Sol's Ladder: Sol's Ladder, #1

Sol's Ladder

The First Rung

N. J. Glemboski

N. J. Glemboski

Copyright © 2025 by N. J. Glemboski

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact at website below.

ISBN: 9798230156130 (Print)

ISBN: 9798230048602 (E-book)

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by N. J. Glemboski

Illustrations by N. J. Glemboski

First edition 2025

www.nathanglemboski.com

For my children. I pray you learn to lean into the kind of pain that goes hand in hand with a life of adventure.

Contents

Prologue

1.Down and Out

2.Need a Lift?

3.Welcome to Naug

4.Martian Suite

5.Three Lever Breakfast

6.Cigar Sight

7.The Robotanist

8.Turtle Suit

9.Virtual Exorcism

10.Swords to Plowshares

11.No Good Deed

12.A Glimmer in the Dark

13.Go No Go

14.Aerial Spelunking

15.Lean Into the Pain

16.Crop Circles

17.An Unexpected Trade

18.Three Ladders

19.Verdict

20.Beggar's Canyon

21.A Favor

22.A Second Eden

23.A Bubble in Time

24.Served Cold

25.In the Dark

26.Cairn

27.Lost and Gone

28.Earth Rise Day

29.Read. Set.

30.Gone

31.Death and Suspicion

32.Boulder

33.Hack

34.Let It Go

35.Pointless

36.Crawling Out the Window

37.Into the Dark

38.The Impossible Room

39.How Long Can You Hold Your Breath?

40.Fallout

41.Delinquent

42.A Taste of Mars

43.Eye of the Beholder

44.Lab Rat

45.Super Spy

46.Inside Downside

47.Blink of an Eye

48.Alien Addict

49.Unen

50.Bubble Burst

51.Hope for the Best. Prepare for the Worst.

52.Virtual Presence

53.Virtual Mayhem

54.Virtual Judas

55.Exit Strategy

56.Hot Pursuit

57.Martian Whalers

58.From the Frying Pan

59.Into the Fire

60.That Crazy Mongolian

61.Fly and Fall

62.Inside

63.The Next Rung

Epilogue

Afterword

About the author

Cover Concepts Bonus

Prologue

Zed Marsh stared into the mirror, waiting for the woman to appear on the other side. He pushed at a lock of his ample, curly hair that had fallen across his forehead.

His mother, Ana Marsh, noticed his fidgeting and turned toward him with a frown. She adjusted the collar of his crimson shirt without comment.

Zed’s father, Ed Marsh, shifted in his seat to his son’s right and cleared his throat.

Ana shot a glance his way. Ed noticed it and became still.

At that moment, their reflections disappeared, and a striking middle-aged woman in ripped jeans and a suit vest materialized on the other side. The Marshes found themselves looking through a digital window into an immaculate studio.

Zed recognized the woman instantly. Di was one of the most popular news and entertainment streamers around. Zed didn’t follow current events closely, but even he was struck by the surreal feeling one gets in the presence of a celebrity.

To Di’s left, Zed could see a studio audience of several hundred people and felt nauseous. He knew he was just looking through a glorified 3D screen, but his sudden stage fright felt very real.

Ladies and gentlemen, give my next guests a warm round of applause and welcome to our studio, the Martians… I mean, the Marshes!

The audience dutifully laughed and applauded as Di flopped down on the loveseat next to another woman whom Zed didn’t recognize.

Now, as you can see, the Marshes are here with us remotely.

Zed knew that to the audience and Di, it looked as if they were sitting on a couch in the studio, their bodies fading away below the waist.

Dr. Marsh, can you tell us why we’re unable to enjoy your actual presence this evening?

Zed’s mother straightened and raised her chin, the way she did whenever she gave Zed a lecture in response to a question.

Well, as you can imagine, we have to be extremely careful about the stowaways we carry with us on a trip like the one we’re about to make. If we were to bring a disease with us that we didn’t have supplies on hand to treat, the results could be devastating for the colony.

Di leaned in, half-turning toward the audience. So, like, if you got bitten by a zombie at T minus 6, that would be a problem, I take it?

Zed’s mother blinked twice and gave a closed-lipped smile.

Yes, definitely not what we’re hoping for, she said.

Now, before I get to this young man between you, let me ask you this, Ed, Di leaned in as if sharing a secret. Is it true that you will be working on the systems that, well, turn feces into food?

The audience laughed, but Zed could see them leaning in, genuinely curious to hear his answer.

That is correct, Di. We’ve come a long way on Mars, but using every resource available will always be important, especially as the colony tries to be as self-sufficient as possible. Nothing gets wasted, even our waste. Every little shi—uh—bit helps, right?

Di bobbed her head as the audience clapped.

Well, Ed, I’m glad to know that at least I would have one thing to contribute.

Di jumped off the couch and knelt in front of Zed’s projection as if he were a small child.

Zed, Zed, Zed. Can you believe that in just a few short months, you will be standing on another planet? How does it feel to know you’re about to be the youngest person to ever set foot on Mars? Di asked earnestly.

The audience broke out into sustained applause.

Zed felt a rush of heat in his face. Why in the world had he agreed to do this? He could barely get through giving a speech in a small class setting. Why did he think he would be okay saying anything at all with a few hundred eyes staring at him from the audience and millions more from the cameras? He’d hoped the remote interview would feel disconnected enough to avoid the twisting knot that was starting to form in his gut, but the immersion of the telepresence mirror was doing its job a little too well.

Uh, cool, I guess, Zed half-mumbled. He wasn’t trying to mumble; he just found that his lips had turned to stiff rubber the moment he needed them.

The audience chuckled as Di raised an eyebrow.

If going to Mars is ‘cool,’ Di gave an exaggerated shrug, then I’d like to see what it would take to really blow your socks off.

Zed gave a crooked half-smile.

No, I get that it’s a big deal and all. It’s just been the goal for so long. With all the training and work my parents have put in for years to get to this point, it just feels kind of normal now that it’s here, ya know?

Di nodded sympathetically.

Well, you might see it as normal, but I wouldn’t sell yourself short if I were you. ‘Hi, I’m Zed, the youngest person to set foot on Mars’ seems like it’d make a pretty decent pick-up line, no?

Zed smiled and looked down at his hands.

Can’t say I’ve tried that, but I’ll take your word for it.

Di continued, While you will be the youngest, you won’t be the only teen, correct?

Zed nodded and smiled weakly, happy to have an excuse to talk about something other than himself.

Yeah, Miranda and George Ens will be making the trip with us, thankfully.

Happy to not be the only kid on the planet, I take it?

Zed shuddered at the thought. With all the moving he’d done growing up, making friends had been nearly impossible. Miranda and George’s father, Jacob, had been on the same training track as his parents. That meant that for the last few years, he’d had two friends who were more or less always around and could relate to him more than the random kids at the dozen or so different schools he’d attended over the years.

Yeah, the thought of being stuck on a planet with nothing but other adults is… Zed scrunched his nose in disgust.

Di put a hand on her heart in solidarity.

On the downside, though, if there’s any mischief in Inauguration, I’m guessing you three will forever be the chief suspects.

Zed smiled and shrugged in agreement.

I actually have someone here who wanted to meet you, Zed.

Di gestured to the woman beside her on the couch. Zed realized he was so inward-focused and nervous about the audience that he hadn’t actually taken a good look at her.

She appeared to be in her mid-fifties, maybe sixties, with pale skin and a buzzed head covered with a quarter-inch of gray stubble. The black suit she wore had the slightest hint of a blue shine. To Zed, it felt somehow retro, like the kind of style he might have seen in a period piece movie set at the turn of the last century.

Marshes, while her face isn’t familiar to most, I’m sure her name needs no introduction. I’d like you to meet Jarra Gunnardóttir.

The three of them sat in stunned silence for a moment. There wasn’t a person alive who didn’t know the name, but that face had changed somewhat since the last time anyone had seen her publicly.

Di continued with enthusiasm.

We’ve been so incredibly honored to have you on, Jarra. Thank you again for the privilege of choosing our humble show for your first interview in, what, twenty years?

Jarra bobbed her head as if weighing her words carefully.

Not at all, Di, she said in a surprisingly soft voice that held just a hint of an accent. She turned her gaze to the Marshes and focused on Zed.

He had never more clearly understood the old idiom about a deer caught in headlights. Jarra’s freakishly pale blue eyes felt like they were scanning his soul. Zed tried not to squirm.

If Di was a celebrity, Jarra was closer to a figure straight out of legend. She had more or less saved the world with her tech and then vanished from the spotlight, content to run her business empire from the seclusion of her home in Iceland.

I’d like to take just a moment, Jarra, on behalf of myself and everyone watching, to thank you for your work and contributions to humanity during the Three Hell Thirties. I know I wouldn’t be here today if not for you. Your medical advancements saved my mother when she was infected with the Wormwood virus before I was even born.

Zed thought Di might tear up for a second, but her quivering smile quickly returned to its usual radiance.

Enough about the past! Jarra, what does the future look like for the Marshes? I know you’ve developed a significant portion of the tech that allows a colony on Mars to exist, right down to the radiation meds that enable someone like young Zed here to make the trip with minimal risk.

Jarra glanced at Di, but her eyes quickly returned to Zed as she spoke.

The colony of Inauguration is, quite simply, the culmination of my life’s work. As you alluded to before, the Three Hells taught us all a valuable lesson about the fragility of our species. Inauguration is our first real hope of finding the next rung on the ladder to the cosmos.

As Jarra spoke, her words built in excitement and energy, and she became more still, like a calm before the storm.

Yes, I’ve heard rumblings you talk about this in the book you’re about to release, correct?

Jarra nodded at Di. Di continued.

But I also heard that you believe that aliens or some power left us, uh, breadcrumbs to the stars. Some kind of trail for humanity to follow?

Di said this in her lighthearted way, but Zed could see some hesitation in her body language.

Jarra nodded again.

That is more or less correct. Much like the tree in the Garden of Eden was meant to elevate Homo sapiens, I believe similar places exist. Places of progress that will give us just what we need to take our next steps—more rungs on a ladder to the stars, if you will.

Di gave an awkward chuckle.

Which tree are you referring to, Jarra? The tree of life or the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?

The audience joined in with a smattering of uncertain laughter.

Jarra smiled but didn’t respond. She instead gestured to Zed with both arms, palms up, like someone holding their arms out to a child who is taking their first tentative steps.

The boy here represents an important part of humanity’s journey forward. I am pleased to see this day come. Godspeed, Zed.

Uh, thanks, was all Zed’s dry mouth managed to mumble.

Di stood and turned toward the audience. She cleared her throat and sped through her words, anxious to move the conversation along.

Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for our stream today, folks. My thanks to Jarra and the Marshes for taking the time to be with us. Remember, you can watch live tomorrow as Zed and his family launch on their long road trip to the red planet. If you think your family has a tough time with road trips, imagine one that lasts months! I’m Di, and you’ve been a lovely audience. Good night!

Di, Jarra, and the audience faded until Zed was once again looking at his reflection in the mirror.

His parents did what they always did after any kind of social engagement: They started bickering. Whatever the point of contention was tonight, Zed wasn’t sure. He just sat there, lost in his own stunned thoughts.

He couldn’t have imagined that anything could consume his thoughts more than the launch tomorrow. Then again, he never imagined in his most self-aggrandizing fantasies that he’d actually have a conversation with Jarra Gunnardóttir!

Sure, the bit about magic trees and ladders to space was a bit odd, but hey, she’d pretty much saved the human race, so she was entitled to a few trillionaire eccentricities.

Zed made his way to the bed in what was his room for the week. He flung a quiet, Good night, in his parents' general direction. It went unanswered. Some people used white noise machines to fall asleep. Zed’s white noise was the muffled sound of his parents’ angry voices humming through the walls.

Tonight, it didn’t matter. All the years of sacrifice they’d made, all the moving, all the missed opportunities would finally pay off tomorrow. Tomorrow, life could finally start, even if it was on Mars. Zed had to believe that.

Chapter one

Down and Out

If there was one good thing about being crammed into a tin can with a bunch of other colonists, it was the short reprieve Zed had gotten from his parents fighting. Privacy being what it was, they couldn’t have a shouting match without the whole ship hearing it, so they did whatever they had to in order to bottle it up. Whatever their issues, apparently, their pride was stronger.

Zed hoped that maybe the habit might stick once they reached the colony. His hopes were not high.

The trip had been mercifully uneventful. Twenty colonists and two pilots—or babysitters, as they were affectionately called—had docked with The Attic two days ago.

The Attic was the way station that every pilgrim to Mars passed through before making their descent to the rusty landscape below.

The ships that traversed the space between Earth and Mars weren’t built to touch down on either world. A small fleet of four landers would take the Marshes and their fellow passengers on the final leg of their journey.

Zed thought The Attic itself had a bit of a haunted house vibe to it. There were no permanent living quarters as such. It was really just meant for transfers and resupplies. Like the ship that had brought them here, every conceivable system was automated. The landers could be summoned to the ground and relaunched without the need for a skilled pilot or for any human to be present at all.

When the decision had been made to allow groups of colonists to start making their way out into the solar system, it had become clear that making everything idiot-proof was the top priority. This meant making the job of traveling through space require as few interactions with vital systems as possible.

The babysitters really were just that. Unless something went horribly wrong, there was no need for them to do any real piloting at all.

Zed found this reassuring but also a little sad. The reality was a bit more sterile than the stories of the first explorers he’d grown up on. He wondered how someone like Thabisa Jones felt about someone like him getting to Mars on autopilot when she and her crewmates had gone through hell to set that first boot on the red planet.

Space was still a horrifyingly dangerous place, but if things were going to go wrong, the engineers on Earth had done their best to ensure that it wasn’t human error that triggered a master alarm.

Zed made his way through the stark tunnels that comprised the interior of The Attic. He passed a row of closely set doors that he recognized as the inflatable bulb escape pods he’d been taught how to use during the pre-launch training.

For a moment, he had a dangerous impulse—the kind you get standing on the edge of a cliff, wanting to throw yourself off because you could, or to press your hand to a hot stove.

In this instance, he imagined how simple it would be to start the emergency launch sequence, inflate the pod, and hurl himself down to Mars before anyone could stop him. He’d easily beat out Miranda and George for the title of first teen on Mars.

There you are! Miranda shouted at Zed as she drifted down through a hatch overhead.

He stammered a greeting, as if caught in the middle of something questionable.

She gave him a curious look but didn’t inquire further.

Come on, we’re gonna miss out on the good seats. George is trying to hold a few on the lander’s upper level. The babysitters said that’s where the best landing views are. Fingers crossed for a real show! Move your ass, Marsh!

She spun in mid-air and pulled herself back through the hatch, her flowing platinum blond hair giving her movements a ghostlike quality that matched The Attic’s haunted nature.

Zed hurried after Miranda, struggling to keep up. In spite of months in space, he’d never quite gotten the hang of free fall. Miranda, on the other hand, moved as if she’d been born in orbit. In short order, they arrived at the ship that would take them to their new home.

This lander’s interior was almost entirely filled with flight couches. The colonists’ stowed items and supplies would be loaded into one of the other landers that had an empty cargo layout.

Miranda’s twin, George, was waiting for them at the entrance. He swore at them.

Took you long enough. Thought I was gonna have to start throwing punches to keep our seats.

He gestured for them to follow him. They floated past other colonists who were making their way into the lander. A few of them gave George looks of annoyance.

Zed had no doubt that more than a few of their fellow travelers would be happy to not have to share the same tiny living space with the less mature of the Ens twins. George was a good kid, as they say, but he could also be a lot, especially when he’d been cooped up for months.

George led them to the upper level of the lander. There were fewer seats up here, but larger windows.

You guys ready for a fireworks show? George said, rubbing his hands as if he planned to start a fire right then and there.

Don’t say fireworks, Miranda said. Fireworks blow up. I’ll be happy with some sparks and a safe touchdown.

As the three of them strapped in, an Asian man in his mid-sixties emerged from the hatch below.

Hey, Baat! Zed called. You started praying yet?

Baat was to be Inauguration’s first chaplain. Or, if you weren’t religious, he could also serve as a therapist or morale officer. Zed wasn’t sure what exactly any of that entailed, but he got the impression Baat was there to keep people from losing their minds.

Besides the Ens twins, Baat was the only other person on board that Zed considered a real friend. Zed was used to making friends with adults to a certain degree. He’d spent far more time around adults than children his own age growing up. Miranda and George were actually his longest-running in-person friendships, and he’d only known them for a couple of years.

With Baat, it was different, though. Zed found he had an easier time consulting the graying Mongolian on things that felt too heavy or serious to drop in casual conversation with Miranda or George, especially George. If anything remotely serious came up in conversation, George saw it as an excuse to crank up his already considerable immaturity to the max.

While he didn’t hang out with Baat just for fun that often, it was nice having someone he respected and didn’t fear. He felt a twinge of guilt that this description didn’t for a second make him think of his own parents, but the thought of opening up to them created a far deeper sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach than dropping to the planet below ever could.

Baat buckled himself in across from the three teens.

Young man, we've been living in a series of tin cans with instant death lurking behind every wall and window. I never stop praying.

George tightened his harness. Zed had long suspected that for all his bluster, George would be the most relieved of them all to have his feet on solid ground again. Though in reality, being on Mars wasn’t any less dangerous.

So, Baat said, which one of you will be first?

Zed and the twins exchanged glances. They knew that by first, Baat meant first teen on Mars.

It’s gonna be me, George said, with a satisfied sigh.

We drew straws, and my little brother won.

Forty-five seconds younger. It barely counts.

Baat smiled. Well, I’m glad you found a civilized way to decide. I was afraid that the moment we touched down I’d be trampled in your frenzy to get to the hatch first.

Final call before separation, came the voice of one of the babysitters over the intercom. Check your harness and don your helmets. As soon as we get a green light from all your flight suits, we’ll start our descent.

Zed took the simple, clear bubble of a helmet that he’d been holding on his lap and pulled it over his head, being careful to check and recheck the fit and seal. They hadn’t started moving yet, but as he heard the locks that held the lander to the station start cycling, his heart rate climbed in anticipation.

It reminded him of an old roller coaster he’d ridden once at a fair. It was the only fair he’d ever had the chance to go to, and his nine-year-old self had been determined to make the most of it. The memory that stuck in his mind hadn’t been the roller coaster itself but the clink clink clink sound the cars had made as they were pulled up that first hill. He’d started with no fear, but by the time he’d reached the top, his stomach had turned in on itself and ended up squeezing all the fried food he’d eaten right out of him and all over the helpless passengers behind him as they plummeted over that first drop.

He sincerely hoped history did not repeat itself. Vomiting with a fishbowl over your head was not a good look.

He glanced at Baat, who gave him a reassuring thumbs-up.

The lander pulled away from the Attic and rotated. Mars spun out of sight, giving way to a view of the way station as it appeared to drift off into the blackness.

As the minutes ticked by, the station passed out of sight and was replaced by showers of sparks as they entered Mars’s thin atmosphere. Thin though it was, the lander still required shielding to keep it from burning up at high speed.

Zed didn’t dare glance at the twins to see how they were handling things for fear of what they might see on his face. No matter how many times he reminded himself that this was just routine, there was nothing about falling from the sky in a ball of fire that felt normal.

The vibration of the landing rockets firing made Zed’s vision go blurry. He found himself pressed down into his seat. It felt as if the lander had decided it didn’t want to land after all and was going to try to blast itself back the way they had come.

After months in microgravity, the forces of this landing felt so much more intense than the launch from Earth.

Zed closed his eyes and tried to imagine the forces buffeting his body were coming from that roller coaster ride. For a moment, it made things more bearable, but then, as it had on that ride so many years ago, Zed’s last meal decided to make an unscheduled reemergence.

This timed out perfectly with the lander’s touchdown, giving the half-digested food in Zed’s helmet maximum splatter. Zed didn’t know if anyone had seen or noticed because all he could see was a panorama of the contents of his stomach.

The moment he heard touchdown announced, he tore off his helmet, gasping for a breath of fresh air.

Zed was so focused on catching his breath untainted by the burn of stomach acid that he forgot he was no longer in space and was, in fact, once more on the surface of a planet with gravity. Considerably less gravity than he’d known on Earth, but gravity all the same. So, as he tossed his helmet off, instead of drifting up to the ceiling as it would have an hour ago, it flew in a lovely arc over his head, only to finish its arc by smashing into the head it had moments earlier been protecting.

There was a sudden bustle of activity that Zed couldn’t quite track. He felt more than a little stunned but was keenly aware of a burning sensation over his left eyebrow and the fact that he could only see out of his right eye.

Then Baat was standing over him. He unstrapped Zed and helped him to his unsteady feet.

The rest was a bit of a blur: Baat helping him to the hatch to wait for the docking procedure to finish, his father speaking to Baat and asking what he’d done now, and moving down the long tunnel to the central hub where strangers greeted them in far-off voices and whisked them to a side room.

Zed came to full awareness as his mother shoved a needle into his eyebrow.

Chapter two

Need a Lift?

H old still!

Zed blinked at a machine-gun pace. His left eyebrow was on fire. Tears broke free, though he wasn’t really sure if he was actually crying or if it was just an involuntary reaction.

Ana Marsh was leaning over Zed. He seemed to be on some sort of table but didn’t dare move his head to look around the room.

Better?

Zed could tell from her inconvenienced tone that it was very much a rhetorical question. The pain above his eye faded as if it were seeping out with his tears.

The lidocaine should be taking effect. Now hold still so I can get this stitched up.

Zed only blinked, his head clearing as the pain subsided. This had to be the most embarrassing and painful way anyone had started their first day on Mars.

That was an impressive feat of bad luck, kid.

Zed didn’t recognize the speaker’s deep voice and mild southern drawl. He started to turn his head only to have it quickly jerked back into place.

Sorry, said the voice. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Jonah Gruene, one of the grease monkeys of Naug. I do a bit of everything but mostly keep the Monstros and Chariots rolling. Those are the two main vehicle types we use around here. The Chariots are a bit like a fancy tricycle you stand on that has its wheels on the ends of robotic arms. Not to brag, but I’m a pretty good Chariot rider myself. I’ve even won a few Earth Day prizes.

Zed was well aware of the amazing machines Jonah had mentioned, but Jonah had so much enthusiasm it felt cruel to interrupt. To be fair, Zed wasn't exactly a great student. He'd forgotten more about what awaited him here than he cared to admit, but a robotic chariot? No teenage boy could help but become just a little obsessed with the concept, even if he had no clue how you were actually supposed to drive one.

Once your mom has you stitched up, you’ll get to ride in the belly of one of the Monstros!

Jonah’s enthusiasm for these vehicles was evident.

Now the Chariots are agile, sure, but a Monstro, well, they’re just beautiful. They can haul a ridiculous amount of cargo and drive through the worst terrain Mars has to throw at us. They’re not fast, but they are unstoppable.

Ana Marsh seemed to be getting annoyed with Jonah’s enraptured descriptions of the vehicles he maintained. Unfortunately for Zed, this meant she was stitching his brow at a frightening speed.

There, done.

She stood and hurried to repack the emergency medical kit.

Mr. Gruene, if you’d be so kind, I think we’re more than ready to get out of here. I’m sure we’ve missed any festivities at this point, but that can’t be helped.

Jonah smiled warmly. Zed wasn’t sure if he was ignoring his mother’s curt tone or simply blind to it.

Absolutely, Mrs. Marsh!

Jonah held the o in absolutely for an intentional mispronunciation that Zed knew would make his mother cringe, and Zed loved him for it.

Twisting with care, Zed set his feet on the floor and looked around to get his first glimpse of Jonah. Jonah looked more or less like he sounded. He was somewhat heavyset—at least in comparison to the average astronaut—with a blond mustache and a skullet. At least Zed was pretty sure that’s what you called it when someone let their hair grow out in the back as their crown went bald.

Jonah hurried over and helped Zed stand.

Come on, kid, let’s get you your first look at Mars proper. There’s no better view than from the cockpit of the beast!

Jonah was right. As the landscape stretched for miles before them, Zed watched in unblinking awe. Part of him had worried that after all the years of preparation and being dragged around the world to chase his parents' plans and dreams, this moment would lack any real punch. He was thankful to be wrong.

No matter how many pictures he’d seen or virtual vistas he’d explored, nothing could compare to looking out at the surface of a new world with his own eyes.

It surprised Zed just how much color painted the surface of the red planet. You could certainly find the expected strokes of rust, but there was so much more. There were shades of tan and brown, with grays that turned almost blue. Perhaps most surprising of all was the fact that the sky itself was blue. Certainly not a blue like one would expect to see on Earth, but not the empty black horizon that mankind had looked up into after taking their first steps on the moon.

The landscape itself was a thing of sculpted beauty. Wind-worn yardangs emerged from the sand, directing the flow of the dunes that washed up against them like waves in a waterless sea.

Jonah and Zed sat side by side in the cockpit of the Monstro. Zed hadn’t gotten a good look at the outside of the massive vehicle, but the whale-like features that the name had implied were