[ WP ] We finally get men on Mars and they discover an old Soviet flag placed down decades ago . The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason did n't say anything .

There was a click on the open channel, a moment of static, cursing, and then another click as across the ether, gloved fingers found the correct toggle switch. 
 
 `` -yman did you do this? Really very funny. You know you're making history with the first practical joke on the planet Mars.'' 
 
 Another click, and Art Lyman's disembodied voice filled the channel. 
 
 `` Did I do what? You'll have to be more specific than that, Sharon.'' 
 
 `` You know what. It might have been funnier if it was the eighties, this joke went out of style about the same time as your first name.'' 
 
 `` Oh ha-ha, that joke's getting pretty stale too. Seriously, what're you blaming me for?'' 
 
 Following a brief tone, an image appeared on the screen of Lyman's wrist computer. He wiped off some of the fine oxide dust, and squinted at it through his visor. 
 
 `` What the hell is that?'' 
 
 It was a view taken from a wind-blown clifftop, overlooking a deep crater. He could just make out some tracks in the sand below. 
 
 `` You know I'm honestly sort of impressed Lyman, where did you find the time to do this? 
 
 `` Is that due east of the hab? I have n't even been over there. Besides it's, what, some rover tracks? It was probably Polchek.'' 
 
 `` It's Cyrillic, moron. Did n't your parents try to culture you when you were younger?'' 
 
 `` It's windy, my visor is scratched, there's dust all over...'' 
 
 `` You know I'm kidding, Lyman. You know what, is n't Polchek's grandmother Russian? It probably was him.'' 
 
 Polchek's voice crackled over the com. `` It was n't me'' 
 
 `` You really expect me to believe that? There are only three people on this whole planet.'' 
 
 `` I've been in the hab all week, check my logs.'' 
 
 `` C'mon, there's no way -'' 
 
 Lyman interrupted. `` Sharon, that image you sent, bottom right... what is that? Just outside the crater's shadow, little red thing. I mean, I know it's *all* red, but the thing redder than that.'' 
 
 Sharon adjusted her suit camera, and an enlarged image arrived on all their screens. 
 
 `` Is that...'' Lyman trailed off, and Polchek chimed in. 
 
 `` It's... a flag? It's a *Soviet* flag Sharon, what the fuck.'' 
 
 The pinprick of a sun had crested the crater rim, and the deep shadows began to retreat. Sharon's faraway voice drifted across the com. 
 
 `` Hey Polchek'' 
 
 `` Yeah?'' 
 
 `` You read Russian?'' 
 
 `` A little'' 
 
 `` What's it say?'' 
 
 She sent him a wider shot, and went back to panning the brightening crater. 
 
 `` It looks like... no, that's not it...'', Polchek muttered. 
 
 A white flash caught Sharon's eye, and she increased the magnification on her suit cam. Her voice developed a mild tremor. `` Polchek? Polchek tell me what it says.'' 
 
 `` It looks like... *ver... vernut*'' 
 
 Her view had centered on a tiny rover, mired in the dust. 
 
 `` What's it mean, Polchek?'' 
 
 `` It means...'come back'.'' 
 
 At the upper limit of her zoom, she could just make out another object less than five yards away, almost completely covered in the rusty sand. Sun glinted off a broken visor, and a rust-red glove clutched an ashen rock. 
 
 She stood for a moment. Privately, she wondered if anyone had even seen the message. She flicked the com switch. 
 
 `` Nasty way to go.'' 
 
 `` What is?'' 
 
 She swept her arms across the barren expanse, even though neither Polchek nor Lyman could see her. `` All this emptiness.'' 
 
 `` What do you mean?'' 
 
 `` I'll tell you when I get back''. She paused for a moment, and then turned back toward the hab, tracking rusty bootprints all the way.
