The rover groaned as Harlan fought to right it, its frame still scarred from the quake. Dust clung to their suits in thick layers, dulling the sheen of their visors. The canyon was silent now, too silent, as though it had swallowed the pulse back into its depths.
Marlowe's voice cut through comms, steady but edged. "Everyone mount up. We're returning to Artemis IX. I'll relay findings to Command once we establish a stable link."
Selene hesitated, glancing at her flickering console. The readings hadn't vanished completely. Deep beneath the crust, faint traces of energy still pulsed, irregular but alive. "Captain, with respect, if we leave now, we lose the anomaly. This data is unstable. It might never surface again."
"Our orders are clear," Marlowe snapped. "We catalog, we report. Command decides the next step."
Elara's voice was low, dangerous. "By the time Command debates, this trail will be gone. You saw it. You felt it. That wasn't geology. That was… presence."
Darius shifted uneasily in the back seat. He wanted to speak, to ask what exactly they had seen in that light—but the weight of their voices held him still.
Harlan chuckled dryly, breaking the tension. "Figures. First time we hit something worth the trip, and we're supposed to turn tail and let a committee poke at it from Earth. Sounds thrilling."
Marlowe's visor snapped toward him. "This isn't a democracy."
"No," Elara said sharply, stepping forward. "But it is a mission. And missions adapt. You of all people should know that."
For a moment, silence filled the channel, broken only by the faint hum of the rover's engines.
Marlowe exhaled slowly, the sound static through comms. "We don't go digging into unknowns without backup. That's how crews vanish."
"But Captain…" Selene's voice softened. "What if this is what we came for? Every instinct tells me this anomaly isn't just geology. It's… deliberate."
The canyon floor trembled faintly, almost mockingly, as if agreeing with her words.
Darius's breath caught. He looked at the fissure one last time. Was it his imagination, or did faint blue light still pulse far beneath, like embers refusing to die?
Marlowe finally raised his hand, a signal to hold. "One hour. No more. We log data from the fissure perimeter, nothing deeper. If there's no repeat signature, we return to Artemis IX. That's final."
Harlan muttered something that might have been agreement—or defiance.
Elara's visor tilted toward the darkness below. "One hour," she repeated, though her voice carried an unspoken promise. If Mars offers more, I will not walk away.
The rover rolled closer to the fissure, its lights piercing the shadows. Instruments flickered, catching faint whispers of energy again. The heartbeat wasn't gone—it was waiting.
And deep within the canyon's scar, something shifted.