The Vial

Phobos and Deimos could be seen in the night sky. Small glints of ships soaring out of orbit, glimmering like specks of glitter in the massive cosmos filled sky.

The gentle Martian winds rocked him backward and forward, standing atop the tallest smokestack. The air was crisp, with the bite of dust as it got within every pore on his exposed face. Even at such heights, the stinging, almost choking orange dust was inescapable. This would be his last moment of rest before starting. Had he been closer to the ground; this simple act of breathing the air could almost been lethal.

The plan was simple; the ground around the plant was too toxic for the craft, so Aj gave Nameless a few hundred feet of rope. He then dropped the bounty hunter off on the tallest smokestack of the plant and began circling high in the sky, waiting for the signal to come to pick Nameless back up.

With a sigh, the moment was gone, and the modified gas mask was back on his face. The skinny figure dressed in a well-worn leather top and bottom with a hood concealing his face. He checked the seal on his mask. They had spent the whole night getting the mask and equipment ready for this.

The seal was good, worn leather and blistered rubber hugging the barely existent scruff on his face. Nameless turned and latched his belt to the rope system that stretched downwards from the perch atop the smokestack. Final checks were made. Rope, gloves, mask seal, gun, ammo, knife, boots, Geiger counter, satchel, ancient computer. For the fifth time, the nervous young man checked his mask’s seal, wondering why on Mars he ever accepted this job.

All was in order. He sucked a large mouthful of oxygen through the old filters, leaned over the smokestack’s railing, and jumped.

He fell like a comet through the barely visible sky for a few seconds of raw fear. The smokestack’s platform disappeared. Nameless plummeted straight down, the rope whining and whirring. As he descended into the fog, the world around him disappeared, replaced by the hazy dew of the factory. One mistake, and there would be nothing more than a broken, bloody mess at the foot of the most toxic site on the Orange Giant.

As the ground came closer, the air went from a dusty orange hue to a grey and horrible smelling fog. He had planned for this, there was just enough rope for two more seconds of descent, and he would arrive at the bottom. Another leap, and Nameless was completely enveloped within the miasma. The air was so thick, the gloves holding the rope beneath the mask could not be seen.

Almost there, Nameless thought; the heat from the carabiner seeping into his thick gloves.

His knees bent like springs; his chest, and abs were clenched in preparation for the final stretch. Slowing down midair, his stomach dropping as the air was choked with grey, his boots barely visible. By his calculations, he was halfway there. The plan replaying in his head—how he would break at the bottom, let the rope go, and gently slide to the ground.

These final few yards were a journey in of itself, with seconds passing like minutes. Halfway through the jump, the fog lifted, only to be replaced with the rainbow-colored puddles of the ground.

With a stomach-churning, spalt, the Nameless collapsed like a rag doll into the chemical puddles that lined the base of the smokestack. Searing pain roared through his body, and a burning sensation immediately began blistering where the clothes were thinnest. Near the base of the smokestacks, several barrels and storage containers of chemicals had spilt. Their erosive contents had eaten through the metal over the years, covering the ground in acidic puddles.

Through the mental fog of pain and confusion, Nameless began pushing himself skyward. Liquid chemicals ran off his clothes as he checked each joint patch for holes. After reviewing them all, he patted himself down, searching for any other possible tears in his clothes; there were none, thankfully. The camp didn't have much in hazmat suits, so the thickest clothes possible were the next best option.

Despite the lack of holes and the thickness of the clothes he wore, Nameless could feel the chemical burns forming where the leather material had not been enough to stop the chemicals from seeping in.

Cursing himself, he knew he had to complete the job soon or else risk his burns getting infected. There was no help to be found here on the frontier, a half days flight from the camp. He would need to move fast.

A quick scan of his surroundings bore a grizzly sight. An empty, rusty, and orange-hued chemical plant that was abandoned long ago. There were dozens of manufacturing sites like this all over Mars to help support the mines, but few remained in operation these days.

The ground he had crashed into was just beneath the tallest of four smokestacks. Directly facing the open jaw of the plant loading bay. A broken glass dome that had at one point kept the dust out and breathable air within barely stood above the plant. Shards of orange sunlight danced from the parts of the glass dome that were still intact, giving the giant metal building an even eerier look.

Nameless pulled out his Geiger counter and checked the air; he could never be too sure in places like this. The radiation was expected, at least here outside the plant. He looked down at the puddles of chemicals he had landed in. To his right, even more barrels had spilled their contents at the base of the tower, their corrosive content burning right through the barrel after all these long years. He was standing in a muddy corrosive swamp.

After stowing the Geiger counter, he pulled out his scanner with one hand and the pistol in the other. From left to right, high and low, he checked every doorway, broken window, and cranny with the scanner. No signs of life could be detected within the green screen of the square rusty metal scanner he held to his eyes.

Good, no more mistakes from here on, and this whole journey will be worth it.

Nameless stowed his scanner and cocked his pistol, peering within the chamber and ensuring a bullet was inside and ready to fire. It was a cheap, oddly shaped black-market pistol, highly illegal and doomed to misfire if not religiously maintained. It was crude, ugly, and high maintenance, much like his profession. He couldn't ask for a more fitting weapon.

He turned the gun's flashlight on and began carefully trudging into the jaws of the abandoned chemical plant. Aside from the occasional hole in the plant’s glass ceiling, which allowed orange tinted sunlight inside, the gun mounted flashlight was the only source of illumination within the whole area. His footsteps echoed through the site, bouncing off the walls and surfaces.

The ground was littered with broken glass, twisted metal, and old crumpled paper that gently wafted across the floor. The slow drip of condensation and moisture echoed through the dismal husk of the building. The faint sound of wind wafting through the biodome could be heard.

Nameless crossed the loading bay to the doors leading down a long hallway into the plant's guts. The long metal hallway was pitch black, going so far in a gradual descent that the gun's light could barely make out even one hundred meters into the hallway.

He checked his map, looking at the plant's floorplan: Down this hall, take an elevator to the labs, retrieve the item, make it back to the smokestack for extraction. Anyone could do this job, but none had the courage he did.

Swift movement caught his, and he lifted his gun to illuminate the hallway.

Nothing. No one else is here, no one else is here, no one else is here. Too easy, just don't die from the chemicals.

A scratching noise faintly entered Nameless 's hooded ears. Something was in this plant. An immense sense of unease crept through this body as his hair on the back of his neck stood up. The young bounty hunter looked down at his pistol and felt the three extra magazines of ammunition in his satchel. Anything more than a small mutant or rodent would be a massive problem in this dark and cramped place. Aj had suggested bringing a long rifle, but that would have been no good in tight, cramped spaces.

Nameless sucked in some air and exhaled as hard as he could. The job had to be done, no matter what. So, he nervously trudged down the hallway, his studded leather boots clanking and scraping the metallic floor. Whatever was here, Nameless could not afford an extended fight before reaching the labs.

On and on, the hallway descended. As he walked, it didn't appear that steep. Yet, scanning behind him, the door and loading bay was no longer visible, just a metallic floor. This was the most direct route to the labs beneath the plant; any alternate way was caved in or far too toxic. The darkness seemed to hug his body, and the silence was so deep, his mind began hearing things—soft scratches, a hinge swaying open softly in the distance. These sounds were quieter than the faintest whisper, yet, more startling than the loudest shout.

Occasionally, a rusted metal door on the right or the left would interrupt the long dark walls of the hallway, each time the figure passed one, he would grip his pistol tighter. Anticipating whatever was here with him to leap out. But it never did.

His pace was slow and steady as the weapon was the only illumination within the long hallway. Every now and again, a faint clicking, or scratching sound would barely sound out from the ceiling. Probably just the eroding pipes, Nameless told himself. Yet, a sense of being watched could not escape him. The air was poisonous and thick, particles dancing in the beam of the flashlight like tiny figures.

He certainly did not feel welcome. Every part of him was screaming to turn back. It would be so easy. Just say it wasn't here. Turn around, turn back, turn back. The thought screeched in his head and clawed at his resolve. Nameless shook his head and continued forward.

The dark journey ground onward until the hallway ended in a sealed metal vault door with a monitor sticking out of the right wall. Nameless looked around, checking his surroundings. Stories from sitting around campfires as a child came to mind, listening to the religious people describe Hell. If Hell was a real place, it certainly had to look like this.

Nameless did one last look around, then wiped the dust off the monitor. Unslinging his satchel, he pulled the ancient computer out and booted it up. Static buzzed from the metal box, and green letters began dancing across the screen. He smacked the side of the computer, willing the laptop to turn on.

He impatiently began tapping his booted foot rapidly, scanning down the long dark hallway and at the rusty eroding pipes above, the grated metal floor below him, the ominous rusted doors unevenly spaced out in the right and left walls. An impending sense of doom was roiling inside, the feeling one gets in the dark, knowing someone, or something else is in there, too. Finally, the computer turned on. He put the password in and searched for the vault door input code.

0-3-1-6-9-8-0-5-6

He pressed down on the cracked plastic that lined the keyboard on the wall monitor and waited for the vault door to open. An odd buzzing sound erupted from the monitor, echoing down the long hallway. Panic set in as Nameless saw binary code flashing on the monitor screen.

01100111011011110010000001100010011000010110001101101011

Panic arose in his skinny body as a deep sense of dread entered his mind. Nameless couldn’t read binary, and his old computer would take far too long to translate that. Cautiously, he tried inputting the password again and again. Each failed attempt brought on the same line of binary code.

Once again, he looked at the map, noting that two doors up the right wall were a series of doors and passages leading to the generators. The generators were right above the labs. Which means there would be a way to make a hole in the floor and climb down with a bit of luck. Just a quick detour and he'd be out of here in no time. He began retracing his steps, going back down the long, dark hallway.

So far, nothing had gone according to plan. There was no power in this place, no breathable air, the ground was covered in chemical puddles, and the password didn't work. Now Nameless realized why every other bounty hunter on the Orange Giant didn’t sign up for this. Not just anyone could do this job, it would take an entire team of professionals and high-tech support. Just him by himself with his hand me down equipment was a suicide run.

Nameless grunted in frustration. No one knew what caused the explosion, who knew if it could happen again. Pain from the wounds began to rise in severity; speed and efficiency was critical for survival now. Despite instinct screaming no, Nameless started to jog, allowing the doors and increasing uphill slope of the hallway to guide his progress. Time was the enemy.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Two doors down the right, he arrived at the map’s destination: a rusty doorway housing a decrepit gate with a metal wheel in the center. Nameless stowed his gun and tried to leverage the wheel loose. There was no light now in the hallway, just the sound of heavy masked breathing and the soul-wrenching creak of the aged door wheel staring to budge.

The ear-piercing, grinding sound of rusted metal on wearing steel screamed out in the plant as the door began to budge. Nameless grunted and heaved all his weight on the circular handle. Sweat started dripping down his masked face, getting in his eyes and mouth. The wheel slowly began to turn.

As the door started to budge, a new scratching sound began to echo through the dark hallway. Scratch, stomp, scratch, stomp. Almost like clawed, leather feet slowly beginning to stalk its way toward him. The sound started to speed up as whatever was making it increased its speed toward him.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Nameless yelled as something began roaring and hauling its massive body down the long metal path. Even in the pitch-black hallway, he couldn’t mistake that whatever was coming his way was massive and pissed.

The door screeched and swung open inwards. Nameless jumped through the now open doorway as something swiped where he had previously been standing.

Nameless landed on his back with a soul-twisting crunch as he smashed his scanner and Geiger counter in the satchel. He drew his pistol, and in haste didn't even turn on the flashlight. Instead allowing the muzzle flash to illuminate where he was blindly shooting, dumping the entire magazine into the hallway.

The gunshots made a cacophony of head-splitting noise as the bullets ricocheted off the metal walls and floors. The yellow beams of light that were the bullets bouncing up and down the hallway, looked like dancing stars illuminated the halls, but there was no creature to be found.

Nameless climbed to his feet and slammed the door shut by leaning against it with his back. He turned the flashlight back on and loaded a fresh new magazine, the weapon’s cocking echoing through the hallway and empty rooms. He shivered as his body became incredibly cold, the adrenaline subsiding and vomit trying its hardest to leave his mouth.

Don't hurl in your mask, man, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, he thought, remembering previous experiences. What was that? Why was it here? Nothing could survive here. So, this was why the man in the white suite couldn't find anyone else for this fucking job. Anger rose in his body, and he angrily clenched his fist. When this was over, he and Mr. Peirceson were going to have some words.

Nameless turned to a new sight: another hallway. But this time, doors and glass windows spanning the entire wall on both sides. The manufacturing deck. Beyond the center of the deck, another hallway led to the generator room. Hopefully, away down to the labs.

Nameless made his way down the causeway, carefully scanning with his flashlight from left to right, looking for any more unpleasant surprises from the plant's denizens. This place was supposed to be abandoned; what could even make it down here, let alone live?

No use worrying, he had to keep moving.

He slowed his pace down, curious as to what he was seeing. Each room on the left and right was full of dusty, abandoned metal and plastic equipment. No doubt this was where they’d made plastics and synthetic hardware. Back when the future was bright…

In one of these rooms were a desk, computer, and a cot. Bookshelves lined the walls, and some weird kind of fur-covered the floor. Nameless had never seen such a thing before. What was this room doing in the bowels of a chemical plant? The glass door was ajar, and he made his way into this odd room.

Looking down, Nameless could see his boots made imprints in the odd floor covering. Looking upwards at the desk centered in the room, he went over to it. On the desk was the computer, a bizarre plastic mug with words on it that Nameless couldn't read, and a glass framed picture.

In the picture were a man, a woman, and two small children. They all looked related, like a family, but they were immaculate, and the background sky was almost blue. The ground in the picture was green as well, and weird brown things came out of the land, with green knife-shaped playing cards sticking out of the brown limbs.

Nameless picked up the framed picture and wiped the dust off of it.

“Hello, Doctor Howard,” a mysterious voice said.

Nameless jumped, dropping the glass picture and shattering it.

He drew his pistol and scanned the room, frantically looking for the voice; he was the only one there. A light caught his eye, and he saw it came from a female AI within the desk's computer.

Cautiously, Nameless leaned in, inspecting the computer.

“Please enter your passcode, Doctor,” the grey-skinned, bald female AI said from the computer screen.

Nameless pondered, searching the room for clues. There were no notes, no pieces of paper or other electronics within the room. He began to lose interest when a crunch caught his ear. He gazed down at the glass picture frame he was stepping on. It was clear that it was a paper image, with a glass protective case and stand of some kind.

Nameless leaned down with a grunt and picked up the photo. He turned it over and inspected the back, noticing a series of numbers. Looking back at the computer, he touched the screen, his finger selecting each number on the photo one by one.

“Passcode received. Welcome back, Doctor Howard. You have no new communications at this time.”

The AI's face disappeared, revealing a long set of logs that perhaps this mysterious doctor had written. Nameless looked around him. He had to keep moving, had to find a way into the labs. He had never encountered such a fancy room before, or an AI for that matter. Maybe whatever was on the computer would explain what happened to this place. He pressed his finger on the first log on the long list.

The man from the family appeared on screen, a personal video log paused. Nameless pressed play.

“My name is Doctor James Howard, and it's my first week on Mars, if you can believe it,” The doctor chuckled. His grey hair was thinning, his sharp features keen yet kind looking. His white lab coat was pristine, with no stains, rips, or patches of any kind. The fact that people lived like that blew Nameless 's mind. Behind the doctor on the screen, the chemical plant seemed to be in perfect conditions, with robots and machinery hurriedly moving to and fro in the background of the assembly area.

“I am making this log so that one day my children may see what their papa did in his dungeon,” the doctor said rather curtly. “Serena and the children are assimilating rather nicely. Company housing is cramped. But if this R&D department works out, I'm sure we'll be sipping Italian wine in a New Washington flat someday. I don't really know what else there is to say. I'm rather giddy being able to work here, perhaps even make a difference on mankind's second colony.”

The log ended with the doctor reaching toward the screen to cut the video off.

Wine? Nameless thought, wasn't that the drink Mama Jockus poured for essential guests? Regular people could drink that kind of rare stuff back then? Then again, he was a doctor.

Nameless checked the date from the log, almost three hundred years ago. He chuckled, making a difference. He didn't know much about Martian history, but according to his experience, people who tried to make a difference on Mars died. Quickly. He clicked on the next log.

“Well, it isn't quite as clear as to why I am here now. It would seem my ‘colleagues’ are nothing more than highly paid laborers doomed to print plastic the rest of their careers,” The doctor paused, massaging the bridge of his crooked nose. “To think I earned a doctorate for this. We have yet to research or develop anything. It's been nothing but printing, data scrubbing, and busy work. A machine could likely do my job----” End of the video. Nameless tried clicking on it to continue, but the rest of the footage was orange versus the green footage he had been watching.

Frustrated, Nameless scrolled through the rest of the video logs and noticed something odd. Large chunks of the ordinarily green-lettered records were orange, and when he attempted to press on them, the video logs wouldn't play. Why wouldn't these videos play? There was no power in this plant. How could he even see this?

“Computer?” Nameless asked nervously.

“Yes, Doctor Howard,”

“Why are these videos orange?”

“These logs are locked by company policy. The only viewable log entries are those overridden by the kill-safe protocol enacted by yourself, Doctor Howard. To request permission to see these videos, please contact your supervisor.”

Nameless sighed and clicked on the last video in the stack, the only one still green.

The doctor's face appeared, but it was all very different now. His face was gaunt, and the background was dark and foreboding.

“I don't have much time; they are coming. We stumbled across something here we never should have. I can't explain in full detail, but the compound the government brought in, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. I-I was exposed,” the doctor's voice cracked as he rested his forehead against his palms and softly began sobbing.

A vague sense of pity rose in Nameless as the doctor continued.

“I can't even begin to fully describe how I feel. I can process information faster than I ever have before. Heavy objects weigh nothing more than feathers to me; I can remember every single thing I have ever said or tasted or done in my entire life. I can't sleep anymore; when I do, there are lucid dreams, almost like memories from some sort of past life, but I was never there.”

A government chemical compound? So, this is why “utmost discretion” was needed. What had Mama Jockus gotten them into this time?

The doctor gazed at the computer screen with tear-filled eyes. “If anyone sees this, please tell my family I love them, and I am so sorry,” the video was cut short as fire erupted in the background, engulfing everything, and ending the video.

“How did the doctor record this?” Nameless asked the AI in a rough, muffled voice.

“Doctor Howard established kill safe protocols to upload his laboratory video logs to his personal computer in the event of early existential termination,” the AI replied.

So, this was why Nameless was here; he was sent to get this compound.

“Computer, do you know the source of the explosion in the Doctor's last log?”

“Chemical Element Processing and Manufacturing Plant 5-5-6-9 was quarantined by order of the Martian Federal Government on July 21st, 2041 A.D. To prevent chemical exposure to the atmosphere, the Martian Air Force was ordered to bomb Chemical Plant 5-5-6-9.”

Nameless put his hands behind his head and gazed at the rusty ceiling. Outstanding. Nameless got up and left the office. Purpose drove him now; he had to get out of this plant as soon as possible. Why would the government bomb this place? In the videos he saw, everything was fine—until the doctor was exposed. Nameless halted, his chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly. Dread filled him.

What is this compound?

It wasn't atypical for a city dweller to flaunt a bunch of zeros to a mercenary camp for bounty work, but this much money and this much trouble for one single item? Nameless pulled out his map, trying to see how close he was. According to the floorplan, he just needed to get to the other side of the manufacturing deck.

He cautiously followed his map, jogging down the long hallways and rooms, getting closer and closer to the space above the laboratories. Finally, he arrived at his destination.

A massive hole sat in the middle of the plant. It was clear where the bomb had smashed through the bio-dome into the factory floor and detonated just above the laboratories. What was odd, though, was that the laboratories' ceiling was thick concrete, so thick that the actual bomb didn't penetrate it at all. It was the fire from the chemicals that had gotten in and destroyed everything. But if the fire had destroyed everything, why was Nameless even there? He wondered how this compound could survive all this destruction.

Nameless looked for a way down from where he stood, a doorway that had at one point led to more rooms but now lead to open-air, with a fifty-foot drop down to the laboratories. The bomb had completely disintegrated the four levels above the labs; if the laboratory’s ceiling hadn't been so thick, the bomb would have penetrated and eviscerated the labs.

Nameless leaned out the doorway into the empty air, using his flashlight and the exposed sky as light to search for a way down. He noticed a ventilation grate sticking out of the far-right corner of the exposed laboratory’s concrete ceiling. He pulled out the remaining rope from the satchel and anchored it to a metal railing lining the doorway overlooking the bomb crater. With a careful toss, the rope landed on the laboratory ceiling.

He fitted the rope to the carabiner on his belt and began repelling downwards. As Nameless made the descent, a low growling sound echoed through the crater. He looked upwards to see pale green eyes staring at him from where the rope was anchored. Whatever it was, its body blended in with the dark; only the eyes were visible. Nameless ’s stomach leaped into his throat. He considered shooting it, but it would have enough intelligence to just slice the rope if it was a mutant. If it was a dumb animal, it would most likely jump down onto him.

Nameless kept an eye on the soft green eyes and continued his descent into the crater. The entire time he worked, he was watched from above. The creature did not attempt to pursue, merely watching him land on the concrete laboratory ceiling. Nameless tugged at the rope, dislodging the anchor, letting the line fall around his feet, coiling up like a long snake. The eyes disappeared as the creature retreated into the guts of the plant.

Cautiously, the bounty hunter walked over to the metal grate and lifted it upwards, revealing the dark narrow ventilation shaft. It was barely wide enough for a human to fit through; thankfully, Nameless was skinny. He took his satchel off and tossed it into the shaft.

A great crash sounded as the satchel smashed through the other grate guarding the end of the shaft. Nameless gathered his nerves, kept the pistol in his right hand, and began the descent into the ventilation system.

While narrow and highly claustrophobic, the shaft was straight down. The lonely explorer was thankful for this as he used his limbs to press against both sides of the post, shimmying his way downward. Despite the steady progress, his burns began to wail in protest as the pain mounted. He simply gritted his teeth and continued downward.

After a few minutes, the Nameless ’s feet met air, indicating he was hanging directly inside the laboratory. He pulled his arms and legs in and fell like a stake through the remaining shaft, directly unto the laboratory floor.

With a thud, Nameless crumpled onto the laboratory floor, shrouded in complete darkness. He pulled a flare out from the satchel and ignited it. The laboratory was filled with the eerie red light of the blaze, revealing a horribly burnt room. How anything could be left after the fire was beyond him, but he pressed on.

Following the map's place plan, he counted the echoing steps and walked through the mangled equipment of the laboratory. Nothing was recognizable, just charred bits of metal and melted synthetic material here and there.

Having reached the far end of the laboratory, he was met with a grizzly sight. A charred skeleton, probably Doctor Howard, laying in front of what may have once been a desk. Nameless scanned the walls, looking at the built-in shelving which had kept all the samples. As he scanned, something caught his eye.

A single glass vial of glowing blue chemicals remained intact. He cautiously reached onto the shelf and pulled the vial out, examining it. There was no written label, no serial numbers, just a glass vial containing the glowing blue liquid. What was strange is that, aside from the flair, there was no other light in the room. It was as if the liquid glowed on its own.

Having put the vial carefully in the containment box that Mama Jockus had given him, the vial was secure. He then put the container in his satchel.

Nameless kept his pistol up and left the laboratory, silently giving his condolences to the good doctor. Making his way up the staircase leading to the door of the laboratory, he pushed the charred door open. This time it was another long metal hallway with no doors or windows in the walls, ending in an elevator that had long since stopped working.

Nameless made his way to the lift, popped open the elevator's escape hatch, and began climbing the metal lines leading to the surface.