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He stood in front of the door for a moment. So much effort had gone into this moment, and yet, only a half-dozen years before, he had been firmly committed to a so-called career in a dead-end job.

Times change.

He pressed the scanner, which recognized his thumbprint, and opened the door.

“Elevator Maintenance” That’s what the label said. Inside, special elevator cars stood ready. These had two unusual functions.

One was the ability to use on-board power to move through the tubular network of elevator runs without needing to draw power from the system.

How else could one go to a disabled unit and retrieve the hapless passengers?

The second function was even less likely to be used. It allowed the rescue elevator car to remove the air from the car with powerful pumps.

It was, in effect, an airlock.

A convenient way to commit suicide, if that were your intent.

That was not his intent.

Carefully, he began donning the excursion suit. This was a simple hard vacuum hard-suit, with extra fabric coverings. A machine with clothes.

The fabrics would protect the suit from abrasive and invasive grit and fine dust, and it could be laundered like any regular clothing. Since it was worn on the outside of the spacesuit, it did not have to hold atmosphere.

He checked the suit-systems. Power, eutectic heat system, oxygen, carbon dioxide scrubbers, humidity control, communications, location monitors, emergency beacons, ...

It was a long list, but it was worthwhile to be patient. It had taken many months just getting here. The preparation time before that was even longer. And the dream had been growing for a lifetime.

He stepped into the elevator and programmed his destination. Along the way, he watched the suit gauges displaying the constantly reducing outside pressure as the pumps removed air from his spherical chamber.

The eyelid door opened, and he looked out into a cargo loading dock. Walking over to the control station, he activated the bay doors.

This room was at the same minimal atmospheric pressure as the planet outside. The doors swung open easily.

He stepped to the open door, and looked out on a new world.

The sky was deepening into twilight, a dusky, somber, not-exactly earthtone color that certainly looked alien enough.

It was a dead world. Across the whole expanse, not one glimpse of green life could be seen.

But there was movement. Wisps of swirling dust occasionally lifted, to dance in the thin air and light gravity. And the shadows grew as he watched them.

He extended the ramp, and walked slowly down it, stepping off gingerly onto the soil of an alien world.

He bent down carefully, and scooped a small amount of soil up in his his gauntleted hand. It sifted through his fingers and drifted away on the ghostly wind.

He looked toward the distant shrunken sun, and oriented himself. No, it wasn’t visible at the moment.

Out there, keeping its figurative hands warm by that distant fire, his home world slowly turned its back on the life-giving warmth of its cozy nuclear fireplace, and prepared to slumber.

While he could only watch, and envy its easy life.

“We come in Peace for all Mankind.” Those were the words he wanted to say. But in his mind, bouncing back and forth in his mental silent vacuum, he was thinking, “Don’t surrender just yet, you ancient god of war. Reinforcements have arrived.”

“Don’t surrender just yet, you ancient god of war. Reinforcements have arrived.”

Mars pater, te precor quaesoque uti sies volens propitius mihi domo familiaeque nostrae, quoius re ergo agrum terram fundumque meum suovitaurilia circumagi iussi, uti tu morbos visos invisosque, viduertatem vastitudinemque, calamitates intemperiasque prohibessis defendas averruncesque; utique tu fruges, frumenta, vineta virgultaque grandire beneque evenire siris, pastores pecuaque salva servassis duisque bonam salutem valetudinemque mihi domo familiaeque nostrae; harumce rerum ergo, fundi terrae agrique mei lustrandi lustrique faciendi ergo, sicuti dixi, macte hisce suovitaurilibus lactentibus inmolandis esto; Mars pater, eiusdem rei ergo macte hisce suovitaurilibus lactentibus esto

"Father Mars, I pray and beseech thee that thou be gracious and merciful to me, my house, and my household; to which intent I have bidden this suovetaurilia to be led around my land, my ground, my farm; that thou keep away, ward off, and remove sickness, seen and unseen, barrenness and destruction, ruin and unseasonable influence; and that thou permit my harvests, my grain, my vineyards, and my plantations to flourish and to come to good issue, preserve in health my shepherds and my flocks, and give good health and strength to me, my house, and my household. To this intent, to the intent of purifying my farm, my land, my ground, and of making an expiation, as I have said, deign to accept the offering of these suckling victims; Father Mars, to the same intent deign to accept the offering of these suckling offering."

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