Merry Christmas, ARES
Fallout: Mars [A Fan Fiction] - Chapter 2
Recap: In route to Mars, Jet Mason wakes up from cryosleep to find that something has gone wrong on the colony ship.
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Jet flicked on the Pip-Boy light. A bright, green glow filled the cargo bay. In a corner, jammed under the computer console was a large round metal object. He hadn’t seen it in the darkness earlier. It looked like a pile of metal with several arms extended out from it. It was ARES. Jet thought it looked like he was reaching out for the computer terminal. He pushed off and floated back to the console he had tried to switch on earlier.
“Talk to me, ARES,” he thought out loud. “I can’t get the terminal to turn on so we know that the circuitry must be fried. But the cryosleep pods and life support systems have power, so something is working somewhere on this ship. Maybe I can rig something up.”
There was a cable running from ARES to the back of the terminal.
“Huh, what’s this?” Jet figured the bot must’ve been trying to repair and power the terminal. Maybe he was trying to send a distress signal or trying to figure out where the ship was.
“This ought to get us somewhere,” he said as he pulled out a pile of wires and connectors from the drawer of a nearby storage locker.
A few minutes later, he had rigged up a network of power cables from one of the closest cryosleep pods to the terminal nearest ARES. Jet bypassed the circuitry that connected the fission battery to the main board. He switched it on. The terminal screen flickered and then came to life.
After it booted up, he noticed a log entry labeled “EMERGENCY: READ THIS NOW!”
“Ok, ARES, what’s going on?” he said as he clicked on the log entry.
There was a holotape in the computer that spun up and he heard ARES’ panicked robotic, yet somehow human, voice:
“I.O.B. Designation: ARES. Audio log entry dated April 27, 2076.
Okay, okay, enough official information. To whom it may concern, the ship is in peril! I, ARES, resident information officer bot, have only minutes to record this message. My circuits are damaged beyond my repair capacity, and I am no longer able to function properly. My programming requires me to shut down in circumstances like these to preserve my operating system and any information I might have stored on board. I was able to rig up a temporary power connection to leave this message, but I’m afraid when I power down I won’t be able to power the fried terminal anymore. Hopefully, someone gets this message.
Why am I rambling? There’s no time to lose!
HELP! You simply must assist in repairing me! It’s vital to my continued functions! Oh, my! 47 seconds before I shut down! Here’s what you need to know.
2 months ago ship struck by massive solar event. Radiation levels off the charts. Colonists and domesticated creatures on board irradiated at dangerous levels while still in cryosleep. Engines disabled. Communications array disabled. No contact with outside world.
Some colonists dead. Most alive. Observed unusual signs of mutation among colonists. I opened all pods and enclosures when shut down became imminent. Maybe some of them survived and could help fix this.
Ship is dead in space. Drifting away from Earth. I’ve locked myself in this cargo bay. Frightening noises echo throughout the ship.
13 seconds! Oh, the anxiety! Eek! If you get this message, do what you can to restore power to the engines. Our only hope for survival is to make it to Mars. And whatever happens, do not go into the ….”
Jet winced as he heard the recorded sounds of ARES shutting down.
“Good man, erm, robot,” he chuckled as he glanced over at ARES. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
Jet was doing the math in his head. The mission was launched in February 2026. It was so covert that not many people knew about it. ARES said that communications were out so there was no distress message sent back to Earth or on ahead to Mars. It wouldn’t really matter, though. There was nothing anyone could do for them this far out.
Jet began to tinker with ARES. He had enough experience in robotics that he could get him up and running, even if just enough to help him get the engines repaired.
ARES had recorded his message about the solar flare two months into their space flight on April 27, 2076. At that point, they were about halfway to Mars.
The current date on his Pip-boy read December 25, 2077. They had been drifting in space for over six hundred days. Almost two years.
“Well, ARES,” he sighed. “Merry Christmas.”
Hello, there. I’m Russ, also known as RKslade. I love sci-fi and fantasy. I love music and books. I’m writing some of my fan fiction and fantasy fiction here on substack. Please consider subscribing if you want to support an aspiring author!