The Benimars Legacy

By Anthony Sheehy and Charlz O'Quo

Nathan O’Conner is a trainee journalist, coerced into leaving Ireland for Mars. Wong Ay Sying is an insightful daughter of the early pioneers. Her generation, calling themselves Benimars and led by the son of David Brennan, are rebelling against an increasingly irrational administration.

Together, Nathan and Ay Sying must work to uncover the truth, avoid bloodshed and restore Mars to its original vision.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716434044

Book preview

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Chapter 1: The Writer

The rain hammered on the bedroom window. It was a hard shower that wouldn’t last.

His mother shouted up the stairs. Your breakfast is getting cold.

Will ye ever give in? Nathan said, adjusting his tie for the seventh time in the mirror. If I sit down and have breakfast, I’ll miss the bus. He finally figured that enough was enough and ran down the stairs.

Then you’ll take this and eat it on the bus. She hands him a prepared parcel.

And get red sauce down my jacket and shirt on my first day. He took the offered parcel and the clip round the ear. It did not matter that he was twenty-five already with a degree and a good job (which was rare these days,) he would always be his mother’s child. He could easily see her giving him the same treatment in another twenty years. Maybe it was time to start thinking about finding his own place.

‘Nah.’ He thought to himself, shaking his head as he walked out into the summer drizzle. Michael will eat them. He hurried down the road and made it to the bus stop as the Dublin bus arrived. Michael was waiting for him.

You’re cutting it fine this morning. Michael ushered him on to the bus in front of him. Nathan paid for a weekly ticket.

That’s because I had to wait for your breakfast. He turned and handed Michael the parcel his mum prepared for him. Michael took the package, flashing his employee badge to the driver.

Mm. Second breakfast!

Nathan found a seat with a free space opposite. He looked pointedly at Michael’s protruding stomach. You’ve got more to feed than me.

Extra provisions for winter! He replied happily, sitting down and unwrapped the parcel.

It’s only August. Aren’t you worried about…? Nathan stopped as a blob of sauce ran down and lodged itself on Michael’s shirt. Never mind.

Michael looked at it and shrugged. Wouldn’t be a proper CIE employee without a breakfast stain! He picked it off with his finger and licked it off.

Nathan looked away and shook his head, smiling.

Nathan got off at O’Connell Street and walked across the bridge and along the river. To Nathan, Dublin seemed to be at its best in the drizzle. The tide was in and the Liffey was calmly starting to flow back out. He turned into Tara Street and walked past derelict shops, littered with posters advertising gigs and raves. After a hundred yards ravaged, underinvested Dublin turned into modern Dublin. It was like walking out of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first with just a step; modern office buildings belied the economic ravages of the last forty years. He stopped a moment to look back. He wondered if he was ever going to get used to that.

Entering the offices, he was greeted by a smart dressed woman not much older than he was. Good Morning, Mr O’Connor. Welcome to the Irish Times. She directed him to a sign in sheet and gave him a welcome pack. If you go up to the first floor the induction meeting starts in twenty minutes.

Just a moment… The voice behind Nathan made him jump This one’s with me. He turned around to find an elderly man standing there. It took a second to remember the man’s name from the interview panel. Patrick O’Brian. The political editor, if Nathan’s memory served him well. He shook the offered hand and followed him to the lift lobby.

They took the lift to the work floor. As they walked through the open plan office, Nathan noticed that most of the people working there appeared to be much older than he was. He was well aware that the newspaper’s policy was to employ experienced hacks. A young graduate like him was likely to be spending a lot of time making coffee, type setting and chasing advertisements. He had pushed to get a writing job based on his published articles, one of which earned him most prestigious writing award over O’Brian’s own entrant. Could Nathan remember the name? He wondered if he was here. There was an ounce of nervousness building up.

Danny! O’Brian hollered across the room.

Daniel McNamara was the name. It leapt into Nathan’s head the moment O’Brian called it out over the whole office. His heart leapt too. The man stood up, confirming Nathan’s worst suspicions. It was the same man.

Yes boss. Danny replied.

My office now. Bring the Moroccan file.

Yes boss.

Without stopping, he marched into his office with Nathan in tow. Take a seat. He hung up his own coat and sat down at his desk. Danny walked in, file in hand. You’ve met O’Connor here?

Not in person. He held out his hand. Nathan stood up and shook it. Nice article, by the way.

Nathan nodded. Thanks.

That’s enough glad handling. O’Brian barked. There’s a spare desk next to yours? Yes. He did not wait for an answer but pointed to Nathan. Mr O’Connor is taking over the Moroccan story. You’ll take the file and come back and tell me what you think before lunch.

Yes… boss. Nathan hesitated, but went with the flow. He took the proffered file and left O’Brian’s office with Danny.

He was shown his desk and computer. Danny did not seem fazed in having to babysit the whippersnapper. In fact, he just sat down and got on with his own work, a fact that made him glad. There was a letter waiting for him already with his access details. Nathan smiled. Some things around here seemed to be that way just for show. He sat down and started to sift through the material passed to him by Danny.

There was a knock at O’Brian’s door.

Come.

Nathan walked in with the file in hand. O’Brian looked at his watch. It had barely been fifteen minutes since the youth had walked out the door file in hand.

I need to go there.

Without looking up, O’Brian replied Can’t get the material you need off the internet, eh?

It’s not facts this article needs, it’s the emotions the people are feeling. I could write an article based on what I see, but it won’t mean anything to anyone because I won’t feel what’s really going on.

You know how they treat journalists over there.

Nathan indeed did know. Not only was in the notes, but he had also heard the rumours during university. At school, they had been taught how foreign journalists were rounded up and massacred after the coup was presented in a negative light. I know. I don’t need my press pass to see what I need to see.

Where angels fear to tread, eh? O’Brian looked up at him. When Nathan did not respond, he pulled a packet from his drawer, dropped it on the table and turned back to his work. The flight leaves tomorrow morning at eight-thirty. You have two nights.

Nathan picked up the packet. Thanks Boss.

Yes, yes. Come back alive or I’ll sack you, you hear?

Walking out of the office Nathan examined the contents. The flights, hotel and transfer had all been arranged last week. He sat down at his desk.

In at the deep end? Danny said leaning over and nodded at the tickets. Nathan nodded, feeling a little numb.

Does he always do this kind of thing?

He’s always one step ahead. It’s the way he works. Danny smiled. Welcome to world of political journalism.

The body had been exposed to the low pressure of Mars’ surface for nearly a minute now, it was starting to expand. There was not much time left. Ay Sying Wong concentrated on placing the mask over the face while Jack Brennan deployed the pressure capsule. She pulled away just in time as the capsule engulfed the body. Jack hit the pressure valve and the capsule filled with air. The body inside the capsule started to reduce in size. Ay Sying looked at her watch and took a deep breath.

Jack looked at his watch and nodded to Ay Sying with a smile.

Sixty-eight seconds. He caught his breath. We did it.

After a few moments catching their breath, they got up. Jack took hold of the head of the capsule, while Ay Sying took the feet. They lifted the body into the airlock and re-pressurised. Once the inner door was open, they lifted the capsule inside and lay it on the ground at the feet of Major Storm. They took off their helmets and waited.

The intense military man from Idaho bent down and looked at the capsules display. He then stood up and addressed them both.

Congratulations, the unfortunate victim has a seventy per cent chance of making a full recovery.

There was applause, both from the newly created Emergency Response Team, made up of the young people of Mars, and the spectators, made up of their parents and the Council. Ay Sying noted that Judge Ness Brennan looked on with carefully concealed pride at her son. She smiled and nodded to Ay Sying, who returned her smile.

The Council Chairperson, Wei Han Tan, approached Major Storm.

Dave, you’ve done a great job getting this team up to scratch. Well done. They shook hands. Wei Han knew better than to try to approach Jack and Ay Sying. He turned to address the onlookers.

As he spoke of the success of getting such a team organised and praised the youth of Mars for their contribution, Ay Sying looked at Jack. She could almost feel the anger for the older man rolling off him. She felt that, for a moment, Jack was poised to do something stupid. Standing next to him, she moved ever so slightly closer so that she knocked against him gently.

Stick to the plan. She whispered to him. She felt his muscles go tense, and then relax. It would not do to have him make such grand plans only to throw it all away. Besides, any open show of dissent for the current administration would only drive a bigger wedge between mother and son. Families were precious things on Mars. She looked at her own parents. At least they were not involved in the politics of it all. Her father was head of the Agricultural Technology section and her mother managed the shop that sold the produce to the people of Opportunity. Her father was openly proud of his daughter and took every opportunity to show it.

All of this meant that the coming year was going to be a tough one. She could feel it all coming to a head very soon.

After all the talk and congratulations were over, the Major dismissed Jack and then turned to her. He looked at her suit.

I know, she said, nodding. I didn’t engage the heating circuit.

I noticed. He replied. Procedure is there to make sure that you do not become a victim of circumstance.

But the extra seconds needed to verify the heating circuit would have pushed us beyond seventy seconds, and it’s not cold out there today.

Reducing the survivability by nearly half! There are other ways to cut time. I’m not going to leave it to hope that my best recruit doesn’t get it wrong and end up freezing to death. Cut corners like that next time and I will take exception to it. Do you understand me?

Yes sir.

He smiled. Good. I’ll look after Annie here. You carry on. He nodded towards her family. He knelt to unpack the casualty dummy from its protective casing.

She headed over to her family, passing Jack on the way.

Gave you grief for not cutting in your heating? he commented.

She looked back at him. Nothing I can’t handle. She smiled. She was about to turn away when he grabbed her arm.

He looked at her seriously. Thank you.

She nodded and turned away to find her family. Now was not the time for talk with so many people around.

Michael greeted Nathan as he walked off the ha’penny bridge.

So how was your first day? Michael steered him into the waiting bar. I’d expect it was all boring stuff. Any pretty women in there?

Plenty! Nathan teased as he reached the bar. Two pints of Guinness. Except everyone there’s ten years older than me.

Ten years more experienced. Michael hinted.

Nathan pulled the ticket out and let Michael see it.

You’re going to Morocco? His expression went from surprise, to joy, to the question: Are you mad? Do you know what they do to journalists there?

What they did. Nathan corrected him. Yes. I do but that was then. I’m not going to live there, just to get some background.

Well I’ve got to hand it to you. For a first day that is impressive. You’re sure there’s nothing funny about it.

Seems genuine enough. My new boss is the forward-thinking kind. I think he had me figured out before I even got there. The date on those tickets is from last week.

Well, Michael lifted his glass. Fair dues to you.

Nathan did not elaborate where he was leaving for as his dad dropped him off at the airport the next morning.

Well, Son, here we are. he said as they pulled up. Now where did you say you were going?

I didn’t, dad. He got out and grabbed his bag from the bag seat. But I’ll give you a call when I land. I’m back on Thursday.

Sale airport was under an oppressive heat. The Moroccan army that kept the airport running added to the oppressive feeling. He soon learned that the railway was closed, and he would have to catch a cab to his hotel in Kenitra. He was glad to get out of the airport. There was still just a little bit of cool in the air to make the breeze bearable.

He accepted the driver’s offer to drive quickly around Rabat’s treasured locations before heading north on the N1. It gave Nathan an insight into the state of the nation’s capital city. He got the driver to talk about his family on the journey. By the time he had reached his hotel in Kenitra, he had learned a lot. He gave a generous tip and the driver gave him his card, for the return trip.

After checking in at the hotel, he wandered around town for the afternoon. Arriving back after sunset he settled in the bar to listen to the conversation around him. After about half-an-hour a man approached the bar and sat down beside him.

You are a little out of place in this town. The man smiled at him. Although he looked to be a local, his accent was tinged with an American twang. What is an Irishman doing in Kenitra?

How did you know I was Irish?

What! Apart from the accent? He ordered some drinks. Do you want another one?

I think I’ll pass.

The man nodded. You ordered a Guinness and you didn’t like it. It’s Nigerian Guinness, you know.

Ah… he said looking down at the half-empty glass. He decided that he liked this man. The name’s Nathan O’Connor. He offered his hand.

Youssef Mazouzi. Youssef raised an eyebrow as he shook Nathan’s hand. Come join me and my friends. When Nathan was about to refuse, he raised his hand. Please, I insist.

They sat down with two other young men about Nathan’s age. Let me introduce Paul Harris Nathan shook hands with the square jawed American, sweating like a pig in the heat of the evening. Malcolm Johnson. Nathan shook hands with the stocky man with fire in his eyes. Meet Nathan O’Connor.

Really? No way! Paul sat up, suddenly interested.

There was something about the names that triggered Nathan’s memory. He recognised them. Is there something I should…? He stopped as a memory surfaced. The fifty-two.

Go on. Youssef prompted.

I wrote a piece for my degree work. It was based on a conversation with… Nathan hesitated. The person he had heard this from had not wanted to be known. …with someone who was attending St. Patricks at the same time as me. You’ve all been selected according to your genetic compatibility to undertake a US project to go to Saturn and stay there for five years and then return. It’s supposed to be a precursor to the Ark Project to populate the ringed system with a genetic store house.

I told you it was Stoney. Paul sat back with an air of triumph and looked over at Malcolm. He was the only one in Ireland at the time.

That article was for my course work. It was never meant for publication.

But someone published it and now everyone knows about us. Malcolm drew a draught from his pint. He leaned forward and looked at Nathan. You did that.

It was a good piece of writing. Yousef added. In fact, it was a breath of fresh air. They wouldn’t let us speak to anyone, or even with each other. They were so tight you could hear them breaking wind from ten miles away.

What are you guys doing here in Morocco? Nathan was starting to smell a rat.

This is my hometown. Youssef answered. We’ve all completed our studies and are heading back to Florida to begin our flight training.

Have you all been selected? Nathan asked.

We are all in the last twenty-eight. We get to find out which teams we are in later this year. One team will back up the other.

Paul sat up again. You were in university at the time. What are you up to now? Are you chasing your old story?

Nathan shook his head. He spoke carefully, lowering his voice. I started work yesterday for an Irish newspaper. They gave me an article to write about Morocco and I came here to see what Morocco had to say for itself.

Youssef looked around nervously. You are right to be careful what you say. People around here listen to what the ruling party says. And your profession is not well liked by them.

I didn’t come here so much to gather information as to see how people really lived. There is this impression of this country; that people are dying on the streets; the government is in disarray; no food.

You’re saying didn’t come here to find us? Malcolm asked.

I have a suspicion someone else may have had something like this in mind. Nathan thought about O’Brian and the pre-booked tickets and hotel. In fact, thinking about it, he could probably make a very sure bet that this was O’Brian’s intention all along. But while I am here, I suppose I could kill two birds with one stone. If you are willing, that is.

Tomorrow, I’m going to take us up to see the solar farm in the morning. Malcolm here specialises in engineering, so he wants to see that. I studied botany. I was hoping that I could learn how to help my own country overcome its problems. The desert is pushing everything back to the sea. There is practically no one in the interior these days. Did you know that this country use to be home to thirty million people? Do you know how many live here now?

Nathan shook his head. I can’t find any official information. Rumours are that there’s less than half of the population left…

Less than half a million.

Where did they all go?

Europe, America. I understand that many died when the famine hit after the war.

Didn’t Morocco have soldiers with the UN?

No-one talks about that. It was Youssef’s turn to lower his voice. At least not in company. Look, we’ll have time to talk tomorrow. He spoke normally again. You must come with us tomorrow and end with dinner at my place tomorrow. I insist, and in this country, it is rude to refuse.

Then in that case I’ll mind my manners. I’d be delighted to join you.

Paul phoned his contact in the US when he got to his room. She had asked him to call if he made contact with the young man.

Can’t stay long. Is he there?

You were right, he’s here.

Good. Ask him about his uncle.

Won’t he then figure out something’s up?

If he’s half the young man we hope he is it won’t take him long to figure out that he’s being led on.

Okay. No Problem.

The call ended.

In the morning, Nathan met up with Paul and Malcolm at breakfast.

During breakfast, Paul looked carefully at Nathan and asked, Is it true that you have an uncle on Mars?

Nathan was stunned. He tried not to show it. He decided at that moment to put a piece of toast in his mouth. Malcolm looked between the two of them, wondering what was going on. Nathan swallowed the mouthful and took a deep breath.

Yes, it is true, but my family don’t talk about Uncle David a lot. I don’t know a lot about him. How did…

How did I know? Paul kept a straight face. It’s not just journalists that have contacts in high places.

Hey. This is getting into scary territory. Malcolm complained. Who do you know that would know about him?

Ah, I was just messing around. Paul smiled suddenly, punching Malcom in the arm. Seriously, I’m just fooling around.

Malcolm looked over at David. You really have an uncle on Mars?

I did. He’s no longer alive. I guess I have some cousins up there too.

That’s well cool.

Not as cool as where you will be going.

If we get picked. Paul added.

If you get picked. Nathan felt easier now that he had diverted the conversation. What do you think your chances are?

Well, I am the best pilot they have…

Malcolm laughed. And the most humble.

Youssef turned up at that moment.

Are you ready to go?

We’re done. Paul said. They looked at Nathan.

Me too. He put his napkin aside and got up.

Good, let’s get going. It’s going to be a long day.

They got in Youssef’s car and headed out of town and up into the hills. As they drove Nathan thought about Paul’s question. How did he really know? He knew their meeting was not a coincidence. That must have been O’Brian’s doing. What did his uncle have to do with it? This was going to