Reborn in 2011, I am the chief designer of aerospace.

Sergei wondered to himself just how dangerous this was. Mars has existed for billions of years, so why did the landslide happen at the very moment they passed by?

But at this moment, everyone's throats tightened, and no one wanted to say anything more, so they just silently continued on their way.

Another day passed, and the wheels of the second "Rock Jumper" also got stuck, so they had to dismantle it and scrap it.

Throughout the journey, Sergei's most enjoyable moments were when it was his turn to drive the off-road vehicle. Apart from Mila, who still had her arm in a cast, everyone else took turns driving.

The driver's seat gave him a space to be alone, allowing his thoughts to wander. He kept replaying memories of home in his mind, but home seemed to be getting more and more out of reach, and those familiar scenes were gradually becoming blurred.

He felt as if he would be trapped on Mars forever, endlessly driving this off-road vehicle through the alien desert, and the idea of ​​returning home was ultimately just a distant dream.

As the guide, Sergei was tasked with finding the best route. After traveling through the valley for several hours, he suddenly realized that the seemingly gentle valley in front of him was actually an ancient riverbed that had long since dried up.

Once the mystery was understood, the scene before him suddenly became clear. The ancient water flow had carved deep gullies into the cliffs on both sides, leaving parallel stripes on the dark rock layers. During a break between stops for shift changes, Sergei walked to the former riverbank and carefully examined the rock formations.

To his disappointment, what made up this place was not the sandstone or shale commonly found in canyons, but some kind of volcanic rock.

This means that it is impossible to find fossils here.

The closer to the equator, the stronger the wind. The Rock Jumper was originally designed for scientific research. There was an instrument panel in front of the co-pilot’s seat. Sergei glanced at the instrument panel and found that the gusts of wind had soared to 100 kilometers per hour. He did a quick mental calculation.

"The wind speed is over sixty kilometers per hour!" he shouted.

Song Xingye glanced at the dial: "That's right."

He answered calmly, his face expressionless.

"But that's already hurricane-level wind speed!"

Song Xingye shook his head: "On Mars, this wouldn't even qualify as a hurricane."

Indeed, the next time he stopped, Sergei stood in the wind with his arms outstretched to the sides. He could feel the breeze, but he could hardly feel any resistance from the wind, and the sand on the ground remained completely still.

A few days later, they finally reached the equator.

"Shouldn't we hold some kind of ceremony?" Sergei asked.

"What ceremony?" Song Xingye asked in return.

"I don't know either, like opening a bottle of champagne or something?"

You wish!

"We should at least do something, let's stop and take a good look," Sergei insisted.

"What's so interesting about this place? Does it look any different from other places? It's just an imaginary latitude line; there's nothing to see here at all."

"I don't know, I'll just keep it as a memento."

Song Xingye checked the navigation data on his watch and laser gyroscope: "At the current speed, we'll cross the equator in twenty minutes, which will be just in time for our shift change. We need to find a place to rest. Since you're so insistent, let's stop on the equator line."

He radioed Han Jing, who was driving the SUV, ordering him to stop immediately and change shifts.

The parking spot was located in a rugged area, with low cliffs and loose rocks everywhere. After Sergei's persistent pleading, Song Xingye found a small depression full of sand, carefully compared it with the GPS, and then drew a line on the soil.

"Okay," he said, "right here."

"Are you sure you're accurate?" Sergei asked.

"pretty close."

Sergei stood on the south side of the boundary line, solemnly stepped across, and then took a step back.

"One," he counted.

"In the past, sailors would get their ears pierced the first time they crossed the equator," Han Jing joked. "Want me to pierce yours too?"

"I already have pierced ears," Sergei replied.

He crossed the line again, stepped back, and then crossed it again. "Two, three."

"We can play one more," Han Jing said.

"That won't be necessary," Sergei said, crossing the line again. "Four times, five times, six times."

"What are you doing?"

"Nine times, ten times." Sergei shuttled back and forth between the two sides of the boundary.

He looked up at Han Jing: "This is definitely a record, right? The person who has crossed the equator the most times on Mars."

He stopped walking back and forth and started jumping on both sides of the boundary line, alternating his feet, "Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twentieth."

"Damn it," Han Jing muttered, "I can't even bear to look at this idiot."

Song Xingye shook his head: "Let him be. Consider it a way to vent his excess energy."

A few minutes later, Sergei finally stopped.

"Have you jumped enough?" Song Xingye asked.

"That's about it, one hundred and twenty times," Sergei said, panting. "How long do you think this record will last?"

Song Xingye nodded, looked around, and saw only barren rocks, devoid of any signs of life. There had never been any human footprints here.

If their team hadn't made it to the location of the return rocket alive, it's likely that no one would have set foot there again for a very long time.

"Yes," he sighed softly, "I guess this record will stand for quite some time."

……

The ancient riverbed they traced eventually merged into a wider channel, and with the continuous influx of tributaries along the way, it eventually formed a dried-up, giant river, comparable to the Mississippi River on Mars.

Covered in thick dust, the riverbed has a texture like dried mud, and is much flatter than the surrounding surface.

The ancient riverbed roughly followed their destination, so they traveled along it, feeling grateful for this natural "highway."

Four days later, the Rock Jumper suddenly and without warning broke down completely.

This time, everyone was at a loss. The mechanical transmission on the right side of the vehicle was completely jammed, and the spare parts on hand were simply insufficient to repair it.

"We're doomed," Sergei muttered to himself, "doomed."

Song Xingye was busy modifying the off-road vehicle. He removed a wheel from the "Rock Jumper" and two aluminum beams from the frame, preparing to attach a simple trailer to the back of the off-road vehicle.

"Don't give up," he said.

Continuing along the riverbed, the view gradually opens up, eventually stretching into a flat plain. As far as the eye can see, only the endless expanse of pale yellow-orange sand remains between heaven and earth. The "Rock Jumper" is overturned on its side, with one side of the pressurized cabin severely deformed.

Although the once indestructible polycarbonate car window had not shattered, it had been squeezed out of its frame and was half buried in the sand. Everyone gathered around Song Xingye, mechanically busy repairing the off-road vehicle, as if as long as they kept working, they could postpone the inevitable tragedy by one more minute.

"Don't fool yourself, I can read a map," Sergei said. "It's still more than 3,000 kilometers to the poles."

"It's too far," Mira agreed. "Even if we were all made of iron, we couldn't get there."

Song Xingye forcefully turned the steering wheel, carefully checked the curvature of the connection, and then reinforced it with three turns of high-strength fiber tape.

"So, we're activating Plan B." He looked up, meeting Sergei's gaze directly. "Actually, we should have changed our route a few days ago; it's just a natural progression now."

"What?" Sergei was taken aback.

"Where did this Plan B come from?" Mira pressed.

Han Jing was even more suspicious: "You never mentioned any alternative plans before."

"Six hundred kilometers," Song Xingye said calmly. "We only need to travel another six hundred kilometers."

"Are you crazy?" Mira blurted out.

"My mind's a bit muddled," Sergei took a deep breath. "You mean, not thousands of kilometers, just a hundred kilometers?"

"More or less," Song Xingye replied.

"You're absolutely insane!" Mira exclaimed, still incredulous. "Six hundred kilometers to the pole is simply impossible!"

"Who said we're going to the extreme point?" Song Xingye retorted. "We're going to Ashidaria. The only way out now is to advance into the Ashidaria Plain."

Han Jing suddenly realized and explained for him: "The Asidaria Plain. Right, once we reach the edge of the Asidaria Plain, where else can we go now?"

"I don't understand what kind of riddles you're talking about," Mira said, looking bewildered. "What are we going there for?"

"The landing site of the Agamemnon."

……

Song Xingye repeatedly instructed that all non-essential items must be left on the "Rock Jumper". However, even with repeated simplification, the necessary supplies still piled up like a mountain. The trailer attached to the off-road vehicle was crammed high, with a volume three times that of the off-road vehicle.

From a distance, it looks just like an ant carrying a heavy load, struggling to drag a giant beetle.

The group began their trek, and the horizon swallowed the view of the plains. The Rock Jumper soon disappeared into the undulating terrain.

As they climbed a small ridge a kilometer away, Sergei couldn't help but look back. The vehicle had almost become a tiny dot on the horizon, lying alone in the sea of ​​sand like an abandoned toy, the only bright and glaring red in this vast wilderness.

He knew that once he turned around, he would never see this scene again in his life. He opened his mouth, but found that he could not say anything.

Song Xingye turned to look at him and urged, "Let's go, Sergei, we need to hurry."

Sergei gave one last deep look, then resolutely turned away, casting his gaze upon the long road ahead.

However, just one day later, the off-road vehicle was also completely destroyed, and they lost their means of transportation, having to rely entirely on their own two legs to move forward.

Forced to recount their supplies, they ruthlessly reduced the weight by 10%, but the remaining equipment was still daunting. There was simply too much to carry: an inertial navigation system, spare parts for spacesuit repairs, vacuum-sealed ration blocks, electrolyte balance fluid for the spacesuit water bags, and a portable living pod.

They stared at the list, checking it over and over again.

"What if we each carry a portion ourselves?" Han Jing suggested.

Song Xingye calculated in his mind: "Each person may be able to carry 30 or 40 kilograms, but the life support backpack that comes with the spacesuit itself weighs 20 kilograms, so the actual extra weight that can be shared is very limited."

"We can carry much more than this," Han Jing retorted. "When I was training on Earth, I carried backpacks that were much heavier than this."

"Perhaps," Song Xingye pondered, "but we can't let the heavy load slow down our march. Traveling light and advancing quickly is the best strategy."

"Mars has much lower gravity than Earth," Han Jing reminded him.

Song Xingye nodded: "It is low, but not as exaggerated as you think, but it is still an advantage."

"This advantage is huge," Han Jing insisted.

"I suggest setting the daily marching target at fifty kilometers," Song Xingye said. "Considering the low-gravity environment, this speed should be feasible."

"To be conservative, 30 kilometers a day," Han Jing estimated. "As long as I don't push myself, it should be fine."

The premise is that they don't overload. Song Xingye thought that as long as there are no further mishaps, at this speed, it would still take them twelve days to reach the landing point of the Agamemnon.

……

Mira was deeply mired in a profound melancholy, an emotion that had been relentlessly grinding against her nerves for days on end, like coarse sandpaper.

Even a light breath felt like a knife cutting into her throat. As soon as she put on her spacesuit, she would drink all the water in her water bottle, sometimes even before stepping out of the inflatable dome of her living quarters, but it was all in vain.

She couldn't make a sound, and occasionally she could only manage to squeeze out a faint, hoarse sound from deep in her throat.

However, others did not seem to notice anything unusual about her.

She trudged across the Martian surface like a zombie, her gaze vacantly sweeping over the surrounding scenery, even deliberately refusing to think. Ah, if only she could stop thinking altogether!

How easy it would be if she were completely oblivious to everything that was happening, walking numbly like a prosthetic limb, with no past and no future.

Sometimes, she would deceive herself, telling herself that she was already dead, but deep within her heart lurked a beast born of fear—a ferocious beast with fangs, its scarlet eyes gleaming with resentment, constantly growling in a low voice: No, I cannot die. No matter the cost, I must live. Others may die, but never me, never, never, never, never me.

She wondered to herself why others always seemed oblivious. Why didn't they flee in terror? Why did they stubbornly treat her as a civilized person, instead of a frantic rat cornered in a desperate situation?

She must survive.

Mira trudged through the Martian wasteland, abandoning thought and stripping away her senses, gritting her teeth to endure the excruciating pain in her throat and the agony that felt like claws tearing at her heart. At that moment, only one thought remained in her mind: to survive.

The surrounding terrain became increasingly rugged and broken.

As they continued to advance, the wind intensified, and the scene before them became extremely bizarre. Sergei could hear the howling wind and the sharp, piercing whistling sound, which even made his ears ring, but he could not feel the touch of the wind at all.

Love science fiction? Come discover more exciting content!