The dozens of scientists in the laboratory lost all track of time. They were completely absorbed in the next critical phase: synthesizing a permanent vaccine for the Martian virus.
Soon after, the massive reserve team of two hundred scientists was officially mobilized. With the immediate crisis stabilized, there was no longer a need to hold personnel back in quarantine. The full intellectual weight of the expedition was now focused on vaccine development.
Once a vaccine was successfully deployed, humanity would have definitively conquered the Martian pathogen. The fear of infection would be gone forever.
However, achieving this required cross-referencing vast amounts of data, gene sequencing, protein folding simulations, and extensive biological trials. It was a painstaking process that would likely take one to two months to complete.
....
Aboard The Noah, thousands of civilians crowded around the ship's massive observation windows, staring blankly out at the fiery red planet. Mars was not the benevolent, silent world they had imagined.
The mood on the ship was tense and restless. From the sudden outbreak of the virus to the desperate sacrifices of the scientific vanguard, and finally, to the grim reality of actual casualties, the populace had been pushed to the brink.
But because they had been promised the dawn of victory, their anxiety had morphed into a desperate, gnawing impatience.
Since the brief emergency broadcast hours ago, few had been able to focus on their assigned duties. Every hour felt like a lifetime.
Aside from that one fleeting announcement, there had been total radio silence regarding the Martian virus. Occasional rumors rippled through the decks, but their credibility was low. Everyone was on edge, desperate for a concrete update.
Time crawled by, minute by agonizing minute. Finally, the ship's clock struck 19:00 hours. It was time for the official evening broadcast.
"Good evening, citizens of the Federation. This is your evening news update." The familiar, steady voice of the lead anchor echoed through the ship's PA system.
"It's on! The evening broadcast is starting!"
"Quiet down, listen to the news!" Shouts echoed through the corridors of The Noah as people scrambled toward the nearest screens.
The female anchor appeared on the monitors, dressed sharply in her standard uniform. But today, her usual stoic expression was replaced by a radiant, irrepressible smile. She spoke rapidly, her excitement palpable:
"We have official confirmation. As of 16:30 hours today, the first patient critically infected with the Martian virus has regained consciousness. The vast majority of those infected are showing rapid, sustained improvement. Our scientific teams successfully synthesized and administered a highly effective antiviral serum..."
"YES!"
"Victory!"
"We won!"
In an instant, the ship erupted. The cheers formed a tidal wave of pure joy. The collective psyche of the survivors had been compressed for too long; the release was like a drowning man breaking the surface and inhaling his first breath of air.
This was the ecstasy of a long-awaited salvation. Defeating an alien pathogen on their very first stop, what an incredibly difficult, monumental feat.
Many of the civilians knew they lacked the skills to fight the virus directly. Their only role had been to work silently in the rear, to keep the ship running, and to pray without giving into panic. It was the only way they could support the frontline personnel.
Rumors had even circulated that Captain Jason himself had entered the quarantine zone to fight the battle, though the truth of those whispers remained unconfirmed.
But the psychological burden had been suffocating. As long as the virus remained undefeated, the Sword hung directly over their heads.
But now, the news of victory had finally arrived. The anxiety evaporated, replaced by overwhelming relief. How could they not celebrate?
After an indeterminate amount of time, Jason finally forced his eyes open. A splitting headache immediately assaulted him.
He blinked, taking in his surroundings. The medical suite was empty save for a single nurse monitoring his vitals. All the heavy diagnostic machinery had been disconnected, though an IV drip of saline was still attached to his arm.
He forced himself to sit up, feeling incredibly weak and drained.
"Captain! You're awake!" The nurse gasped in surprise, rushing to his side. "Ah, please be careful. You had a massive volume of blood drawn. You need to rest."
"Did we..." Jason croaked, his throat raw and hoarse.
"Yes! The scientists used your blood to isolate the antibodies and synthesize a serum. It's incredibly effective!" The nurse anticipated his question and answered immediately.
"In total..." Jason swallowed hard, ignoring the comments about his own health to ask the only question that mattered. "How many people did we lose?"
He felt a spike of dread, terrified of hearing a catastrophic number. He glanced at the wall clock; he had been unconscious for at least three days. A lot could go wrong in three days.
At his question, the nurse's bright expression instantly dimmed. Her voice dropped. "In total... we lost 23 citizens to the Martian virus. However, the outbreak is now entirely under control, and the surviving critical patients are already recovering."
"Twenty-three..." Jason rubbed his throbbing temples and exhaled a long, heavy sigh. The number perfectly matched his grim estimate.
In that dark psychic space, he had watched exactly 23 stars wink out of existence. Twenty-three human souls had departed. It confirmed that the starry sky he had witnessed was not a hallucination, but a genuine manifestation of reality.
Twenty-three people. Some were ordinary workers; some were brilliant researchers who had rushed in to save them. They had fallen at the very first stop beneath the stars. A deep melancholy settled over him.
"What is the current status of the ward?" Jason asked, forcing himself to focus.
"About one-third of the comatose patients have woken up after receiving the antibody serum. The rest are still unconscious, but their vitals are stabilizing. The doctors assure us the danger has passed. Once their systems are fully cleared of the pathogen, they'll be discharged."
The nurse fidgeted, clearly nervous about having a one-on-one conversation with the Captain. "This... this is all thanks to your serum, sir. They had to draw so, so much blood..."
Jason didn't respond. His mood had plummeted.
If I had stepped forward earlier, maybe they wouldn't have died...
The thought bubbled up, dark and heavy, but he immediately crushed it. He couldn't afford to blame himself. He had truly done everything he could. The moment the idea of using his Superhuman physiology occurred to him, he had acted. He was a leader, but he was not a god; he couldn't play nanny to the entire human race. He couldn't save everyone.
Humanity as a whole had done its absolute best. Their response to an unprecedented alien threat had been exemplary.
Perhaps sacrifices like this were simply the toll the universe demanded. Without these harsh lessons, humanity would never mature enough to survive the dark forest of space.
When they landed on the next planet, they would undoubtedly be far more cautious.
It was a logical justification, but death is rarely comforted by logic.
Twenty-three people represented roughly 0.05% of their total population. It was a devastating blow. Jason's heart ached for them, but as Captain, he had no choice but to shoulder the grief and carry on.
....
Two weeks later
The final patients had fully recovered and been discharged.
A grand, somber funeral ceremony was organized on the Martian surface. Jason, fully recovered, stood at the podium.
The bodies of the 23 heroes had been cremated. Their ashes were placed in reinforced titanium urns and prepared for burial deep beneath the red soil.
"Citizens of the Federation," Jason began, his voice echoing across the silent crowd and broadcasting live throughout the ship.
"Today, we honor the 23 heroes who fell on Mars. Among them were brilliant doctors, dedicated researchers, and brave members of the vanguard expedition team. They are the first to lay down their lives at our first stop beneath the stars..."
A low murmur of suppressed sobs rippled through the crowd. Many bowed their heads, quietly wiping away tears.
"A cold body cannot feel warmth; no matter how many words of praise we offer, they can no longer hear them. Death is the absolute end of their physical journey. But their spirit... their spirit will live on within this fleet forever."
"Their courage is the greatest pride of our civilization. Let us observe five minutes of silence for the fallen."
Jason bowed his head.
Across the surface of Mars and throughout the decks of The Noah, complete silence descended. The only sound was the soft, muffled weeping of the bereaved.
Initially, the news of the cure had brought euphoria. But as the adrenaline faded, the reality of the cost set in. Twenty-three of their compatriots were gone. Friends, family, and colleagues, now buried on an alien world, never to return.
When the five minutes passed, heavy machinery rumbled to life. The titanium urns were lowered into the deep vault.
Above the vault, a massive obelisk was erected. Forged from the Federation's strongest composite alloys, it was designed to withstand the harsh Martian environment for billions of years. Etched into the metal were the names of the 23 fallen heroes.
"Let history forever record their names," Jason said softly. "Johnny, Charlie Weiss, Depak, Li Zhi..... Rest in peace, brothers and sisters."
He looked up at the crowd, his expression hardening with resolve.
"The dead are gone. It is the duty of the living to survive, to thrive, and to find happiness. We must inherit their unfulfilled ideals and carry the finest spirit of humanity forward into the dark."
Following the speech, the commendation ceremony began. The families of the deceased, alongside the frontline researchers, medical staff, and security personnel who had risked their lives, were formally recognized. They received substantial bonuses in Credits and priority housing selections.
No one contested the rewards. They had truly held the line against extinction, and they deserved every honor given.
Now, it was time to put the tragedy behind them and aggressively advance their technology.