- for Vivienne -
The colony had been designed for fifty souls. Fifty voices to echo in the domes, fifty hands to tend the hydroponics, fifty hearts to beat against the silence of the red planet. But after the accident, only two remained.
Sergio Alvarez—the engineer, the reluctant widower, the last adult alive—and his daughter, Malika, who had been barely one year old when the storm tore through the main habitat and claimed her mother and the rest of the crew.
Malika wasn't the first child born on Mars, nor would she be the last.
For fifteen years, Sergio raised her inside the containment domes, among the humming recyclers and the whisper of oxygen scrubbers. He taught her to walk on polymer floors, to speak in the language of machines, to laugh in the face of silence. Mars was not a place for children, but Malika grew like a vine in a crack of stone, stubborn and bright.
The planet outside was a desert of iron dust and frozen carbon dioxide. Inside, their world was a patchwork of survival:
- Hydroponic gardens that grew lettuce, beans, and the occasional tomato.
- Water reclamation tanks that recycled every drop of sweat and breath.
- Solar arrays that stretched like black wings across the regolith.
- The rover, their lifeline to the outer stations, patched together from spare parts and Sergio’s ingenuity.
Every day was a ritual of maintenance. Every night was a prayer whispered to machines. And through it all, Sergio carried the weight of knowing he was raising his daughter in a tomb of technology, a place where one mistake could mean the end.
Yet Malika thrived. She was curious, fearless, and radiant in ways Sergio could not explain. She called Mars her playground, the domes her castles, the rover her steed. She grew up believing the planet was theirs alone, a secret inheritance of dust and stars.
Sergio had feared that grief would make him cold, that he would become a caretaker rather than a father. But Malika’s laughter thawed him. She would press her small hand against his chest and say, “Your heart is loud, Papa. It keeps me safe.”
He taught her everything:
- How to read the gauges on the oxygen scrubbers.
- How to splice wires and solder circuits.
- How to calculate the pressure differential between domes.
- How to listen to the silence of Mars and know when it was wrong.
By the time she was twelve, she could repair a water pump faster than Sergio. By fourteen, she was designing her own experiments in the hydroponics bay, coaxing beans to grow in Martian soil mixed with compost.
But more than skills, Sergio gave her stories. At night, under the filtered glow of the dome lights, he told her about Earth: oceans that roared and waves that said words like " shishkawash kalah ", forests that breathed, cities that glittered. Malika would close her eyes and imagine waves crashing against her skin, wind tangling her hair, " Shishkawash kalah and flitter flit flat. "
“ Will we ever go there? ” she asked once.
Sergio hesitated, “ Perhaps. But Mars is ours. Your mother dreamed of building a home here. We are her dream made flesh. ”
Malika nodded, but her eyes carried the hunger of someone who wanted more than containment.
It happened on Malika’s sixteenth birthday.
The solar arrays had been battered by a dust storm, their efficiency dropping. Sergio suited up to repair them, stepping out into the thin atmosphere, his breath loud in the helmet. Malika watched from the airlock, her hand pressed against the glass.
The storm had passed, but Mars was never gentle. As Sergio worked, a microfissure in his suit went unnoticed. Oxygen leaked slowly, invisibly. By the time he felt the dizziness, it was too late.
He staggered, vision blurring, lungs burning. The rover was twenty meters away, but his legs betrayed him. He collapsed onto the regolith, red dust rising around him like a shroud.
Inside the dome, alarms screamed. Malika saw her father fall. Without hesitation, she sealed her own suit, cycled the airlock, and ran into the storm.
The world outside was a blur of red dust and silence. Malika’s heart hammered as she reached her father. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing shallow. The suit’s readouts flashed warnings: oxygen critical, pressure failing.
She remembered his lessons. Listen to the silence. Know when it is wrong.
Malika dragged him toward the rover, her small yet sturdy frame straining against his weight. The dust clawed at her visor, the gravity heavy on her muscles. But she did not stop.
Inside the rover, she sealed the hatch and activated emergency oxygen. Sergio gasped, his chest rising, but the fissure in his suit continued to bleed air.
Malika tore open the repair kit. Her hands shook, but she forced them steady. She patched the fissure with resin, sealed the leak, and pressed her helmet against his.
“ Papa, breathe. Please breathe. ”
Minutes stretched into eternity. Then Sergio coughed, his eyes opening. He looked at her, bewildered, alive.
“ You saved me, ” he gasped.
Malika’s tears floated inside her visor, “ You taught me how. ”
Back inside the dome, Sergio lay in the infirmary, recovering. Malika sat beside him, refusing to leave.
“ You should have stayed inside, ” he said weakly.
“ And let you die? ” she snapped. “ Mars doesn’t get to take you! Not yet! ”
Sergio smiled, weary but proud, “ You are stronger than I ever imagined. ”
Malika leaned close, “ You raised me to be. You gave me everything. But Papa… we can’t stay here forever. The systems are failing. The arrays, the recyclers. One day, Mars will win. We need help. ”
Sergio closed his eyes. He knew she was right. The colony had been built for fifty, not two. Every year, the strain grew heavier. He had kept them alive through ingenuity and stubbornness, but the margin for error was shrinking.
“ What do you suggest? ” he asked.
Malika’s voice was steady, “ We find the old comms array. We send a signal to Earth. We tell them we survived. We ask for rescue. After we're gone, they'll send more people to pick up where we left off. Colonies are important for the expansion of the human race. You've told me enough, but we need to go to Earth. I don't want to bury you and be alone. "
Sergio hesitated. For years, he had avoided the comms, fearing silence, fearing rejection. But now, looking at his daughter, he realized she was not a child anymore. She was their future.
“ Then we try, ” he said.
Together, they repaired the ancient communications dish, half-buried in dust. It took weeks of labor, rewiring circuits, replacing panels, and recalibrating transmitters. Malika worked tirelessly, her determination a fire that kept Sergio moving.
At last, the dish hummed to life. They sent a signal: Two survivors. Colony lost. Request rescue.
Days passed. Then weeks and months. The silence of Mars pressed against them. Sergio feared the worst—that Earth had abandoned Mars, that no one would come.
But one night, as Malika tended the hydroponics, the comms crackled. A voice, distorted but human: This is Earth Control. We hear you. Hold on. Help is coming.
Malika screamed with joy, running to her father. Sergio held her, his heart loud against her ear.
Rescue would take a few more months, perhaps a year. But the signal changed everything. They were no longer alone.
Sergio watched his daughter with awe. She had grown into a force of nature, resilient and brilliant. She had saved his life, saved their future.
At night, he told her stories not of Earth, but of her mother—how she had laughed, how she had dreamed of Mars as a new cradle for humanity. Malika listened, tears shining, and said, “ She lives in us. In every breath we take here. In every step. ”
Sergio realized then that the love story was not just between him and his daughter. It was a triangle: father, daughter, and the ghost of the mother who had dreamed this life. Their bond was the continuation of that dream, a defiance against the silence of Mars.
Months later, another storm struck. The domes shuddered, power flickered, oxygen levels dropped. Sergio rushed to stabilize the systems, but exhaustion weighed on him.
Malika stepped forward, “ Papa, rest. I’ll handle it. ”
She moved through the colony with precision, sealing leaks, rerouting power, calming the machines. Sergio watched, pride swelling. She was no longer his child—she was his partner, his equal.
When the storm passed, the colony stood. Malika had saved them again.
A year after the signal, the sky above Mars burned with the descent of a ship. Malika and Sergio stood outside the dome, suits sealed, watching as the rescue craft landed.
The hatch opened, and voices spilled into the silence. Human voices, alive and warm.
Sergio felt tears sting his eyes. Malika gripped his hand. They were going to Earth.
Eventually she looked back, but not tearfully at the only home she'd ever known.
She whispered one word, " Goodbye. "
Bio:
L Christopher Hennessy lives in Coffs Harbour NSW, Australia, He is the author of poetry, short stories, and novels, and has been published since the 1990s. His writing covers many genres.