He was having a dream again of that planet. Totally red, totally rusty. He was looking for Stewart this time, but Stewart had passed on to another realm. The Land of the Living. Because, in the dream, *he* was instead dead, trying to make his way back from, shall we call this Hell? No, Greg Nash Ogden corrected himself while staring around. Too luminescent, he decided, to be that place of anguish and gnashing of teeth. But certainly red like that place. No fire, though. Better wander around while I have my wits.
He eventually stumbles upon the underground base, vast in size.
A robotic weapons factory, at least in part.
But no food. He realizes he might starve down here. To life?
He receives a name on a back wall. Mars.
Greg Ogden wakes up, his mouth dry as desert.