Natalie tried not to think about how much was riding on tonight as she positioned her timescope on the flagstone patio. Although it was early, the sky was already aglow with the shimmering ribbon of the northern lights—a critical element for the device she was about to test, and the main reason she’d rented a cottage in Churchill. The small town in Manitoba was known for its world-class aurora borealis shows, and the current geomagnetic activity was particularly high. The early February evening was brutally cold, but she was prepared, from a thermos of piping hot coffee to her heated gloves with touchscreen fingertips.
Butterflies of anxiety fluttering in her stomach, she took a seat next to her invention. After she’d typed a series of commands on the keyboard set in the thick metal base, the device’s wide barrel rotated clockwise until it pointed to a spot low in the east.
Natalie let out a long breath that turned to miniature clouds in the frigid air. The short time it would take for the timescope to carry out its programmed steps would undoubtedly feel like an eternity. But if everything went right, the viewscreen encased in the base would soon display an image of Mars—not as it appeared tonight, but as it had looked a thousand years ago.
It seemed surreal that after years of agonizing over formulas, spending every spare penny of her tutoring earnings on materials, and painstakingly crafting each piece of the device, she was finally putting it to the test. If it was successful, all of her efforts would have been worth it. Not only would her childhood dream be realized, but she would finally receive the respect she deserved. When she’d shared her idea for the timescope in college, Natalie had been met with only patronizing looks and dismissive comments. One professor had even said that a gorgeous girl like her would have a better future in modeling than astrophysics.
“Wish me luck, daddy,” she said softly as the machine whirred to life. God, how she wished he were here. How many magical summer evenings had they spent in their backyard gazing at the star-strewn sky, surrounded by fireflies that mirrored the glittering show above them?
She thought back to the night she’d asked, “Daddy, how far away are the stars?” When he’d explained that their light had been traveling for years before it reached them and that what they were seeing now was actually how the stars had appeared in the past, she’d been fascinated. After thinking it over for a bit, she had another question: “So then…if some alien is looking at Earth from a planet far enough away, would they be able to see stuff from a really long time ago, like the dinosaurs?”
“You don’t miss much, do you, Nat?” he’d replied with a smile, ruffling her hair. “Yup, if Mr. or Mrs. Alien is looking our way with a powerful enough telescope, they could be watching T-Rex and his buddies roaming around right now!”
Natalie had been captivated by the idea. Not long after, NASA had landed the rovers Spirit and Opportunity on Mars. The ensuing vivid images of the rusty, rocky world, and their discovery of evidence that the red planet may once have been home to an ocean, and possibly even life, had enthralled her.
It had occurred to her that the mysteries of Mars’ past could be solved if the planet was observed from a point far enough away. Natalie decided that when she grew up, she was going to build a telescope that would gather images sent from distant points in the universe, allowing the viewer to control not only where they were looking, but when. Upon telling her father about the idea, he’d shaken his head in wonder and said, “If anyone can figure out how to build such a contraption, it’s you, sweetheart.”
A decade later, she’d been well on her way, pursuing an astrophysics degree at Caltech while interning at NASA. In spite of the fact that scarcely a quarter of the agency’s key positions were held by women, she fully intended to attain a role that would allow her to work on the invention she’d envisioned as a child.
But when her father unexpectedly fell ill and received the devastating diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, she left school to be by his side, in spite of his protests. Not wanting him to worry, she had taken over the finances, assuring him that their insurance covered his enormous medical bills. In reality, she’d had to deplete her college savings, but it didn’t matter. The idea of losing him was inconceivable. It had been just the two of them ever since her mother had run off to find herself when Natalie was a baby.
When he died less than a year later, her grief was unbearable, his absence a black hole in her life. Empty and lost, and unable to return to college, she’d thrown herself into creating the timescope on her own. Moving to the remote Canadian town and becoming a hermit had been a relief; she was free from dealing with friends who looked at her with pity and didn’t know what to say. Now, however, she wished she had someone to share this moment with.
With a sigh, she looked up at the coil of thick silver wire extending from the barrel towards the sky. It glowed as the magnetic vacuum at the coil’s tip drew in energy from the aurora borealis’ electrically charged particles. If things went to plan, this energy would—via refraction and light manipulation—enable a series of mirrored lenses to pull an image of Mars from a thousand light years away. A “lookback time” counter beside the viewscreen would show the number of light years reflected in the image on the screen.
She checked the power gauge. If her calculations were correct, it would soon reach the level needed to obtain the image she was after.
As she waited, Natalie watched the aurora dancing across the sky’s inky canvas in undulating waves of neon purple and green. She was thinking about how its beauty never failed to amaze her when the heavens lit up in an epic burst of colors, glowing ripples of vibrant pinks and yellows cascading wildly. The breathtaking display made her giddy.
Turning her attention back to the power gauge, she was stunned to see that it was maxed out. The solar activity driving the frenetic show overhead had resulted in a level of energy she hadn’t thought possible. She shifted her gaze to the viewscreen.
The planet on the screen was not the familiar red sphere of Mars—instead, she saw a world whose top half was almost entirely covered in the unmistakable blue of an ocean, while the bottom half was dominated by masses of reddish-black land. What the hell was she looking at?
It was then that Natalie noticed the lookback time displayed next to the screen.
3.4 billion years.
She gaped at the number in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be right. She’d programmed the device to produce an image with a lookback time of only a thousand years, and she wasn’t even sure it would work. Had the huge solar flare really generated that much power?
Magnifying the image on the screen, she spotted a dark prominence rising from the ocean, its distinct shape leaving no doubt that it was the peak of Olympus Mons, the tallest mountain on Mars. Holy shit. She was truly looking at the planet as it had appeared billions of years ago!
Adrenaline surging, Natalie stared in awe at the image and tried to wrap her head around the implications. Not only had her invention worked, it had succeeded far beyond her wildest expectations! Tears sprang to her eyes. All the years of not being taken seriously, the countless hours of work she’d put into making her vision a reality, and now she’d single-handedly proven that Mars had once held an ocean. Surely, NASA would welcome her once they saw the timescope in action; it could provide unlimited opportunities to learn about the universe’s development. The thought made her smile so widely that it made her teeth cold, but she didn’t care.
Suddenly, the viewscreen lit up as a dozen bright objects materialized above Mars, descending towards the planet and spreading out around its ocean.
“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, tapping at the controls to get a closer look. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment as the image enhanced.
The objects were ships. Their oval hulls shone in the sunlight, and a series of odd markings was visible on their sides.
Natalie eyed her coffee mug suspiciously. Was it harboring a hallucinogen? It was mind-blowing enough that her timescope was giving her a look at ancient Mars. But UFOs? That was crazy.
She felt like she was watching a movie as a hatch opened on each vessel’s underbelly and a long metallic tube emerged, snaking down into the water.
For a while nothing seemed to be happening. Then she noticed two things: the ocean looked like it was getting smaller, and there was now a dark edge around it. What in the world was going on?
She remembered that the iron-laden terrain of Mars was thought to have once been nearly-black, developing its signature reddish hue over time as it oxidized. Perhaps the land around the ocean looked darker than the surrounding terrain because it had been underwater until now. Which would mean that the ships were taking the water.
But how could that be possible? Even if the tubes were able to suck the water up to the ships, the sheer volume would far exceed the vessels’ size. Yet as she watched with a mounting feeling of dread, there was no denying that the ocean was shrinking and the area of surrounding dark land was growing.
When all of the water was gone, the tubes retracted into the ships and they flew off, leaving a planet whose northern hemisphere now consisted only of charcoal-colored land.
Natalie sat there in a daze as the truth sunk in: the water on Mars had not slowly evaporated, as most scientists believed. It had been stolen by an extraterrestrial race! Why would anyone do such a thing? The actions of those unknown beings had turned Mars into a lifeless wasteland, killing whatever organisms might have existed in the water and erasing all chances for any future life to develop. The ramifications made her dizzy.
As the aurora continued swirling above, she contemplated what the timescope had revealed. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that it had gone back to that exact moment in Mars’ history. Perhaps the massive power influx had caused the device to be drawn to the time when the image of its programmed target had changed so radically. There was simply no way of knowing.
Without warning, sparks flew from the keyboard. The screen went dark and smoke rose from the base. “Oh god—no!” she cried, springing from her chair and running into the cottage to grab the fire extinguisher.
By the time she returned, her precious creation was engulfed in flames. The tremendous power surge and resulting amped-up activity must have caused it to overheat.
Tears of anguish ran down her face as she looked at the smoldering ruins. All of her work was gone, and along with it, the proof that Mars had been home to a sea that was snatched by aliens. Natalie felt sick. She hadn’t even had a chance to send the timescope’s recording to her cloud backup.
She was the only one who knew the truth. And she had no way to prove any of it.
***
Ormanc gave Uta a gentle peck on the cheek so as not to wake her, then glided through the glowing water towards the food nook, glancing at the holographic family photos adorning the cavern. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe the smiling children in the pictures were now adults. How was it possible that his little girl, Vyshi, was about to become a mother herself? The imminent birth of his first grandchild should have been a source of joy, but it only exacerbated the stress he felt about this morning’s High Council meeting. The fate of his family, and the rest of Hebka’s citizens, hinged on its outcome.
It had all happened so fast. When the gaseous core of their star Aldreus expanded without warning, causing temperatures on Hebka to climb at an alarming rate, a team of top scientists and engineers devised a plan to construct a colossal heat shield around the planet. But the time needed to build it would exceed the time they had left before their world became too hot to support life. The Council was about to find out whether the team had arrived at any solutions.
After picking disinterestedly at his favorite dried plant mix, Ormanc used his powerful flippers to propel himself up to the aquatic highway access chamber. When the compartment turned from orange to indigo, he slid in, feeling the rush of the propulsion system as it carried him to the highway.
As he was swept along, he watched the steady streams of commuters, their iridescent scales gleaming in the sunlit Nephest Ocean. Below, the labyrinth of luminescent caverns that were home to Hebka’s inhabitants glowed violet in the early morning light. Ormanc normally enjoyed taking in these sights, but his anxiety cast a pall over everything.
The speed of the aquatic freeway slowed significantly as the mountains came into view. Rising from the sea floor to just above its surface, the vast range held Hebka’s capitol city, a sprawling complex of interconnected spiraling buildings that rose towards the magenta sky.
As he neared the metropolis, sensors read the chip embedded in Ormanc’s neck and he was guided to the exit chamber for the government headquarters building. Heading to the ascension platform at its base, he saw Linata approaching and paused to wait for her.
After greeting each other with a series of clicks, they swam onto the platform and were whisked up past sea level, their breathing switching from gills to skin. Their virtual vision panes started counting down how long they could safely breathe oxygen before they would need to return to the water.
“I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Linata said as they continued to ascend, her large amethyst eyes filled with worry.
“Nor could I,” Ormanc replied. “Let’s hope Tikuir’s team has come up with something.”
The platform stopped and they entered the High Council’s office—a spacious, curving room accented by tall electromagnetic windows affording panoramic views of the city and the sparkling ocean far below. Nodding greetings to the other five council members, they took their places at the recessed stations arranged in a semicircle around the podium.
Ormanc heard the hum of the ascension platform and a moment later, the diminutive Tikuir emerged. She headed straight to the podium, her trademark stoic expression betraying nothing about the news she bore.
“Esteemed council members, my team has been working nonstop to find options that will allow Hebka to remain habitable until construction of the heat shield can be completed,” she began. “First, they explored the feasibility of creating synthetic water to offset the rising ocean temperature and evaporation rate. Unfortunately, they concluded it would take far too long to build the number of water generators needed.”
Ormanc wrung his webbed hands together nervously.
“The team then focused on how to supplement the Nephest with water from an outside source,” Tikuir continued. “They’ve devised an ingenious plan to modify our fleet of research vessels so that they have the ability to collect large amounts of water; it will be condensed down to a molecular level and reconstituted here. The team has been poring over our data archives, looking for an uninhabited planet that is close enough and contains the required water volume. They were able to identify one such world, but…there are concerns,” she said.
“Such as?” Linata prompted.
“It’s located in a system consisting of eight planets. The data we have indicates that the third and fourth worlds closest to the system’s star—we’re referring to these as P3 and P4, respectively—currently have enough water to meet our needs. We’ve ruled out P3, as there are indications that simple life forms have recently emerged from its oceans,” Tikuir replied.
“But P4 doesn’t have any life?” asked Dreop, the youngest member of the council.
An uncharacteristic look of uncertainty crossed Tikuir’s face. “Our data is not conclusive on this point. There are no signs of life on P4’s land, but its ocean could harbor organisms that are too small for us to detect. However, it’s also possible that no such organisms have developed. The sea is young, and we do not know for certain whether the planet’s conditions are as conducive to life as P3’s.”
“Isn’t it logical to think that both planets would develop similarly?” asked Linata. “If we remove P4’s ocean now, we could be killing any existing and future life in order to save ourselves. Such an action would be contrary to everything Hebka stands for!” she cried.
“But what choice do we have?” asked Utom, who rarely agreed with Linata on anything. “Are you really willing to sacrifice Hebka’s entire population and its future generations for some hypothetical microscopic life?”
Debate ensued until Idann, the only member who had been on the council longer than Ormanc, motioned for quiet. “We need to take a vote. Please make your choice.”
Ormanc felt a whirl of emotions. The idea of stripping a planet of its ocean and potentially eradicating any chance it had for life, no matter how simple, was disturbing. But then he thought about Uta, their children, and his unborn grandchild.
He cast a ‘Yes’ vote on the holo-vote panel beside him and then glanced at Linata, whose holo-panel displayed a vote of ‘No’. She gave him a look of disappointment.
“4-3 in favor,” Idann said. “Tikuir, please move forward with immediate execution of the plan, and pass our thanks on to your team for their extraordinary efforts. If this works, everyone on Hebka will be forever in your debt.”
Ormanc let out a long sigh of relief, trying to push down his feelings of guilt. There was no other choice. It had to be done.
***
Natalie ran across the arid scarlet terrain, desperately trying to find a place to hide from the giant snake slithering down from the sky. But there was only barren landscape in all directions. The serpent’s amber eyes fixed on her, and it lunged. She tried to scream, but the snake started wrapping itself around her throat.
She awoke with a start to find Phobos sprawled out beside her on the bed, the calico’s tail flicking back and forth across her neck. “Jesus, Phobes,” Natalie groaned, taking deep breaths to calm her galloping heart. Goddamned nightmares. They’d plagued her ever since the night she’d witnessed aliens absconding with the water from Mars.
Shortly afterwards, she’d persuaded Adam, a senior engineer at NASA who she’d reported to during her college internship, to meet for a video call. After providing him with a detailed account of what had happened, including sketches of an ocean-bearing Mars and the fleet of strange ships, she’d seen a look of pity in his eyes.
“Listen, Natalie,” Adam had said, looking uncomfortable. “I can only imagine how difficult these past few years have been for you. It’s obvious that you need help. I know a great therapist…” She’d abruptly ended the call.
For months afterwards, she had tried contacting various members of the scientific community, but no one would listen to her. The media outlets she’d subsequently reached out to had all dismissed her as a crackpot. She had finally given up, deciding to focus her efforts on building a new timescope. The thought of having to start over was daunting, but she was determined. While it would be next to impossible to recreate the conditions that had caused the device to look so far back in time, she could at least prove that her theories were correct and show that her invention worked. It would be a good start.
***
Welok frowned as the planet came into view. It had been bad enough when the ship passed the forlorn husk of P4, knowing that his ancestors had condemned the red planet to its fate. But this was worse. He’d expected P3 to be dark and desolate, given the information their long-range probes had gathered about its deteriorating conditions, but the planet before him was a beautiful swirl of blue and white shining in the light of its star.
Iru caught his expression. “It might look unspoiled from here, but you know as well as I that its inhabitants have damaged this planet beyond repair,” she said, the disapproval in her voice coming through loud and clear via the audio chip in his helmet. “Why not take the water now, while we can still salvage it with purifiers? It’s not our fault these fools have put themselves on a road to extinction.”
Welok knew there was truth in Iru’s words, but it didn’t change the fact that their actions would accelerate the extinction. Yet if they didn’t carry out their mission, it would mean a death sentence for Hebka.
He never could have imagined that his planet would experience a catastrophe similar to the one faced by his ancestors. No one had been concerned about the massive asteroid that was on a trajectory to pass a comfortable distance away from Hebka. But as it approached, a rare interstellar shock wave had suddenly sent the space rock hurtling towards the planet. When it tore through the heat shield that had protected Hebka for eons, the entire structure collapsed, and the ensuing tsunamis wiped out a third of the population. With the world reeling and temperatures climbing, the ruling council agreed to take a desperate measure: building a modern version of the fleet that had once saved Hebka and sending it to P3, which was in a death spiral according to their data. The eerie way that history was repeating itself felt unreal to Welok.
He sighed. “I know our information shows that this race would have soon died out anyway, and the number of lives we save on Hebka will far outweigh those that will be lost here, but I still feel shame,” he said. “The ancients’ records show that they were conflicted about taking water from a planet that may not have held any life at all, and we’re about to extract it from a world already inhabited by an advanced civilization.”
Iru looked annoyed. “Beings that are knowingly killing their own planet? I’d hardly call that advanced,” she replied.
***
President Frey’s expression was grim as her chief of staff entered the underground office she’d been working from since the mysterious ships had appeared and, inconceivably, started draining Earth’s oceans.
“I just spoke with General Phets,” she said. “We’re out of options, Jack. Our weapons, like those of every other country trying to fight these bastards, are useless against their technology. Phets thinks they’re using some kind of force field.” She paused, a resigned look on her pale face. “Since we can’t stop them and we don’t know how rapidly things are going to deteriorate here, I’m giving the order to commence Operation Prevail.”
“Understood, Madam President,” Jack replied, shocked the situation had become so desperate that she was pulling the trigger on a program they’d all hoped would never be needed. “I’ll make the calls. Once we have an estimated launch time, I’ll see to it that everything’s in place for you to board the Prevail with the rest of the team.”
She shook her head. “No, Jack, I’m changing the plan. I’m needed here. Operation Prevail was supposed to be a failsafe for quick doomsday scenarios—nuclear war, bioterrorism—not some goddamned aliens showing up and grabbing the oceans, leaving us to slowly die. People are scared and it’s only going to get worse. I won’t abandon them in their hour of need. The country will still need leadership, and I’m going to do my damnedest to serve to the end.”
Jack had to take a moment before he trusted himself to speak. “Olivia, it will be an honor to continue serving with you,” he said, a catch in his voice. “But who do you want to take your place on the Prevail?”
“A young woman named Natalie Grant,” she replied. “NASA just filled me in on her. She kept trying to tell them she’d invented some sort of time-traveling telescope that allowed her to look at Mars as it appeared eons ago, and that she’d seen extraterrestrial ships pilfering its ocean. They’d dismissed her claims as nonsense, but given the current situation, they realized she was telling the truth and brought her reports to my attention. The fact that Ms. Grant created such a sophisticated instrument on her own is astounding. Her brilliant mind is exactly what the Prevail team needs.”
***
Natalie stroked Phobos as she watched Earth rapidly receding through the small viewport, still trying to process that she was really here. It had all been so surreal: the arrival of the enigmatic aliens, the world’s oceans meeting the same fate as that of Mars’ ancient sea, the realization that she was going to die—then learning she’d be one of the few to escape the planet.
From across the room, Ben gave her a lopsided grin and a thumbs-up. The young engineer had been unfailingly supportive during her crash course about the mission that would be humanity’s only chance for survival. If things went right, Prevail’s combination of nuclear fusion and solar sail technology would allow it to reach Proxima B, the closest planet with evidence of Earth-like conditions, in about 300 years. Successfully settling there would give the couples on the team a chance to raise the first generation of interplanetary children.
Natalie knew a million things could go wrong, but there was nothing to lose. Earth’s imminent demise was incomprehensible—she hadn’t even begun to get her head around it—but she tried to stay focused on the challenges that lay ahead. The ship’s cargo bay was loaded with the building blocks needed to create everything from electricity to software, and she’d have a chance to play a key role in writing the next chapter of human history.
When the stasis chamber activated, she was thinking of her father. He would have been amazed that his little girl would one day fly among the stars they’d looked at together so often. Perhaps it was fate that those nights of skygazing had led her to this moment.
As Natalie drifted off to sleep, she took comfort in the idea that she and her father were still together somewhere in the indelible light borne images traveling endlessly across the universe. History lived on that way, shining through the darkness, ensuring that no matter what happened on this mission, mankind would never fade away.
This story previously appeared in The Take Back: A Short Story Anthology.
Edited by Marie Ginga
Maria Carvalho’s published work includes stories with Roi Fainéant Press, 101 Words, Twin Pies Literary, and many anthologies such as The Pelagic Zone: Uncharted Waters and the Owl Hollow Press Anthology Series. She is also the author of the children’s book Hamster in Space! which was praised by Kirkus Indie Reviews for its "sharp understanding of kids' wacky sense of humor." Find her at Bluesky and Twitter: @ImMCarvalho,and Amazon.