The Martians

ARES MANGAL-GRAH

Ares slips in and out of consciousness, caught in a cycle of sleep and wakefulness that brings no peace. His dreams are a torrent of nightmares, each more terrifying than the last.

He sees his mother, Elysia, her once vibrant eyes now dull with despair, chained in a dungeon where the walls weep with the moisture of centuries. Her hair is matted, her clothes tattered, yet her gaze burns with defiance.

Jove, his youngest brother, is in the arms of a stranger, a woman with cold, unloving eyes, raising him as her own.

Athena, his sister, is transformed into a figure of terror, her eyes wild with the thrill of the kill, her hands stained with blood. And Romulus and Juno, his twins, are lost, adrift in an endless sea of bloodthirsty monsters, their cries for help swallowed by the chaos.

"Noooooooooo!" Ares awakens with a scream that tears through the silence, his voice raw with the terror of the visions that refuse to leave him, even in waking.

The girl named Kirin bursts into the room, her entrance marked by the loud kick of the door, swinging it wide open with her foot. In her hand, she grips a long, slender blade, its curved edge gleaming with an edge so sharp it seems to slice through the very air. She moves with the blade at the ready, her body poised for action.

Her eyes dart across the room, taking in every detail with the precision of a seasoned warrior as Faraday stumbles in, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

Faraday's face erupts into a wide, joyous smile the moment he spots Ares, who's now sitting up, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving from the intensity of his nightmares.

Faraday dashes over to Ares, his eyes glittering with a mix of wonder and scientific curiosity as he scans Ares's face and body, looking for signs of recovery or perhaps something more mysterious.

Without a moment's hesitation, Faraday rushes to Ares's side, his eyes sparkling with a mix of awe and analytical zeal. He examines Ares's face and body, his hands hovering just above, as if he can almost see the mysteries unfolding beneath the skin.

Faraday unleashes a torrent of questions, each one coming faster than the last. "Where are you from? How does it look? How advanced is your civilization? Where are you on the Kardashev scale? How strong are you? What types of powers do you wield?"

Ares, his jaw still sore but manageable, slowly opens his mouth, the room silent but for the hum of anticipation from Faraday, who's practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes as wide as saucers, waiting for the revelations.

Then, after a pause that stretches into an eternity of silence, Ares, with a voice slightly hoarse, utters the single word, "Food."

Faraday looks bewildered, "You're from... food?"

Kirin, who had stilled upon seeing no immediate threat, rolls her eyes and clarifies, "He's asking for food, dumbass."

Faraday blinks, the realization slow to dawn, "Oh..." It takes a few more moments for the penny to drop, "Ohh!" His disappointment is evident as he sighs, flicking his wrist dismissively at Kirin, "Go bring some food."

After a moment, he looks back to find her still standing there, eyebrow arched.

Faraday, confused, starts, "Why, what did I even..."

He catches on to his mistake, rephrasing his command into a request, "Kirin, will you please bring food for X?"

Kirin smirks, "No." And with that, she turns and leaves the room.

And with that, she turns and leaves the room.

Ares and Faraday watch her depart. Faraday turns to Ares, seeking solidarity, "Girls, am I right?"

Ares merely shrugs, noncommittal.

Faraday clicks his tongue, muttering, "No fun," before he too exits, saying as he leaves, "I'll go get you something to eat."

Faraday returns after a brief absence, carrying with him a small, compact package of food that Ares has never seen before.

It's a dense rectangle, the color of ash, its surface smooth yet uninviting, like a brick of compressed nutrients rather than something meant to be enjoyed.

"It's not much," Faraday says as he hands it over, "but it will sustain you," he pauses, his eyes scanning Ares critically, then adds, "for a short while."

Ares takes a cautious bite, and immediately his taste buds are met with a wave of blandness. It's like chewing on compressed sawdust, with an aftertaste of soil, devoid of any zest or flavor. The texture demands thorough chewing, each bite a labor without the reward of taste, the food neither moist nor dry, just a dense, unyielding mass that fulfills its promise of nutrition without any pleasure.

Ares keeps his thoughts to himself, managing a polite, "Thank you for the food."

Faraday, his face set in an unexpectedly serious expression, probes, "Was it good? Be honest."

Ares hesitates, contemplating his response. Honesty might offend, but he recoils at the thought of lying. Yet, after a moment, he chooses diplomacy, saying, "It's good."

Faraday's serious look morphs into a knowing grin, "Liar. I know it tastes like paper."

Ares chuckles, "Well, it... does it's job?"

Faraday says, "Exactly, it does the job. Don't expect gourmet, but at least you won't starve!"

Faraday's serious look morphs into a knowing grin, "Liar. I know it tastes like paper."

Ares chuckles, "Well, it... does it's job?"

Faraday says, "Exactly, it does the job. Don't expect gourmet, but at least you won't starve!"

Ares attempts to flex them, his face contorting with the effort, a groan escaping his lips, "Sensation is weak, but I can feel control returning."

Faraday hums thoughtfully, "Hmmm, you're already recovering at an inhuman pace. A few more days, weeks maybe, and you'll be just fine. Problem is, we don't have that time. Kirin leaves tomorrow."

Ares's expression darkens, "It's fine. If I cannot recover in time, you can leave me here. Our paths are probably different anyway."

Faraday furrows his brow, lost in deep thought, then, as if reaching a decision, he stands abruptly, extending an arm to Ares.

Ares eyes the outstretched arm with caution. Faraday, impatient, rolls his eyes, "Come on, man, I haven't got all day."

Ares takes the arm, attempting to rise. However, his legs give out, unable to support him, and Faraday, not expecting the full weight, stumbles. They both tumble to the ground in an ungainly heap.

Faraday grumbles as they lay on the floor, "Damn, what are you, a mountain?, how much do you weigh?"

With a Herculean effort, they finally manage to get to their feet, but it's more like a dance of the drunk, with Faraday nearly being dragged down by Ares's every step, his arms windmilling for balance, nearly sending them both back to the floor.

As they hobble out, Faraday, through gritted teeth from the effort of supporting Ares, asks, "Oh, what's your name?"

Ares, straining to keep upright, replies, "Ares, Ares Mangal-Grah."

Faraday, teetering under the load, squints, "Mangal what now?"

Ares, with a grunt from the effort of staying vertical, clarifies, "Grah."

As they finally make it out of the room, Faraday, still struggling under Ares's weight, mutters, "Yeah, I'm not calling you that. I'll stick with X."