Cities of Mars

Chapter 4 – Nerio

Chapter 4 – Nerio

Dale stepped out of the spaceport and stopped for a moment on the sidewalk. He took his first real breath of Martian air and looked around in childlike wonder.

Electric cars zoomed around chaotically, making the streets resemble a kicked-over anthill. There didn't seem to be any traffic rules. There were no lines painted on the concrete, or signs commanding drivers to stop, yield, or slow. Driving on Mars was, as far as he could tell, anarchy. And yet, there were no collisions. Somehow, it seemed to work.

There was a mix of commercial and residential buildings along the street, as well as the occasional park, garden, and farm. Ornamental trees and bushes were common; altogether, there was a lot more greenery than he would have expected. Office buildings towered over auto repair shops, and fruit stands squeezed in between churches. Architectural styles varied, with no clear pattern emerging as the dominant trend. If there were any zoning laws, Dale didn't see any evidence of them. Everything seemed thrown together haphazardly. Nerio was the most peaceful yet disordered place he had ever seen.

The plaza at the spaceport's entrance sported a statue of a woman. She wore a breastplate over a flowing dress, a long cape, and a Trojan-style helmet. In one hand, she wielded a spear, which she held alongside her arm and pointed towards the sky at a forty-five degree angle. In her other hand was a laurel wreath, and that arm was held at the same angle, giving both upraised arms a wide “V” semblance. She was Nerio, a Roman goddess of war and valor, consort of the god Mars, and the one for whom the city was named. On the base of the statue was inscribed a quote from Seneca, along with its English translation:

NON EST AD ASTRA MOLLIS E TERRIS VIA

“There is no easy way from the earth to the stars”

There was a transparent roof far overhead, holding the air in and protecting the colony from the harsh environment. Much of it was too flat to be called a dome, though everyone seemed to call it that anyway. The roof began at the spaceport and then stretched out over the rest of Nerio. It was supported by the occasional pillar constructed of some unidentifiable material. Some of the pillars had lights attached, and there were other lighting apparatus here and there, presumably to aid the growth of plants. The sun streamed in, hanging low in the pale orange afternoon sky. For being so far away, it was surprisingly intense. Dale closed his eyes for a moment and let it warm his face.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Eliza asked.

“Mmm.”

“The roof blocks out the dangerous rays, in case you were wondering.”

“I figured as much. It was the same way in Hesperus and Crater.”

“You're lucky. Most people never leave their home planet, much less get to visit all four terrestrial planets. You've become quite the traveler.”

Dale opened his eyes and looked at her. “I used to be afraid to fly, too. Ironic, huh?”

“Life has a way of sending us on detours. We never know what roads we might explore.” She jerked her head towards a parking lot. “Come on. My car's this way.”

He followed her to her car. It was a Deus Altair, a bright blue two-seat sports coupe. He had read about them—the latest model from Italarion Motors, it sported a powerful electric engine and a sophisticated battery. It was small, but streamlined, and it looked fast. He idly wondered what effect the lower gravity had on its handling.

Eliza opened the door and slid behind the wheel.

Dale climbed into the passenger seat just in time. A second after he closed the door, the car tore out of the lot. He instinctively grabbed the armrests. “Whoa.”

“Bellona Firearms is about ten minutes' drive from here,” Eliza said. She swerved hard to avoid an oncoming car. “So you'll get to see a little of Nerio along the way.”

“Uh, huh,” Dale said, followed by a gulp. He didn't have to wonder about the Deus Altair's capabilities anymore. Eliza ran her car like a stunt driver. He wasn't sure he could survive two minutes of it, let alone ten.

The car hit a bump and became briefly airborne.

Dale gasped.

The tires returned to the concrete with a squeal. Eliza turned into the skid like a pro. A moment later, traction returned, and she stomped on the accelerator.

“This area on the left,” she said calmly, as if flying one's car was an everyday occurrence for her, “is Phoenix Park. It's named after the old robot lander. The fountain there isn't the biggest on Mars, but it's one of the oldest and most popular. There are usually children splashing around in it.”

Dale looked. The fountain was a shallow pool with a concrete statue in the center. The statue was of a man with a shield and spear—an image of the Roman god of war, he guessed, though he was too far away to read any inscriptions. At the man's feet, surrounding him like a protective wall, were a number of cherubs. They raised horns to their lips, and water sprayed from the horns. There were no children playing in the fountain at the moment—only a young couple sitting on the lip of the pool and kissing.

“Martians love water,” Eliza said. “Probably because it never rains. It snows near the poles, but the air is too cold for rain. So we make our own rain of a sort. We have fountains and canals and water rides. And some of the water evaporates and condenses on the dome. It eventually rolls back down. One might consider that a form of rain.”

Dale disagreed—if it doesn't hit you in the face, it's not rain—but he didn't say anything. A moment later, the park was behind them.

“This,” Eliza said, pointing to her right, “is the Schiaparelli Memorial Garden. It's named for Giovanni Schiaparelli, the Italian astronomer who studied Mars. It's beautiful in the spring. That's when most of the flowers are in bloom. Some picking is allowed. Not too much, of course.”

“Who maintains the garden?”

“The Southwark Foundation. It also operates a few other attractions. Technically, it owns the whole city, though the terms of the leases are generous. For practical purposes, the lessees 'own' their properties to a greater degree than actual property owners in the other cities.”

“I remember reading about Uriah Southwark in school. He was kind of a nut, wasn't he?”

“To Earthers, perhaps. To us, he's our founding father. He almost single-handedly created Nerio.”

Dale considered that for a moment. “I'm guessing the version of the story I learned in history class is very different from the Martian version.”

“Ya. Earther schools...” She snorted. “Southwark was a visionary. There were already other settlements on Mars at the time. A number of Earth's nations had arrived and set up colonies. Southwark wanted to build a colony that was open to all nations but subject to none. And he did. There was much protest, but he had the money and the connections to realize his idea. He put everything he had into building Nerio's infrastructure and then moved here himself permanently. He was basically our governor for the first sixteen years, and that was long enough for the new residents to adapt to the strange new political environment. The first settlers began as Earthers, with Earther ways of thinking, but by the time Southwark died, they were zealous Nerian patriots. Today, the Foundation provides what little policing that goes on. We call the police 'Foundies.' There's a couple of them over there.” She pointed to a field of green grass.

Dale looked. A pair of men were tossing a ball around with a gaggle of children. The men were casually dressed, but muscular, and they wore pistols and baseball caps sporting the Foundation's logo. They looked like they could handle themselves.

A transparent wall approached. There was a non-transparent portion, an arch made of gray Martian concrete, and there was a semi-circular opening in it through which the road passed.

Dale stared at the gray concrete and grinned. “You know, when I was a kid, I thought Mars was red all the way through. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I learned the dirt was gray just under the surface.”

“I suppose that's normal,” Eliza said. “Again, it's human nature. You see what's on the surface and expect it to accurately represent what lies beneath. It's only as adults that we learn otherwise, if we learn at all.”

“So what is this place? Is it the border? Are we leaving the colony?”

“No. This is an airlock, but we're not leaving the colony. This door is almost always open. It shuts automatically in case of volcanic activity or some other disaster, but that's it. Nerio was built a piece at a time, so there are a number of airlocks like this one connecting one dome to another. Whenever it gets a little crowded, the Foundation digs out a new crater, waterproofs it with Chandrapoxy, fills it back in, builds walls and roof, and then steps back and lets businesses and individuals settle the new frontier.” She slowed the car and approached the airlock at something resembling a reasonable speed. They drove through the arch, and the sun winked out, leaving them in sudden darkness.

Dale's eyes took a moment to adjust. The car had entered a short connecting tunnel. It was concrete and windowless, but it was dimly lit by yellow lights mounted on the walls. A few seconds later, the car emerged from the tunnel, the sun returned, and they entered a new area of the city.

Eliza immediately stepped on the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward like a wild beast.

Dale swore under his breath.

“This is Huygens Square,” Eliza said. She gestured to the left. “It's a nice place to mingle and relax.”

The square was a large, brick-paved area, with a fountain at the center and shops and restaurants around the perimeter. It was packed with people from a variety of ethnic groups. At the far end of the square, a pair of women with guitars strummed and sang.

Eliza passed a slower car, missing it by a hair.

Dale braced himself and held his breath. It was hard to believe this professional businesswoman was such a daredevil behind the wheel.

“And here we are.” She nodded to her right. “Bellona Firearms.”

Eliza turned hard, and the car bounced into the parking lot. She yanked the wheel again, and the coupe skidded into a parking space with a squeal from the tires.

Dale practically fell out of the car in his haste to get out. For a long moment, he stood in place on shaky legs. The Martian concrete was wonderfully un-moving beneath his feet.

Eliza gave him a cheerful smile. “Ready?”

He gulped and nodded. “If I don't throw up in the next minute, then I think I'll be okay.”

She laughed. “First time riding with a race car driver?”

“Seriously? You're actually a race car driver? They have races here?”

“Ya. The Martian 500. I placed third last year.”

“Wow. Congratulations, I guess.”

“Thank you.”

Dale blinked a few times. “That stupid menu button is still hanging around at the bottom of my vision.”

“You have to visualize it disappearing.”

He tried. Nothing happened. “I still can't do it.”

“You'll get it. It's like learning to whistle. It's hard to explain. Once you learn, though, it will become second nature.”

Dale gave up and decided to ignore the button. He turned his attention to the building. Bellona Firearms was just a one-story place, but it covered a lot of area. Its walls were constructed of white-painted concrete blocks, similar to old-fashioned cinder blocks, he supposed, and its door was steel. The owner apparently took security pretty seriously. The business's sign sported an image of the Roman war goddess Bellona. She wore a robe and a helmet, and she was driving a four-horse chariot. One of her hands held the reins, and the other held aloft a machine gun. Her mouth was open in a defiant yell.

“Remember,” Eliza said, “let me do the talking. I've got lots of experience doing this sort of thing. The owner is a Nerian patriot, but from what I know of him, he can be a bit cantankerous. Just follow my lead. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Then let's buy some guns.”