Beneath the Storm

A Martian dust storm separates Rose on the Mars Space Habitat from Daddy on the surface.

Rose stared at the wall screen in horror, her fingers frozen mid-air. The red dust storm raged like a living thing, swallowing the Martian landscape in a feral embrace. Only the frosted white peak of Olympus Mons pierced through the rust-colored haze far below, a lonely sentinel in a sea of chaos.

Her breath hitched. She snatched her mobile and dialed.

The screen flashed coldly:
"Due to surface conditions, only landline messages to Mars are possible at this time."

“No…” she whispered.

Swiping into the Martian NewsNet, she watched live footage of the storm battering remote facilities. Transport across the surface was paralyzed—only the subterranean railway between Olympus Mons Spaceport and Mars City remained operational.

But Daddy wasn’t in Mars City. He was out in the open trench—Valles Marineris.

Rose pulled on her red uniform with trembling hands. Her green shoes, always a point of pride, looked absurd now. She slung her school bag over one shoulder and stepped into the sterile, humming corridor of Habitat Section Nine.

She arrived thirty minutes early. Others were already there—dozens of quiet, pale faces, children old enough to understand fear but too young to carry it well.

Her best friend Joline sidled up, looping her arm into Rose’s like a safety tether.

“Where’s your daddy today?”

“In the mines. Valles Marineris,” Rose said, her voice tight.

Joline’s expression crumpled. “Mine too.”

They exchanged a glance heavy with unspoken panic.

“They said this storm could last months,” Joline murmured. “No Hoppers. No Crawlers. Nothing moving from the trench.”

“He could be at Main Base. It’s powered, buried deep. It should be safe…” Rose bit her lip. “But what if he wasn’t inside when it hit?”

Joline looked at her, eyes glistening. “It’s the not knowing. That’s the part that eats you.”

Rose swallowed hard. “I yelled at him. Last time we spoke. I told him I hated him...”

She broke. Her knees gave way, and she crumpled against Joline.

“I didn’t mean it, Jo. I didn’t mean it to be the last thing I said…”

Joline wrapped her arms around her, face twisted in her own grief.

All around them, other children sniffled or cried in small groups. The weight of absence was everywhere.

Mrs. Jones entered the classroom moments later, pausing mid-step. The sight of her tear-streaked students seemed to knock the breath out of her. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her gaze hardened—not unkindly, but with resolve.

“Children,” she said firmly, “to your seats.”

They obeyed. The routine was comfort. She began roll call.

“Amelie. Andrew. Bashir…”

The steady rhythm calmed the room.

Then she asked: “Raise your hand if you have a parent on the surface today.”

Almost every hand went up.

“Now keep your hand raised if your parent isn’t at Olympus Mons or Mars City—our designated storm-safe zones.”

Only a third remained.

Mrs. Jones nodded solemnly.

“All right. For those whose parents are in risk zones—we’re going to make a list. Reasons not to be afraid.”

A few hesitant hands rose.

“Robert?”

“Our parents are trained for this,” he said. “Emergency protocols. Drills. Suits.”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Jones said. “Who else?”

“Every base has a storm shelter.”

“Emergency services can still operate underground.”

“This isn’t their first storm!”

The voices came stronger, faster, each answer more confident than the last.

Even Rose felt a flicker of warmth inside the ache. Logic was a balm—temporary, but welcome.

Then she raised her hand.

“Mrs. Jones… why can’t I call my daddy during a storm?”

Mrs. Jones looked around. “Who can help Rose?”

Joseph, the class tech whiz, perked up.

“Radio signals get scattered by dust particles—especially the electrostatic ones in a storm this size. Satellites are useless. Mobile masts might be damaged or buried. Only underground cable comms still work. All the landlines route through Mons Olympus and we are in geostationary orbit above that so that we will always get a signal via the telephone network.”

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Jones. “So when might we hear from your parents again?”

Joseph shrugged. “When the storm clears, when they reach a working landline—or when someone gets a crawler into range.”

Marcus woke to the scream of a proximity alarm. Oxygen low. His HUD flickered red across his visor. There was debris all around from the cave-in.

"Sheesh" he whispered. He’d been unconscious for days.

He pushed himself upright. Head throbbing he studied the collapsed tunnel.

He turned—two bodies lay crumpled by the wall. Masks shattered. Faces swollen grotesquely by Mars' unfiltered atmosphere.

He stood frozen. Then dropped his head.

"I'm sorry, boys," he whispered. “Rest easy.”

He checked his helmet—dented but intact. Somehow, he’d survived the cave-in. He connected to the emergency O₂ tank on the mining rig. A faint ping told him it was working.

He tried the radio.

Static.

“Of course,” he muttered.

He glanced at the rear tunnel—also blocked.

Images of his daughter Rose flooded his mind.

Her anger. Her tears. Her mother barely gone, and him heading back into the mines.

I broke her heart again. But what choice did he have? Someone had to work the surface. Someone had to keep things running.

He wasn’t just surviving now. He had to get back to her.

Marcus got to work. He maneuvered the mining drill, clearing debris chunk by chunk, using steel columns to shore up the ceiling. After two hours, he finally broke through—into clean tunnel.

He made his way to the lift.

A red alert blinked on the screen.
Storm Alert. Evacuation Order Executed. Base Status: Abandoned. Casualties: Marcus Lorne, James Keller, Omar Bhatia – Presumed Deceased.

His blood ran cold.

“They left us. Didn't even check…”

Rose. She thinks I'm dead.

“Bugger. I have to get back.”

He reached the surface. The transport bay was empty—except one vehicle: a heavy-duty lithium crawler. No controls. Fully automated.

But Marcus had an idea.

He hobbled to the local control room and activated one of the auto-mining units. Conveyors rumbled to life. The crawler would depart when full. All he had to do was wait.

He climbed into the engineer's sleeper compartment at the back of the crawler, stripped off his gear, and lay back.

The last thought before sleep overtook him: Hold on, baby. I'm coming.

Three hours later, Rose sat numbly in class when the two officials arrived.

Government-issue suits. Grim faces.

“Rose Lorne?”

Mrs. Jones stood quickly. “Is something—?”

“Protocol requires we inform the child directly.”

Mrs. Jones stepped into the hall with them. When she returned, her face was pale, her eyes wet.

She knelt beside Rose.

“I’m so sorry—”

Rose screamed. A raw, soul-rending sound that silenced the entire floor.

She collapsed by her desk. Joline rushed to her and put her arm around her.

Later, at home, Rose sat on the couch with Joline, blank-eyed, TV flickering unnoticed. Joline sat beside her. A kind-faced counselor made them dinner. The smell filled the room like fog.

In the bathroom, Rose found her father’s old razor.

Her fingers trembled.

I can’t do this. I can’t live with this.

She lifted the blade, pressed it to skin—

And stopped.

A feeling. No voice. No words.

He’s not dead. Not until I see his body. They don’t know.

She stepped back into the room.

“They don’t know,” she said aloud. “They don’t have a body.”

Joline nodded and smiled. The counselor gently noted this as denial. But she didn’t correct her.

Some hopes are too fragile to crush.

Marcus awoke to the jolt of the crawler’s docking clamps.

The unloading bay.

He suited up, stepped into the airlock, and emerged into the base—only to be stopped by two armed guards.

“Hold it. Who the hell—?” One looked at his ID. “Wait. You’re supposed to be dead.”

Marcus grinned, jaw stiff with exhaustion.

“Yeah. I get that a lot. Do you have a landline?”

The younger guard hesitated, then pointed to the nearby wall.

Marcus punched in the number by heart.

The line rang once.

Then—

“Daddy?” Her voice cracked through the speaker.

He closed his eyes. Relief hit like a tidal wave.

“Hi, baby girl. Did you miss me?”

The scream of joy on the other end made him laugh, even as his eyes filled with tears.

In that moment, nothing else mattered.



Notes ▼

Space port on Mons Olympus. There is a giant caldera that could be converted into a port and the great height of the mountain means fuel saving for off-world transport and also that traffic can continue even when there is a major dust storm.
Mars City location at Arcadia Planitia - Only 750-930 miles from Olympus Mons, water supplies, and manageable terrain. Mainly populated by contractors and older Martians. No Children except on visits and holidays.Main industry water mining, ore refinement center, banking and insurance hub. The planet's food supply is mainly from here.
Mines in Valles Marineris - a geological rift across the planet exposing multiple mineral layers and an invaluable mineral resource. Connected by dust road and Martian Rovers - journey time 168 hours (7 days) or Martian Hopper (air transport) - 3 hours. Neither mode is possible in a duststorm.
The Habitat - a giant cylindrical object spinning to achieve 1g gravity and heavily shielded against radiation. Built from material taken from Mars moons and asteroids. It serves as a spaceport between the transports from the surface carrying cargo and miners and the major shuttles on a perpetual loop with Earth. It refines the extracted ore and also has factories to convert the materials into chips and other high-value low-weight commodities. The miners' families live here during the miners' deployment to the surface as well as factory and base technicians. Martian children must also live here until they are eighteen and for one month a year thereafter until the age of fifty and beyond if their jobs require Earth visitations. In geostationary orbit above Mons Olympus to ensure continuous communication.