Legacy In the Dust

By Dianna Aubin

They went to Mars to build humanity's future. What they found could change everything; if the truth survives.

Beneath the planet's frozen crust, the Ares VI team discovered more than dust and rock. They found life; fragile, thriving, and unlike anything on Earth. But as their findings threatened to upend corporate interests and political agendas, a silent war began. Data was buried, careers destroyed, and the scientists themselves became targets in a campaign to erase the discovery forever.

Now, as whispers of the truth ignite a global movement, Dr. Aris Thorne, Lena Hanson, and journalist Sarah Chen must risk everything to protect the evidence; and force the world to confront the cost of humanity's ambitions beyond Earth. From the shadowy corridors of power to the windswept plains of Mars, their struggle will determine whether humanity's reach for the stars becomes an act of stewardship… or another story of greed, silence, and ruin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dianna Aubin
• Release date: Jul 18, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231670840

Dianna Aubin

Dianna Aubin enjoys reading, hiking, gardening, travelling, writing, playing video games with her husband and playing with her two little cats.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Ares VI lander shuddered as its landing thrusters cut off, the metallic vibrations running up through the seats and skeletal walls. Rust-colored dust erupted outward, enveloping the viewport in a swirling cloud of crimson. For a long moment, there was only the low whine of cooling systems and the muffled creak of metal adjusting to its new home.

Inside, Dr. Lena Hanson sat frozen in her harness, her fingers gripping the straps even after the green light flicked on. Her heart hammered in her ears. The landing had been flawless; smooth, almost anticlimactic; but the silence that followed felt... wrong. A silence too vast, too absolute.

Touchdown confirmed, Captain Eva Rostova said at last, her voice clipped, controlled. She was the embodiment of composure, the kind of person who could watch the world burn and still calmly log the event.

Dr. Jian Li broke the quiet next, his eyes glued to the data streaming across his tablet. Stability checks complete. External temperature steady at minus fifty-three. No unusual seismic activity within two kilometers. Hull integrity... solid. His voice carried a faint tremor despite the good news.

Anya Sharma, still buckled in her seat, leaned forward, peering through the small, dust-blurred viewport. Her breath fogged the glass. So this is it? Mars. Her tone hovered between awe and unease. It feels... smaller from here. Smaller and lonelier.

Unbuckle, Rostova ordered. Let’s get to work. We didn’t travel fifty-five million kilometers to gawk at the scenery.

Lena finally exhaled, forcing her trembling hands to release the harness. Everything checks out? she asked, though her voice betrayed the anxiety she was trying to suppress. Radiation, atmospheric pressure, everything the public relations people promised?

‘Safe,’ Jian said dryly, unstrapping himself. Within acceptable ranges, if you believe the suits back home. But... He hesitated, tapping a screen. The spikes are strange. Small, transient, but there.

They said to expect fluctuations, Rostova cut in, her tone leaving no room for debate. The detonations at the poles stirred up the atmosphere. We knew there’d be side effects.

Lena glanced at her own wrist monitor, watching the numbers flicker. Within range. Always within range. And yet her stomach twisted as she whispered, almost to herself, Feels too clean. Too rehearsed.

Anya shot her a nervous look but didn’t comment. Instead, she nodded toward the deployment controls. Shall we open the habitat modules? I’d rather be inside something that doesn’t feel like it could crumple with a stiff breeze.

Rostova gave the command, and the habitat began to unfold outside, panels locking into place with mechanical precision. The sound of machinery whirring was the only thing breaking the oppressive silence of the Martian plain.

Lena watched the skeletal framework expand, a miracle of human engineering, and yet, as the domes inflated, she couldn’t shake the feeling it was less a shelter and more a cage; one placed in the middle of a desert that didn’t want them.

CHAPTER TWO

The habitat groaned softly as another section locked into place, the mechanical arms retracting like tired limbs. Outside the transparent panels, the Martian horizon stretched endlessly; a wash of rust and shadow broken only by distant, jagged ridges. Inside, the air recyclers hummed, the sound oddly loud in the otherwise silent space.

Dr. Jian Li stood hunched over a console, his dark eyes narrowed at the shifting lines of his geological readouts. Every few seconds he muttered something in Mandarin, quiet enough that only Lena caught the edge of it as she passed. He didn’t look up when she stopped beside him.

Something wrong with the scans? Lena asked, her voice kept low so Rostova wouldn’t immediately pounce.

Jian exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. Not... wrong. Just... odd. He tapped the screen, where faint, rhythmic spikes blinked in a pattern. Subsurface tremors. Too regular to be tectonic. Too faint to be equipment error.

Could be the detonations echoing still, Lena suggested, though the words felt hollow even as she said them. Residual energy, maybe?

That’s what I thought. Jian scrolled through the data, frowning. But the timing doesn’t fit. And it’s deep. Kilometers beneath us. This... isn’t just noise.

From across the room, Captain Eva Rostova’s voice cut through their hushed conversation. Report.

Jian hesitated, glancing at Lena, before answering. Minor anomalies in the subsurface readings. Nothing threatening, but I’ll keep monitoring.

Rostova, standing by the viewport with her arms crossed, didn’t turn. Log it. Keep your focus on primary scans for now. We didn’t come here to chase shadows in the dirt.

Anya, crouched near the sample station, looked up at that. Sometimes shadows in the dirt are exactly why we are here, Captain. If Jian’s picking up patterns, maybe it’s something alive. Or at least something chemical we didn’t predict.

Rostova finally turned, her expression sharp. Or maybe it’s static. Our job is to make this place habitable, not indulge every curious twitch the planet gives us.

Lena stepped between them, raising her hands slightly. Let’s not start snapping at each other on day two. We’ll keep logging anomalies. If they grow... we address them.

Jian returned his eyes to the monitor, but his shoulders stayed tense. They’re already growing, he murmured, too low for Rostova to hear.

Later, after the day’s work wound down, the crew gathered in the common module. The air smelled faintly metallic; a side effect of the habitat’s filters warming up; and the only sound was the low hiss of recycled oxygen. Outside, through the viewport, the sun hung low, painting the dust plains in a burnt-orange haze.

Anya sipped from a metal cup, her hands trembling slightly as she cradled the warmth. I don’t care how many simulations we ran. This place... feels wrong. It’s so empty. Like it’s holding its breath.

Jian let out a short, humorless laugh. Empty doesn’t bother me. Moving does. And those tremors... He trailed off, glancing at Lena.

Lena shook her head. Nothing conclusive yet. And even if there’s something, we can’t jump to conclusions.

Rostova sat at the head of the table, her posture straight as a blade. Conclusions are luxuries. Facts first. Until those scans show a threat, they’re just numbers.

Anya’s voice sharpened. Numbers can kill us just as fast as claws or teeth, Captain. If something’s stirring under the surface, we need to know before it decides to surface.

For a moment, silence filled the module again, broken only by the faint hum of the life support. Lena’s gaze drifted to the viewport, to the vast sea of red dust beyond. The horizon seemed to shift in the low light, as if the planet itself were rolling in its sleep.

She whispered, barely audible, Feels like Mars is watching us.

Jian’s fingers stilled on his tablet, and even Rostova didn’t dismiss the thought outright. The hum of the recyclers grew louder, or maybe it only felt that way.

CHAPTER THREE

THE MARTIAN PLAIN WAS unnervingly still, save for the faint hiss of dust whispering against the rover’s hull. The crew moved slowly, careful not to kick up more of the planet’s powdery soil than necessary. It clung to everything; boots, gloves, the seams of their equipment; turning each of them into red-smeared ghosts against the flat horizon.

Anya crouched near a shallow depression, her gloved hands hovering over a patch of disturbed soil. Her visor camera whirred as she focused in, her breath catching audibly over the comms.

Lena... Jian... you’re going to want to see this.

Rostova’s voice, crisp and controlled, cut in from where she stood by the rover. Report, Sharma. Is it another rock, or are we finally finding something worth the oxygen we’re burning?

Anya ignored the barb and adjusted her light. A faint, ethereal glow seeped through the fine grit, tracing delicate lines across the surface like veins beneath translucent skin. She brushed gently at the soil, uncovering a cluster of pale filaments that pulsed with an otherworldly bioluminescence.

This... isn’t mineral, Anya whispered, her voice trembling with awe. It’s alive.

Jian, already kneeling beside her, extended a probe. The glow intensified where the tip made contact, the tendrils flexing as though reacting to the disturbance. It’s responding to us, he murmured. Actively. That’s no chemical trick.

Rostova approached, her shadow stretching long across the dirt. Is it safe to touch?

Unknown, Anya said quickly, shooting her a look. We’re not about to shove our gloves into something we don’t understand. But look at it... this structure; She adjusted her scanner. The mycelium is denser than any terrestrial fungus, layered like armor. And the luminescence... it’s constant, not triggered by external light. This is a closed energy system.

Jian tilted his head. Or it’s feeding on something we can’t see. Radiation, maybe. His voice lowered. Wouldn’t be surprising, given the detonations.

Lena, still by the rover, felt the knot in her gut tighten. Radiation readings? she asked.

Anya glanced at her wrist unit. Elevated, but nowhere near lethal. Nothing we haven’t seen around the landing site.

Rostova straightened, her posture sharp. Bag it. Samples only. We’re not dragging this glowing weed back into the habitat without knowing what it does.

Anya’s eyes flashed behind her visor. With respect, Captain, we should be studying this in controlled conditions. If this organism survived; and thrives; in residual radiation, its genome could teach us how to develop radiation-resistant crops, maybe even medical tech. This is the kind of breakthrough we came here for.

Rostova folded her arms. Or it’s the kind of breakthrough that ends with us choking on spores while mission control debates how to write our obituaries.

Jian stood, brushing the dust from his knees. It’s spreading, he observed quietly, gesturing to the faint glow tracing outward from the depression, threading like veins beneath the soil. That patch wasn’t this large on my scans yesterday.

Lena moved closer, crouching to watch the faintly glowing strands creep outward, almost imperceptibly, but undeniably moving. How fast? she asked.

Jian scrolled through his tablet, his brow furrowing. Hard to quantify. But fast enough that I don’t like it.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the static buzz of their comms and the faint, eerie hum of the fungus itself; a noise they couldn’t quite place, like a frequency just beyond hearing.

Back in the habitat, the sample sat sealed within a reinforced chamber in the lab. The glow was brighter now, casting long, unnatural shadows across the sterile white walls. The crew gathered around, each watching it with a different expression: awe, fear, calculation.

Anya’s fingers danced across the console as she pulled up magnified scans. Cell walls reinforced with an unknown protein lattice, she said, her tone tight with excitement. It metabolizes radiation as energy. Metabolizes it. This is; this could change everything we know about extremophiles.

Jian leaned over her shoulder, his frown deepening. Or it’s a warning sign. Life that thrives on radiation doesn’t stop at just surviving. It uses it. Spreads because of it. That glow? It’s growing faster than any terrestrial fungus could.

Rostova’s voice cut in like a blade. Then the answer’s simple. Destroy it before it spreads outside containment. We don’t risk the mission for a science project.

Anya spun toward her. Destroy it? This could be the discovery of the century. Its genome alone could;

This isn’t a research station, Rostova interrupted, her tone cold. This is a foothold. A first step in turning Mars into a second home. That thing out there; she jabbed a finger toward the glowing mass, ; wasn’t in any pre-mission survey. If it spreads unchecked, it could compromise the soil, our crops, even the habitat systems.

Lena, standing slightly apart, raised a hand. We’re not deciding anything tonight. We observe, isolate, study the growth patterns. No rash actions until we know the full risk.

Jian met her eyes, his voice quieter. And what if we find out too late?

The room fell silent, the glow from the chamber pulsing softly as though mocking their hesitation. The hum of the life support systems seemed louder now, blending with the faint, almost living thrum of the organism sealed just meters away.

Anya finally broke the silence, her voice low but firm. If Mars has life, we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist just because it makes us uncomfortable. We study it, we learn. That’s what scientists do.

And soldiers survive, Rostova muttered, turning sharply and heading for the command module.

Jian looked to Lena, his expression unreadable. Sooner or later, he said softly, we’re going to have to choose which we are.

Lena stared through the glass at the pulsing strands of Radiifungus martianus, each beat of light syncing with the faint vibration in the floor beneath her boots. For a fleeting moment, she swore the hum she felt wasn’t just from the organism; it was deeper, older, rising from beneath the Martian crust itself.

CHAPTER FOUR

The rover’s engine rumbled low as it crawled over the cracked Martian plain, its treads leaving faint impressions in the ochre soil. The horizon was a smear of rust and shadow beneath the pale disk of the sun, the light thin and cold, doing little to chase the chill from the cabin. Inside, the crew sat in tense silence, the air heavy with recycled oxygen and unspoken dread. It wasn’t just another survey run. This time, they were following Jian’s signal; the one that pulsed faintly beneath the surface like a buried heartbeat.

Lena sat near the console, fingers gripping the edge of her seat. She stared at the waveform dancing across the display, that steady, unnatural rhythm. Still reading the same frequency? she asked, her voice breaking the stillness.

Jian, hunched beside her, nodded. Yes. Stronger now that we’re closer. It’s not tectonic. It’s... too precise. Almost patterned.

From the driver’s seat, Rostova’s eyes flicked up from the terrain feed, her voice a low growl. Patterned like machinery? Or patterned like something alive?

Jian hesitated before answering. Could be either. Could be both.

Anya, seated at the rear, leaned forward, her hands tightening on her harness. Both? What does that even mean? You think there’s; what, a civilization down there? Machines? A hive? Her voice cracked, betraying the fear she had been trying to keep buried.

Jian didn’t meet her eyes. All I know is this: natural tremors don’t communicate. These pulses... they repeat, like a message.

Rostova snorted softly, her hands steady on the controls as the rover descended a shallow incline. Messages don’t matter if we don’t live long enough to decode them. Our job is to assess the threat and get out. Not chat with whatever’s knocking on the crust.

Lena’s eyes lingered on the screen a moment longer, then drifted to the small viewport beside her. The land ahead was shifting; subtly, but undeniably. A shallow basin stretched outward, its center darker than the surrounding plain, the soil smoother, as though something beneath had stirred and leveled it. At its far edge, a thin fissure yawned open, a black mouth leading into the depths.

That’s it, Jian murmured. Signal’s strongest there.

Rostova brought the rover to a halt, the engine’s low hum fading into the heavy silence. The fissure gaped wide before them, a wound in the planet’s surface. The faint glow of bioluminescence; soft, green-white threads; traced along the jagged edges, like veins leading downward.

For a long moment, none of them moved.

Anya broke the silence first, her voice small. It’s beautiful, she whispered, almost reverently. Like the fungus, but... older. Stronger.

Rostova unbuckled her harness, her movements sharp. Suit up. We’re going in.

Anya’s head snapped toward her. Going in? That wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to survey, take readings, maybe drop a drone.

The drone’s sensors can’t penetrate that deep, Rostova replied flatly, already pulling on her helmet. We need eyes down there. And ears.

Jian glanced at Lena, his brow furrowed. It’s dangerous. We don’t know how stable the passage is. Or what’s making that signal.

Lena hesitated, her gaze flicking between the three of them. We don’t have to go deep. Just far enough to get visuals and samples. Then we pull back and report.

Rostova’s voice was cold steel. We go, we see, we leave. No heroics. No one wanders. Clear?

Anya’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded reluctantly. Clear.

The descent into the fissure was slow, every step deliberate. The Martian soil gave way to darker rock, slick with a faint sheen of moisture that fogged their visors. The glow of the Radiifungus; if it even was the same organism; became stronger as they descended, curling along the walls in intricate webs. The faint hum that had haunted their readings was audible now, a low vibration that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Anya whispered over the comms, her voice trembling despite the filters. It’s not just sound. You feel that? In your bones?

Jian’s reply was grim. Low-frequency resonance. Could be geological... but it’s too steady.

Rostova kept her rifle raised, her eyes scanning the shifting shadows. Keep moving. We get what we came for and get out.

Lena’s breath fogged her visor as she moved carefully along the uneven ground, her suit’s lights sweeping the cavern walls. The bioluminescent strands thickened as they went deeper, some dangling like vines, others pulsing gently as though alive in ways that went beyond mere growth. The sound; no, the feeling; grew stronger, like a slow, deliberate heartbeat beneath their feet.

Look, Jian murmured, pointing ahead. The fissure widened suddenly, opening into a vast subterranean cavern. The scale of it stole their words for a moment; an underground cathedral of stone and light, the walls slick and alive with the glowing fungus. The air inside was thicker, carrying a metallic tang that burned faintly in their throats despite the filters.

Anya’s awe broke through her fear. It’s a whole ecosystem, she breathed. Look at this... it’s not just fungus. There’s... movement.

Her lights swept across the cavern floor, revealing shapes; long, jointed shapes; crawling over the rocks. Chitin gleamed faintly in the bioluminescent glow, segmented bodies the size of small vehicles moving with an unsettling, deliberate grace. Their legs clicked against the stone in a soft, rhythmic cadence, like a distant drumbeat.

Rostova’s rifle snapped up, her posture rigid. Contacts, she hissed. Multiple. Everyone stay calm. Don’t draw attention.

One of the creatures shifted its massive head, multifaceted eyes catching the beam of Lena’s helmet light. Its mandibles, jagged and glistening, flexed once before it turned away, continuing its crawl across the cavern. It wasn’t attacking... not yet.

Jian’s voice was low, incredulous. They’re coordinated. Moving like a colony.

Anya’s fear momentarily gave way to curiosity. If they’re part of the same system as the fungus... maybe they’re;

A sound split the air before she could finish. A deep, wet, gurgling noise from further within the cavern, followed by a heavy, undulating movement that made the ground beneath them tremble.

From the shadows, it emerged.

An amorphous mass of shifting flesh and glistening metallic sheen, its form pulsing as though it struggled to maintain shape. Veins of glowing fluid ran beneath its translucent surface, every pulse releasing a faint hiss of vapor. It moved like liquid, flowing and reforming, tendrils unfurling and retracting with eerie precision. The radiation meters on their suits spiked instantly, alarms chirping in discordant unison.

Back. Now, Rostova barked, her voice sharp as a blade. That thing is hot.

Anya stared, her voice barely a whisper. It’s... alive. Thriving in this. The radiation isn’t killing it; it’s... fueling it.

The creature shifted, turning what might have been a sensory cluster toward them. A low, vibrating hum rippled through the air, resonating through their chests.

Rostova fired first.

The rover-issued rifle discharged a pulse of searing energy, striking the amorphous mass. For a heartbeat, the creature recoiled, its form rippling violently. But then it surged forward, the wounded section excreting a torrent of glowing, viscous fluid that hissed and bubbled as it splattered across the cavern floor. The rock beneath it began to corrode instantly.

Move! Lena shouted, grabbing Anya by the arm as a tendril lashed outward, striking the stone where they had been standing seconds earlier. The impact sent shards of rock flying, their suits’ external layers absorbing the worst of it.

Jian fired a second shot, his voice shaking. It’s not stopping!

Rostova’s orders came sharp and fast. Back to the fissure! Now! Keep your eyes on the big one; don’t provoke the crawlers!

They scrambled, boots slipping on the damp rock as the hum intensified, reverberating through the cavern like a living siren. The chitinous creatures shifted, some retreating into shadow, others turning toward the disturbance, their movements now sharper, more deliberate.

The amorphous entity surged again, but a volley of energy blasts from Rostova’s rifle staggered it long enough for the team to gain distance. The glowing fluid pooled behind them, casting the cavern in a sickly, pulsating light as they climbed the incline back toward the rover.

By the time they sealed the hatch behind them, the sound of the hum still reverberated in their bones. None of them spoke for several minutes, the only noise the rasp of their breathing and the faint, static-laced buzz of the comms.

Finally, Anya whispered, her voice thin. We’re not alone down there. Not by a long shot.

Jian stared at the readout, where the pulsing signal still registered, now accompanied by new, sharper spikes. No, he murmured. And whatever’s down there... it knows we’re here.

Rostova’s hands tightened on the controls, her jaw set like iron. Then we make sure we’re ready before we go back. Next time, we’re not walking into the dark with toy rifles and curiosity.

Lena stared out the viewport as the rover rumbled back toward the habitat. The horizon was just as endless, just as empty, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the planet beneath her feet was awake now, aware; and waiting.

CHAPTER FIVE

The habitat felt smaller than ever when