When I began this project, I did not think it would blossom into the work that it did. When I published my first chapter on November 15, 2021, I was so unsure of what was to come, and so nervous about whether anyone at all would read this work - but my expectations were more than exceeded. Proxima has become something I am immensely proud of, and while it has not always pleased everyone, I am so grateful that it has made a difference for at least some folks, and inspired people to pursue their own exploration of alternate history. While this is our last chapter of the story, there will be one more crucial piece coming very soon that I am very excited about, I cannot wait to share what I have in store. I will also be doing a Proxima: Best Of art post in the coming weeks, and I encourage folks to ask tons of questions in the interim. I want to give a huge shoutout to
Ben, who did the two tracks for today's chapter which you can listen to
here and
here, and take a moment to thank the countless people who have helped make this project a reality - so much of this world has come to life as a result of their contributions. Thank you all for joining me, I will see you in the Epilogue, and I can't wait for what's on the Horizon.
Chapter 47: Forward, Together
10:00 AM, Central Standard Time
Johnson Space Center
Houston, TX
August 1, 2022
“In life, when one is the recipient of an inspirational speech about the nature of a journey, the beginning is always the moment that is focused on. That first step, the biggest hurdle, the threshold. When I was selected to be an astronaut well over 25 years ago, stepping into the door of the training facility was the thing that everyone said would be the hardest moment of my entire career. Not a flight on an experimental vehicle, not leading a team to Mars, not ensuring the safe return of our fellow human explorers. And now… with that under my belt, I can say that the hardest moment in all of my career as an astronaut is this - I’m retiring. And it is not without careful thought. I think of the Annas that have come before me, all of the Annas that could exist in this moment, and this is who I choose to be. I choose to be the Anna that keeps her head on the ground, to watch her daughter Jackie go through college, which I must admit is the scariest part of my life, to stay with my feet on the ground and watch the sunset with my husband. That is the Anna I want to be. But that is not to say that the Anna that came before wasn’t someone I’m grateful for. I am immensely grateful for everything that NASA, our partners, and more have done for me. I am grateful for the industry partners who have powered our vision, and to every engineer who I haven’t thanked yet, thank you. You were the ones who got all of us there. To walk on Mars. To take the human spirit and turn the dial up to 11. That is what makes me proud to come to work every day. And… With that said, I wanted to give a special thank you to my Russian colleague and dear friend, Commander Sergei Ivanov. Sergei and I share a very special connection, we have come to each other’s aid numerous times, and he pulled through yet again. He told me, in his infinite wisdom, that no matter what path I chose, it would be the right one for me. So thank you Commander Ivanov. And thank all of you for trusting me to be the leader you needed… it is an honor and a privilege I do not take lightly. I would also like to take this moment to pass the torch, so to speak. There have been a variety of conversations about who I believe should come next, who should take my place, and I am pleased to announce that Christopher Taylor, my dear colleague and friend, will take over as Chief Astronaut and lead us to new destinations… taking us on new adventures with both the Olympus, and Destiny Programs - a truly joint effort to explore our celestial neighbors. I trust that he will continue to perform his duties with great care, steadfastness, and resolve, and before the decade is out - I am confident I will see him stepping gracefully across the surface of the Moon, walking with our colleagues from across the world, both old and new. And now… this very moment ends my journey here with you today. I am forever grateful for everything this amazing program has offered us, and I cannot wait to see our next giant leap. God bless you all.”
Anna stepped off the stage to a stunned crowd, mouths open in sheer awe, and smiled as they began to slowly applaud. One by one, members of the audience would stand, rising to meet a woman who had been there for it all. The first human on Mars, and the start of the flood of exploration. But in this moment, for the first time in 25 years, she was no longer any of that. She was Anna. A woman ready to meet a challenge that she was not yet aware of. This moment, for her, had been a long time coming. A moment in time she never truly wanted to face, and yet now that she had, she felt almost content. As she crossed the threshold of the stage, she was instantly enveloped in handshakes and hugs - her daughter crying quietly into her shoulder as the clump of people moved around her. “I’m so proud of you, mom…” she would mumble into her mother’s blazer, “I never thought you’d step away. But here you are…” Her daughter would be joined by her husband, her brother and sister, family and friends that radiated outwards from her in a comforting embrace. For the first time in a long time, the weight of gravity felt noticeable - a reminder of her reality, one of being grounded in the present. As the celebrations spilled out of the stuffy hallways, Anna found herself crying for the first time in a long time. A moment of peace, a moment of stillness in her life that had been missing for so long. The embrace of her daughter, her friends, her colleagues that had supported her for so many years. And now, with the path to the Moon laid out, and the strength of the world rallying around a human presence on Mars, there would be no stopping what could come next. A flood of humans, no longer bound by terrestrial gravity, stepping free into the cosmos for all to explore. Anna could not help but wonder where that would take them, all of them. So much of the Olympus program, Anna reflected, would come from the machines that carried them across the stars, so much development that required hundreds of man hours to complete, and even more to test and get working. But there was something more, an additional component that would grow and develop throughout the course of the program, the human element. What made this program truly unique was the people it encompassed, and the lives it changed - a fundamental shift in the understanding of what it meant to be human. To all of those born after the year 1997, they had never known a world where humans had not walked upon their sister planet, waltzed in orbit, and done more than humans a mere 30 years prior could not believe. It was not the end, rather, a glorious dawn. A new beginning in which humanity could begin to spill over its banks, planting their feet on new worlds for the foreseeable future.
— — — — — — — —
11:30 PM, Central Standard Time
Pearland TX, USA.
August 1, 2022
The party had ended an hour prior, and Anna found herself laying out under the stars in the night sky, lost in the moment. She had just reviewed her last downlink from the Olympus 16 mission - they were on their 5th day of driving operations through the Noctis Labyrinth, exploring a new potential aquifer spotted by the fleet in Martian orbit. Soon, they would be met on the surface for the first time by another Martian crew, Olympus 17, as the first direct handover of operations in the program's history. There was some degree of envy there, her stay on the surface had been to a relatively uninteresting corner of an uninteresting region, features of interest washed away by the ruthless sands of time - and here were her successors, waltzing through a maze of unknowns and uncertainty. It was not worth worrying now, her role had been played, and she would forever be grateful. A door opened somewhere, and Anna sat upright, footsteps processing through the darkened house. She stood, brushing her shirt into a presentable state, and caught sight of the 5 figures standing in the lit doorway of her home. Thomas Bromely, Laurent St. Michel, and Ivan Maksimov smiled warmly around her, and she found herself colliding with them in a bear hug.
“You guys… I didn’t think you’d get the chance to be here, I can’t fucking believe it…” She wiped a tear from her eye, shaking their hands and embracing them once more. Ivan would smile, his emotional honesty shining through once more.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Commander. We are sorry we couldn’t be here earlier, I know your family was looking forward to seeing us.” Laurent patted her warmly on the back, his familiar half smile crossing his face.
“Maks is right, the Olympus 3 crew has to be together to see their commander out, its only right!” Anna smiled and wiped a tear from her eye, embracing him once again. She made sure to take a good look at them, the sands of time had worn away at her friends - they were not the young men she had been selected to fly with nearly 20 years ago. Nor was she the young commander. She took a deep, albeit hesitant breath, before turning her attention to the two remaining figures. Sergei Ivanov stood as stoically as ever, dressed in his formal military uniform. He looked less tired, more human than he had in a long time - a return to the man she had known prior to his departure to the Red Planet. He said nothing, and Anna followed his eyes to the woman standing next to him. Dr. Liao stood, silhouetted against the warm lights of the Douglass household kitchen, and smiled. Anna said nothing, and for the first time in her life, embraced her.
“Dr. Liao… Sergei, my god you’re here. How did you get here so quickly, I… I had no idea you were coming, I should have made sure the house wasn’t a wreck, gosh.” Bromley chuckled, turning to face them.
“See, around us she’s allowed to be a little messy, we spent a good deal of time trapped in a tin can with her!” The group laughed, and Sergei would relax from his military precision, finding the small moments of comfort that he could. Dr. Liao smiled, something so rare and delicate.
“I could not think of a place I would rather be Dr. Douglass, no… Anna. There is no place I would rather be. You have been at the center of one of the greatest movements this planet has ever seen, pushed us further and touched all of our lives. You’ve changed my life… and our.. Our species is more prepared to go further. And we owe it to you. We all owe it to you.” Anna would embrace her once more, no longer bound by the principles that governed their first interaction - perhaps now they could even be called friends.
The group would spend the rest of the night chatting, pouring over details of their various missions, reflecting on shared experience and reminiscing about the days in training together. Sergei would speak a little more softly that night, talking fondly of his mission to Athena and his crewmates. He had returned from officiating the wedding of his former colleagues Elliot Weir and Timothy Small, who had grown even closer during their experience on Olympus 9. As the night drew to a close once more, the glint of artificial stars above them would remind them of their place in the universe, humans living and working in the harsh environment of space. But now, as Anna bid goodnight to her friends and colleagues, and took one last look at the stars, she truly felt like she had made a difference. The world was a profoundly different place from when she had looked up at the night sky at 6 years old, pondering her place as humanity walked upon their first world. And now, with the rising tide of exploration and discovery, those footsteps would blossom into something beyond her childhood self’s wildest dreams. Anna smiled, shutting the door to the back yard for the final time - moment of closure after all.
— — — — — — — —
Elysium Planitia, Rover 2 “Balboa”
2:32:16 PM Local Time
May 16, 2047
We had been driving for almost 9 days, trundling out from our stopover at the Isidis Planitia facility, and skirting some of the rockier terrain in the region. We could be a little less cautious here, the sands of the plains were what this rover was meant for, and we had upped our speed. This drive felt more arduous somehow than the transit from Shackleton Base on the Moon, but the changing scenery was always preferable to the endless expanse of space. There were three of us in the rover, myself, Walker, and the historian, Brentwood. They’d been a fine crew to travel with, and camping in the rover with the deployable hab module was never unpleasant, and getting out and walking around certainly had its perks. The boring part was simply the monotony of it all, the endless desert and sky that seemed to blend into one after some time away from the base. After being surrounded by nearly 30 people in the Foundation complex for so long, three felt like not enough - like we were somehow vulnerable to the changing whims of the universe. But, we were there to do a job. It was the mid afternoon, on our final day of driving, when we saw it. A piece of metal, strewn in the sand. It was half buried, covered in the muddy red-brown regolith of Elysium Planitia, but it was not local - it was human made. A legacy of past adventures. We stopped and got into our suits, with Brentwood taking the lead. He approached it carefully, photographing it with his helmet cam, before bending down to pick it up. It was a sample collection tool, something the Jet Propulsion Lab would have built. We were getting close. We trekked onwards, the rover slowing to a crawl to help us look for things, when, over the horizon, we saw it. Standing tall, bits of insulation and metal moving delicately in the wind, sat MSAV
Zephyr. No one had been here since that fateful few weeks 50 years ago, and… it somehow felt so familiar. The Olympus 3 landing site, as astronauts ourselves, was burned into all of our minds. We all knew what the landing area looked like, where everything was - it had been so carefully documented in every history book and training manual. Brentwood could barely contain himself, and Walker and I stood in stunned, almost uncomfortable silence. We had left the rover about half a mile away, proceeding further on foot - our steps in the Martian regolith the most concrete disturbance for some time. It was all there, covered in dust and grit, but there. Valiant’s Landing. We walked up to the lander first, admiring its condition. The ascent stage had damaged it, sure, but she was remarkably in good shape. I had no words, truly. I stood among giants. Brentwood’s excited shouting called us over to the other side of the lander, where he stood. The four flags, planted by the crew, had faded in the harsh desert and leaned slightly, and Brentwood was busy digging out something in the center of them.
The memorial… I had only seen replicas in museums. But there it was, before my very eyes... a delicate reminder of all of those who came before Brentwood carefully started to move the flags, adjusting them so they stood proud, despite their time in the dirt. I returned to the rover, treading carefully through the delicate landing site, and retrieved a case, sealed since its departure from Earth. We worked quietly, moving some of the dust and cleaning the small monument so that its text could be read. Slowly, we cleared a small area in the center of the flags, carefully opened the case, and lay a small plaque, bearing the following inscription:
Commander Anna Marie Douglass
1962 AD - 2047 AD
First Human on the Planet Mars
Forever a reminder of what is possible
Per Aspera Ad Astra
