Fifiteen minutes
By the late twenty-second century, humanity had finally planted its flag on Mars — but Mars had never promised to keep them alive.
Commander Leon Cruise stood at the edge of the research perimeter, staring across a horizon that never stayed still. Red dust shifted like a restless ocean beneath a fading sun, the landscape vast and indifferent to the fragile lives attempting to tame it.
In the distance, something changed.
A dark wall began to rise against the skyline, swelling unnaturally fast.
They had trained for Martian storms. They had not trained for one like this.
Alarms erupted inside the station.
Power levels flickered. Radiation shielding destabilized. Oxygen reserves dipped below projected thresholds as the approaching storm swallowed more of the horizon.
Emily, the station’s AI, cut through the growing chaos.
“Base will be impacted by the storm in 15 minutes and 25 seconds.”
The countdown began.
“Split the work,” Leon ordered, his voice calm despite the rising wind. “Secure what you can and prepare for evacuation.”
“I’ll secure the specimens,” Jason said.
Leon frowned. “That’s Sanjay’s assignment. You handle the ship — the batteries need replacing.”
Jason didn’t move. His gaze lingered toward the laboratory wing for a moment longer than it should have.
“I’ll secure the specimens,” he repeated.
There was no time to argue.
Leon exhaled sharply and turned toward the spacecraft bay, taking on the battery replacement himself.
Minutes bled away as the wind began hammering the structure. Metal groaned. Fine dust forced its way through microscopic seals.
Emily’s voice returned, colder now.
“Base is no longer habitable. Survival probability: zero.”
“Move!” Leon commanded.
The crew sealed their suits and rushed toward the spacecraft as the storm struck in full force.
Visibility collapsed into swirling red chaos. Wind howled like something alive.
Halfway to the ship, a loose rover chassis — ripped from an abandoned research unit — came hurtling through the storm.
Leon turned at the sound.
The impact knocked him off his feet, slamming him into the Martian ground. He didn’t rise.
Before the crew could reach him, something shifted in the storm beyond him — a massive distortion in the dust, moving against the wind rather than with it.
Then Leon’s body was dragged into the red haze.
“Commander!” someone shouted through static.
And then he was gone.
The team froze, staring into the storm where he had vanished. Every second they waited brought them closer to death.
“Where’s Jason?” Luna’s voice broke through the comm.
They scanned the chaos again.
Only Leon had been visible.
Jessi stepped forward.
“I know they’re alive,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “If we stay, we all die. Go back to Earth. Send help. I’ll find them.”
Silence hung heavier than the storm.
Reluctantly, they agreed.
They transferred essential supplies to her and unlocked the solar-powered rescue rover built to endure extreme Martian terrain. One by one, they wished her luck.
As the spacecraft launched and disappeared into the dust-filled sky, Jessi didn’t look back.
She began her rescue mission alone.
She activated the biometric tracker embedded in her suit, forcing her breathing to steady.
A signal appeared.
Leon.
Weak. Flickering. Glitching.
Alive.
Relief surged through her — fragile, temporary — before urgency crushed it. She accelerated across the unforgiving terrain, the rover jolting violently over fractured rock and loose dust.
“Commander Leon Cruise is in critical condition. Immediate medical assistance required,” Emily announced through her comm.
Jessi’s jaw tightened. Even at maximum speed, it would take nearly an hour to reach him.
An hour he might not have.
She opened a communication channel.
“Leon, can you hear me? Please… stay with me.”
Static answered.
She tried again, her voice cracking this time. “Leon, respond.”
Nothing but the distant roar of the storm bleeding into the speakers.
Her display refreshed auLeonatically. His heart rate fluctuated erratically. Oxygen levels were dropping.
The signal pulsed once — then distorted sharply.
For a brief second, another reading flashed beside his. It wasn’t labeled. It wasn’t identified. It simply appeared… and then vanished.
Jessi froze.
“Emily, did you register that anomaly?”
“No confirmed secondary biometric signal detected,” the AI replied.
Her pulse quickened. She knew what she had seen.
The tracker flickered again, weaker this time.
Jessi tightened her grip on the controls; eyes fixed on the unstable signal ahead.
“Hold on,” she whispered into the emptiness. “I’m coming.”
Outside, the storm raged on — and somewhere within it, something was waiting. TO BE CONTINUED…..
