find myself thinking about whether there actually might be some kind of god up there, watching over the universe.

  And that's when I spot it.

  Up ahead, one of the rock formations looks strangely uniform and straight. I hurry over, my limp becoming more of a hobble, but as I get closer I realize that the rock appears to have been carved away. The geological survey records show very clearly that no mining equipment ever came down to the bottom of the trench, but there's no way that such a large section of the cliff-face could have been cut so cleanly without some kind of artificial intervention. As I get to the foot of the cliff, I reach out and run my hand over the smooth surface, and then I turn and see that there are similar carvings further along.

  After hobbling a few more meters, I spot shapes etched into the rock. I make my way over and stare for a moment, my heart starting to race in my chest as I realize that these aren't just some kind of abrasive force; someone has been down here, carving patterns and images into the cliff-face. Some of those patterns seem to take the form of regular, semi-repeating icons that run vertically in long strips, almost like some kind of language, while the images show shapes that could represent living creatures. I reach out and, again, run my fingers against the carvings, some of which start to crumble as soon as I touch them. Trying to avoid causing further damage, I take a few steps back and realize that this whole part of the cliff-face has been covered in intricate carvings arranged in a series of sections, seemingly mixing abstract shapes with attempts to depict objects and maybe even individuals. It's like the old cave paintings that were found many centuries ago on Earth, except these images have been carved directly into the rock.

  For the next few minutes, all I can do is limp forward slowly while I stare at the carvings that seem to run all along this stretch of the trench. I keep telling myself that there has to be some other explanation, that there's simply no way that these things are real. The only plausible explanation I can come up with is that humans must have come here and done this, perhaps as part of some kind of trick. Then again, why here, and why now? Sure, there are conspiracy groups who've tried to fake evidence of alien life before, but they've always been very quick to try to draw attention to their work, whereas these carvings seem to have been left here unnoticed. The problem is, if humans aren't responsible, then there's only one other possible explanation.

  For a moment, I allow myself to consider the impossible: the idea that there really might have been life on Io-5 once, alien life, and that they left behind these carvings either as a part of their culture or as a record of their passing. Although my leg is getting weaker and weaker, I keep limping along, staring at the carvings and hoping that at some point they might start to make sense. Geological surveys have shown that the Macopa Trench is at least one and a half million years old, which means that technically it might have been possible for an entire civilization to have risen and fallen down here, perhaps never even going up to the surface. We've scanned the depths of the planet many times, so I'm pretty sure that there can't be anything living below the surface, but I can't help wondering if maybe there was something here once, long ago.

  Aliens don't exist. I've always believed that humanity is alone out here. But now...

  Stopping after a moment, I stare up at a large carving that seems to be set apart from the rest. At first, it seems like another abstract shape, but finally I realize that I can make out some kind of central section, almost like a torso. Several appendage-like branches extend from either side of the torso, while at the top there's a bulbous shape that appears to have several smaller markings etched into its surface. There's a chance that I'm hallucinating, that my fever is making me see things that aren't really there, but I swear to God, it's almost as if this is a crude, slightly weathered and worn statue of some kind of creature. Years of dust storms have worn away its surface, and it's hard to get a good idea of the creature's exact shape or anatomy, but it's clearly a representation of something that was once alive.

  I drop to my knees.

  All my life, I've told myself that humanity is alone in the universe. When people talked about 'evidence' of aliens, I laughed at them; even when people said that there was probably life further out, I figured they were at best optimistic and at worst deluded. Now, though, faced with these carvings and in particular with this statue, I realize I can no longer deny the truth. They might be long gone by now, and they might have died off before humanity ever left Earth, but it's clear that once there were living creatures on this planet, with language and a civilization, and they left behind these carvings as a sign that they once existed.

  This, in a way, is the first contact between humanity and another species. Sure, there's no shaking hands and no exchange of information, but it's the first time a human has stared into the face of something that comes from another world.

  I struggle back to my feet and start hobbling back the way I came. I have no idea what I'm going to do next, but I have to somehow let other people know about this. Io-5 was long ago declared to be a dead world, and it's pure chance that I happened to stumble upon these carvings. If I don't send word back to Mars, many more years might go past before this evidence is uncovered again. As my leg crumbles, however, I tumble back down to the ground and a sharp pain bursts through my body. I try to get up again, but it's hopeless, and finally all I can do is turn and look back at the statue.

  This is it.

  This is how I'm going to die.

  Alone, on an alien world, faced with proof of something I never believed possible... and there's no way I can let anyone else know. It's my secret.

  I stare up at the top of the statue, at what I can only assume is the head of the creature, and I try to imagine what it must have been like when this planet was teeming with life. After a moment, I feel something hot and warm running down the side of my leg, and I realize that I'm starting to bleed out. Still, all I can do is stare at the statue and take my final breaths as I realize that although I was wrong all those years, at least I was wrong in a good way. There was alien life on Io-5 once, which means there's almost certainly other alien life out there somewhere. Humanity will make contact one day, and the universe isn't the cold and lonely place I always assumed.

  With my final breath, I smile. My body feels so heavy, and although I try to sit up, I eventually let my head rest on the planet's rocky surface. Staring up at the sky, I realize that I can suddenly feel and hear my heart pounding in my chest, getting louder and louder until, finally, it suddenly stops.

  Chapter Five

  Crizz

  "This is Io-5 mining station," I say firmly, trying to sound calm as the countdown timer dips below five minutes. "If any ships are in the immediate vicinity, please respond."

  I wait, but of course there's no reply.

  There was never going to be a reply.

  I'm just getting desperate.

  With trembling hands, I cycle through various frequencies while repeating the message, but I know deep down that I'm broadcasting straight into the void. Deep space isn't exactly filled with random vessels, and although Supreme Command has sent ships, they'll still be a few days away. With Sutter having taken the lander, I'm stuck here on a thirty-meter-wide spinning metal ball, hurtling around a dead planet as it prepares to explode.

  What was it Sutter said?

  "Think of it as a burning ship
."

  I guess the first thing that happens with a burning ship is that the rats jump overboard. Given Sutter's actions, I figure that's probably a fair analogy, although I doubt it's what he meant.

  Running back across the control room, I take another look at the monitor's main interface. I still can't believe that I haven't managed to find a way to bypass the firewalls that Sutter placed on the system, but he's locked the damn thing down and I'm finding it hard to concentrate; all I can think of is the moment when the charges detonate all over the station. I know he said I'd find a way to survive, but I can't help thinking that he was putting too much faith in me. I guess he truly believed that there's some other mind in my head, waiting to burst through.

  He's wrong.

  Bringing up a different schematic view, I start identifying the locations of the charges. I've only got four minutes, but a new idea has suddenly occurred to me: if I can find the charges, I might be able to uncouple them from the station and eject them into space. The monitor shows me a 3D image of the station, with red dots marking the location of eight separate charges. I stare at them for a moment, trying to work out if there's any way I could clear them all in time. The problem is, they're not exactly in accessible locations, and I'd have to do a space-walk to get them. Maybe if I'd thought of this option an hour ago, I'd have had a chance, but...

  I pause for a moment as various ideas race through my mind.

  "Think of it as a burning ship," Sutter said before he left. "What do people do when they're trapped on a burning ship?"

  As the countdown clicks down below the three-minute mark, I stare back across the control room. For a moment, it's as if my mind has become completely blank, and all I can think about is the fact that I've got about one hundred and eighty seconds before this entire station blows. Even if I survive the initial explosion, I'll be sucked out into the vacuum of space. I've had nightmares about this kind of thing, but I never thought it might actually happen. I guess it'll be a relatively quick way to die, but...

  I pause.

  "Think of it as a burning ship," Sutter said. "What do people do when they're trapped on a burning ship?"

  I take a deep breath.

  "You... bastard," I whisper, as I finally understand what he meant.

  It's insane, though.

  Then again, Sutter was always kind of crazy.

  Glancing up at the timer, I watch as it reaches the two-minute mark. Suddenly, my panicked mind seems to become much stronger, and I realize that there's only one option. Racing through to the main bay, I hurry over to the locker next to the control unit, and sure enough I find that there's a full-body space suit hanging inside. I pause for a moment, unable to get over the fact that this is an insane idea, but I figure I have to just trust that Sutter knew what he was talking about.

  It would normally take ten minutes to get into one of these suits, but I don't have any time to waste. My hands have stopped trembling, though, which helps as I scramble to get my body into the damn thing. With less than a minute to go, I grab the latex head shield and slip it over my head, before finally attaching the oxygen mask. All things considered, I could easily survive for up to forty-eight hours in this thing, even in the dark, cold vacuum of space. Turning to the bay's main door, I start typing in my access code, although I can't help but think back to that surveillance footage of Deborah Martinez being blown out of the station at this exact same point. Finally, I look up at the countdown and see that it's down to ten seconds.

  I pause.

  This is almost certainly a very bad idea.

  Hitting the final button, I brace myself. There's a hissing sound as the door depressurizes, and finally it slides open, sucking me out into space with such force that I swear my neck is almost snapped and my left hell smacks against the side of the bulkhead. Instinctively, I reach out to grab hold of the edge of the door, but it's too late. The force of the depressurization, combined with the speed of the station's orbit, means I'm already several hundred meters away by the time I even have a chance to properly react.

  "Help!" I shout instinctively, even though I know there's no point.

  I'm spinning furiously, but seconds later I manage to look back at the station just in time to see the charges detonate. Although it's already at least a thousand meters from me, I have a great view as the entire station is rocked by half a dozen small explosions. I guess I was expecting a huge fireball, but instead the explosions seem to have merely caused the bulkheads to be separated and I watch as the station just seems to fall apart. Seconds later, I've spun too far away and all I can see of the station is several large pieces of metal starting to plummet into Io-5's atmosphere. I guess they'll burn up long before they get near the surface.

  Fortunately, the force of my exit from the bay door sent me in the opposite direction, away from the planet and toward...

  I turn and look ahead, and I feel a strange shiver pass through my body as I realize that I'm floating out toward the vast starscape.

  There's nothing here.

  Trying to stay calm, I hold my hands up in front of my face and wriggle my fingers for a moment.

  The suit is heated, with a low-powered battery that should last two days, and the oxygen supply is designed to run for even longer. I've got no food or water, of course, but even if I did, it's not as if I could slip my mask off and have a quick snack. There's no kind of thruster or propulsion device attached to the suit, but it's not as if I've got anywhere to go. I'm just spinning through empty space.

  Is this what Sutter wanted?

  If I'd stayed on the station, I'd be dead by now. At least the pain would be over, and there'd be no more fear. Right now, all I can do is turn and look back at Io-5, which is already receding into the distance at an alarming rate. Instinctively, I reach out toward the planet, as if somehow I think I can claw my way back. At least if I'd gone down to the surface, I'd have had a chance of waiting until help arrived, but Sutter took the lander and now I guess he's down there, either dead or dying.

  So this is it.

  This is the end.

  I turn and look at the stars. For a moment, I consider pulling the oxygen mask away. At least if I did that, I'd die quickly. Reaching up to my neck, I almost start unbuckling the unit, but finally I realize that I can't bring myself to take that final step. Even though I know it's insane, I can't help hoping that somehow I'm going to be saved, that someone is going to show up from somewhere. I guess Sutter must have thought that there was at least a chance, or why would he have left me with no other option.

  Taking slow measured breaths in an attempt to eke out my oxygen supply for as long as possible, I stare at the stars. Io-5 is so far away now, it's just a small blip in the distance. I'm all alone out here, spinning through space, with no way of saving myself. I keep my eyes fixed on Io-5, watching as the planet gets further and further from me until, after a few minutes, I can't even see it anymore.

  I pause.

  Finally, even though I know there's no point, I start screaming for help.

  Epilogue

  Ten years ago

  "There are many types of death," he says, standing in the shadows and watching as his ministers attend to their parliamentary business. "Most people die long before their bodies stop working. They give up on their dreams, they attend only to their base needs, and their souls wither away. Any society that aims to elevate the common man to a level of enlightenment is doomed to failure. In each generation, only a select few can ever attain greatness."

  After a moment, he turns to his assistant.

  "You're not a great man," he adds, eying the man with barely-disguised contempt, "are you?"

  "No, Sir," his assistant replies. "I am your servant and I strive every day to fulfill your needs, but I must confess that I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor shall I ever be, a great man."

  "I'm glad you know your place in life."

  "Of course, Sir."

  "You debase yourself," the old man continues. "You willingly
put your own needs to one side and focus on serving Supreme Command. Sometimes, I wonder how men such as yourself could possibly live. It defies my understanding to see the way common men are able to set aside their own lives in order to serve others. Perhaps the failing is mine, and I should try to be more considerate of my place in the world... or perhaps the failing is yours, and you should seek more for yourself. Either way, the situation persists, and I cannot pretend to be anything other than a great man."

  His assistant smiles politely.

  "The universe is a harsh and cold place," the old man continues. "There's no-one out there to welcome humanity. Sometimes I feel that it's unnatural for us ever to have left the ground, even to have taken flight on our home-world. Do you ever look at a man as he travels through the void of space and wonder why he seems so ridiculous? Do birds build vehicles so they can explore the depths of the oceans? Do whales dream of walking on land? Of course not. Why, then, does mankind desire to explore even the territory that seems so inhospitable?"

  "I'm sure I do not know, Sir," his assistant replies.

  "There are those who want to hold us back," he continues. "They despise us for our ambition and they want us to wither and die as a species. Amanda Cole was such a person. She believed that the inequalities in our society were a sign of failure, whereas I recognize that inequality is proof that society rewards those who are strong. Why should a man such as myself be on the same level as a man such as..."

  He pauses, before turning to his assistant.

  "Do not take offense," he says, "but you and I are not equal."

  "Of course not, Sir," his assistant replies.

  "And any society that tried to force us to be on the same level would be doomed to failure. This is not a criticism of you. It is merely a fact. Men of such limited minds could never cope with being elevated to a position of leadership. You serve our society far more ably by remaining in your humble role and serving your masters."