First Rain

For a century they had waited, silently imprisoned, safe in the ground. A century gone by without change, until….

A pattering of rain began to fall. The drops gaining in size and frequency as the rare clouds finally let go of their precious cargo. At first, the rain beaded and ran over the surface of the fine, red dust. Soon, however, the larger drops pushed past the surface and the thirsty soil swallowed them down.

As their hard prisons dissolved, they emerged, ravenous. There was no hesitation as they hunted down their prey. By the thousands they spread out, spearing their prey with a needle-like mouth before sucking out their insides. As the rain soaked more ground, more of their brethren awoke from their slumber and joined in the slaughter.

As quickly as it had started, the rain stopped. The soil held the water greedily, though, allowing the continued frenzy.

The faint light of day gave way to the dark of night, and still they continued, blindly searching out their prey, spearing them, and sucking out their insides. As they ate they grew, some faster than others. The faster growing of them reached a size twice that of the others. The smaller, however, grew a spear-like appendage they could extend from their cloaca.

No matter how much they ate, there was an endless supply of prey, far more than they could ever devour. The first of them to emerge were beginning to slow down. The instinct to eat was on the wane, and another was emerging.

Night again turned to day, melting the thin layer of ice that had formed on the surface during the night. Vibrations spread through the ground around them, but they ignored it. They were driven by instinct and smell alone.

Where they had first spread out, they began to congregate. The smaller ones were drawn to the larger. When they got close enough, the small ones speared the larger with their spear-like appendage, depositing their genetic material.

After the violent coitus, the larger ones left to again eat, while the smaller simply stopped moving. They had served their purpose and would die soon.

The large ones kept on the move, eating and depositing their eggs over a wide area. When the last of their eggs were laid, they too, would die, having ensured that the next ravenous generation would return…someday.

#

“Ammonia, slight increase in soil nitrogen…I’d say they survived.” Gavin, tall and thin, dressed in a heavy coat, warm gloves, and an oxygen mask covering the lower half of his mahogany face, studied the display of the sampler built into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Let’s take a look,” Ayla said. Shorter than Gavin, her figure was indiscernible beneath the heavy clothes. Her face was pink around the oxygen mask. She scooped up a sample of the red mud with a spoon, repurposed for this occasion, and placed it in the 3-D microscope.

A holographic display showed in the air above the microscope. With careful gestures, Ayla turned the display, zooming in and examining the sample.

“That looks like it might be an egg encapsulation.”

“It does,” Gavin agreed. “See the slight track there? Try to follow that.”

She did as he suggested. Soon, a figure became clear in the holograph. A squirming tube, narrowed at both ends, thrashed through the soil and deposited another egg.

“Nice,” Gavin said, “healthy female, and eggs.”

“If we have a male in here too, we can head back.” Ayla began to follow the track backwards from the female.

“Are you really in a hurry to go back to the dome?” Gavin asked.

“This is huge,” she said, “and I’m excited. Aren’t you? Besides, we need to see what kind of genetic damage a century of solar radiation might have done.”

“Find your male,” he said, “then take a break. I’ve brought along a little bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

“Is that all you think about?” she asked.

“What? Breaks, celebrations…champagne?”

“Excuses to slack off.”

Gavin snorted. “Just find your male. Hopefully you didn’t scoop her up too far away from him.”

“There he is!” Ayla zoomed the holographic image in to the unmoving male, his spear-like appendage still fully extended. She turned off the microscope and closed the sample container.

Gavin held a split of champagne in one hand, his eyes turned skyward. Ayla looked up. The clouds were gathering again, darker than the previous day. “Do you think?” she asked.

“The second rain in as many days? It’s possible.” He returned his attention to the champagne. “But we have yet to celebrate the first rain.”

“Where were you last night? The parties in the dome were insane.”

“I was busy calibrating equipment for this,” he said, pointing to the sample container. “Besides, I thought it might rain again today, and I wanted to be in it, rather than a hundred kilometers away.”

“I don’t suppose you brought any glasses?”

“Nope, waste of time.” He popped the cork and handed the bottle to Ayla. “This way you don’t have to worry about my germs.”

Ayla chuckled. She raised her mask and took a drink from the split. It was cold and clean, with hints of apple. She lowered her mask and handed the bottle back to Gavin.

He took a deep draught from the bottle, swallowing nearly half the contents. He lowered his mask, taking a deep breath. As Ayla reached for the bottle, he burped in his mask, making her laugh.

“Is it as good the second time?”

He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Divine.”

Rain again began to patter down, and both looked to the sky. “Twice in two days!” Gavin did an impromptu dance.

He removed his mask and opened his mouth wide, tongue out, letting the rain fall on it. He laughed and kept doing it until he got too dizzy to continue and had to put his mask back on.

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” Ayla let the cold rain wash over her upturned face, icy rivulets running down her neck to snake under her heavy coat and run down her spine.

“Just think,” Gavin said, “not only did the nematodes survive over a century before the first rain, but we were the first to experience rain on Mars!”