THE
MARTIAN
ENIGMA
D. B. REYNOLDS-MORETON
The Martian Enigma
This edition Copyright © 2011 by sci-fi-cafe.com.
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Story Copyright © 1999 by D. B. Reynolds-Moreton
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The Enigma
As the power was cut, the high pitched scream of the drive motor slowly descended down the frequency scale to a more tolerable whine. A deep throated growl followed as the gear train tried to take up the strain of the backlash created by the momentum of the massive centrifuge arm and its heavy cupola trying to override the system.
The cupola contained one Gregory Stewart, an astronaut of some ten years experience and many flights up to the orbiting research station and launch platform which encircled the Earth on the very fringes of space itself.
The extremely high ‘G’ force which Greg had been subjected to gradually lessened as the centrifuge lost momentum, and his stomach tried to assume its natural position in his abdomen while his eyeballs returned to their normal near spherical shape.
Hearing the sound of the cupola’s hatchway lock being released, Greg heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed, and as the door swung open a bright cheery face greeted him.
‘We gave you an extra ‘G’ that time, on the orders of the medical board, I’ll bet you didn’t even notice it, sir!’
‘Thanks a lot, pal,’ Greg replied sarcastically, ‘what’s an extra ‘G’ when you're flattened out like a bloody kipper in this thing?’
Despite the controlling effect of the pressure suit, he still felt the odd tingle as his blood supply tried to refill those parts which had been deprived of the life giving fluid for the past few minutes.
With his legs still feeling a bit shaky, he climbed down the metal ladder to the solid concrete floor of the centrifuge pit, helped by a somewhat contrite assistant who wondered exactly what it was that he had said or done wrong.
‘Well, you won’t have to go through that again for another six months, sir.’ the assistant said, desperately trying to re-establish some form of friendly communication.
‘You’re damned right I won’t.’ Greg growled, thankfully.
Holding his body as erect as possible to regain some degree of dignity, Greg wobbled his way towards the exit door in the side of the pit, wondering for the umpteenth time why he allowed his person to be subjected to such abuse, as he considered the extremely high ‘G’ forces he had to endure were far in excess of that which he would experience during his work to and from the space station.
He peeled off his ‘G’ suit, and hoped he would be able to meet the very exacting requirements of the medical board for some time to come, as he dreaded the thought of being earth bound, or at best, a desk job on the space station. He couldn’t envisage anything giving him the buzz that space work did, and was therefore determined to put off the inevitable day of retirement as long as possible, despite the dreaded six monthly torture of the centrifuge.
After a quick shower, and having changed into his white uniform with its glistening gold buttons as only worn by those deemed good enough to be astronauts, Greg made his way towards the canteen to join the other long standing four members of his team.
They would by now have completed their various medical tests, and be ready to partake of refreshments along with a general criticism of the medical board and renewed doubting of the parentage of the sadistic person or persons responsible for the centrifuge.
By the time he reached the canteen, his legs were functioning normally again, and the desperate thirst to replace lost sweat from his ordeal was foremost in his mind.
‘Hi Greg,’ one of them called out as he entered the room, ‘you might not have heard as you were in the whirly thing, but we’ve all been invited to the Director’s suite at eighteen hundred hours. As I’ve said all along, I’ll bet we’re going to be asked to apply for the Mars mission.’
‘That could be a mixed blessing,’ Greg replied, ‘if the rumours going around at the moment contain any truth.
‘Personally, I think they’re just scare stories put about by those who don’t stand a chance of going into space. A touch of the old ‘sour grapes’, if you ask me.’ And he downed a second litre glass of orange juice.
‘I don’t think there’s much more risk than our usual trips up to the space station,’ Paul, their blond haired navigator responded, ‘after all, they’re more concerned about their damned hardware than us, so they’ll not risk losing that!’
Later, during many cups of steaming hot coffee, the pros and cons of the proposed Mars trip were batted back and forth until all sensible arguments for and against the flight had been exhausted. In the end, the five man crew of the Earth to space station shuttle resorted to light hearted banter on the matter, until it was time for them to make their way up to the exalted heights of the Director’s suite to see what was on offer.
During the journey, they decided that a united front to any proposals was essential, and to that end they all agreed that if the Mars flight was offered, they would accept it, although two of the crew were a little hesitant about putting their full weight behind the idea at first.
The long trek to the high rise administration block was made a little easier than it would normally have been in days of old, by the moving belt system which joined all the main units of the Earth side launch station together.
Reaching the lift which would whirl them up forty storeys in half as many seconds, the group were finally united in their decision to accept the anticipated Mars flight, if indeed, that was what the Director had in mind.
The sheer opulence of the Director’s suite was something to behold, being the only unit in the whole complex apart from the VIP suite, to be so adorned. Everywhere else was designed to be purely functional and efficient, with no pot plants or pretty pictures to distract the personnel from their day to day duties.
As the crew exited the lift, their feet sank into a rich dark purple deep pile carpet, enabling them to traverse the space to the reception lounge in total silence, apart from a comment offered by Greg to the effect that the designers of the suite must have been colour blind, or at the very least, colour deficient in the red band.
A tall willowy blonde, who would make any red blooded male’s heart ache, emerged from a green wall of strange looking plants which reached right up to the high ceiling, no doubt genetically engineered by someone with a warped sense of humour.
‘Please take a seat while I see if the Director is ready to see you.’ she purred with a voice like soft silk sliding over an even softer thigh.
The crew looked at each other in turn, two of them going a red about the gills, while Paul swallowed hard and said, ‘Must say, I’m glad I don’t work here, I’d be in jail within the first week, or maybe sooner.’ The others grinned and giggled like embarrassed school boys, while nodding their heads vigorously, except Greg, who had other things on his mind at the moment. He felt he was still responsible for the welfare of the others, even if they all agreed on the trip.
‘Good God.’ exclaimed one of the crew when he got his breath back and the blonde was safely engulfed in th
e greenery and out of earshot. ‘If anyone needed a good reason not to risk his neck in space, I’d put her down for the first six, that’s for sure.’
‘Forget it,’ said Greg, ‘I’ll bet she’s about as off limits as the Director’s booze cabinet, and then some. Must say though, she’s a rather tempting morsel.’
Foliage rustled and parted, the blonde adjusted a strand of hair which a vagrant leaf had dislodged from its carefully placed position, and glided towards the still awe-struck crew.
‘Please come this way, the Director will see you now.’ she purred, and four male spines quivered and tingled as over active imaginations took hold for a few delicious moments.
If the reception area was opulent, then the Director’s office was downright obscene in its splendour. The carpet was even thicker, the furniture hand built from the finest imported mahogany and hand polished to a mirror finish which almost hurt the eyes of those fortunate enough to be honoured to view it.
Very ancient pictures in even older heavy gilt frames adorned the walls giving the ambience of a very rich museum rather than an office belonging to the Space Administration. The crew were impressed.
A six foot bronzed Adonis with silver white hair, and a wide smile complete with a set of perfect sparkling white teeth, greeted the somewhat shaken four and Greg, waving them towards a row of reproduction gilt Queen Ann chairs.
‘Please be seated gentlemen. Don’t worry, they’re a lot stronger than they look.’
Despite the reassurance, the crew gingerly did as they were bid, feeling out of place in the plush surroundings.
‘We have much to discuss with regard to the forthcoming manned mission to Mars, and I suspect that you have already guessed that you have been short listed for the project.’
The Director beamed his flashing white smile from one to the next, looking for some affirmation to his statement.
‘Naturally we have discussed it since we received your request to attend this meeting. I think I can speak for the rest of the crew when I say that we are honoured to have been considered for the project.’ Greg hoped he hadn’t been too effusive in his reply.
‘Good.’ said the Director, his face suddenly losing its enforced smile and taking on a more serious attitude.
‘I think a little light refreshment is called for before I put you all in the picture, so to speak,’ and so saying he silently glided across the room to the magnificent drinks cabinet, putting six glasses and a very ornate bottle onto a tray.
The soft plop of the withdrawn cork was swallowed up by the sound absorbing qualities of the thick pile carpet, along with the clink of the glasses as he filled them one after another, and then passed them to eagerly awaiting hands.
When all were armed with a cut crystal glass containing some unknown aromatic sweet smelling pale amber liquid, the Director gracefully lowered himself into his over stuffed leather covered chair, raised his glass and said seriously,
‘I drink to your health, a successful mission, and your safe return to Earth.’
Greg didn’t like the sound of the last part of the toast, it seemed to have a doubting quality which somehow the controlled voice of the Director was unable to hide.
The crew raised their glasses towards the Director in acknowledgement, and then took a sip of the strange liquid, trying to hide their surprise as it coursed down their throats.
Later, when the crew discussed the interview, they felt that in some indefinable way sharing the drink with the Director had somehow committed them to the project and left them less happy about the whole thing than they would have wished.
The Director unnecessarily cleared his throat to gain the attention of the still overawed prospective Mars explorers.
‘I am sure all of you know the most salient details about the project, as you have been working on the assembly of the main ship for so long. But I would like, if I may, to fill in some details you may not have had access to.’ He looked around at the crew to try and judge just how much they knew, and how much he could safely skip over.
‘As you must know, we have sent many probes to Mars in the past, most of the early ones were only capable of sending back pictures, and then we managed to land one and that gave us a little more information of the conditions on the planet. Twelve years ago we managed to send down a Lander from an orbiting vehicle and bring back a sample of Martian soil, or I should say, sand.
‘Once it had been analysed, and a few simple bacteria found in the sample, other probes were sent. One of these brought back a small piece of bone, or at least, that’s what we think it was. Needless to say, a manned landing was now called for from on high, and a rather hastily constructed mother ship complete with a Lander was cobbled together and dispatched to the planet.
‘The three man ship reached Mars without mishap, the Lander went down with two crew on board, the other one remaining on the orbiter to help with the rejoining of the Lander on completion of the mission, which unfortunately for all concerned, failed.’
‘We had radio contact with the orbiter throughout the mission, although it is still not clear exactly what happened.
‘We know for sure that the Lander made it down to the surface, the crew suited up and left the Lander for a short exploration to see if there were any artefacts in the vicinity worth retrieving. None were found, so they returned to the Lander and took a rest.
‘The next excursion took place some five hours later, both crew members leaving the Lander as before, but this time they took an extra supply of oxygen to enable them to explore a steep sided valley which they had seen before the Lander went down.
‘They had radio contact with the orbiter, as we did, although there was a time delay between Earth and Mars which didn’t help matters very much. The explorer’s comments as they made their way to the valley were relayed to us, so we have a fully detailed account of what happened, up to a certain point.
‘There was a lot of static on the orbiter’s transmission for a while, and then we were informed that one of the explorers had disappeared. The other explorer tried to find the first one, but no trace could be found. The footsteps in the sand ended where he had crossed a flat slab of rock and didn’t appear on the other side.
‘The remaining explorer was ordered to return to the Lander for safety’s sake, so that an assessment of the situation could be made. He never made it back to the Lander. The last we heard from him was a gasp as he reached what we estimated to be halfway up the side of valley on the return journey.
‘The auto carrier wave transmissions from the orbiter ceased a couple of hours later, and that was the end of the expedition. No one survived.’
‘Just before the orbiter’s transmission ended, we heard a startled voice from the last remaining member of the expedition saying that he could no longer see the Lander. It had been obscured for several minutes in what he assumed was a cloud of fine sand blown up by the ever present wind, and when the dust cleared there was no sign of it.
‘Moments later his vocal transmissions ended. We were able to place the position of the orbiter quite accurately due to its steady location signals, but later these suddenly stopped, and that was the last contact we had from the entire expedition.
‘We can only assume that all three of the crew died and some failure in the equipment caused the Lander and the orbiter to break up, but we don’t know for sure what really happened.’ The Director paused for a moment, unable to hide the sadness he felt while recalling the events of the first manned landing on Mars.
Greg and the other four fidgeted about in their chairs, not knowing what to say for fear of saying the wrong thing, the silence being finally broken by the Director offering the prospective crew of the new mission a refill of their glasses.
The Director leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes as if he was trying to decide what to say next.
One of the crew took a larger sip of his drink than he had intended, the fiery liquid burning his throat as it obeyed the laws of gravity, c
ausing him to utter a muffled splutter.
This seemed to break the Director out of his reverie, as he straightened his back, leaned forward and began to speak,
‘Three years ago we sent another mission to the Red Orb. Being mindful of the last disaster, we took our time in constructing the ship and the Lander, testing every part possible to make sure there would be no mechanical failures.’
‘Every stage of the mission was carefully monitored and progress checked for any possible malfunction of the equipment, but everything worked perfectly. The mother ship arrived in Mars orbit on schedule, and took up a stationary position over the site of the former landing. High powered scopes scanned the area for any clues of what might have happened to the previous Lander, but there wasn’t a sign that it had been there, nor was there any wreckage of the orbiter. Not that we expected to find any really.
‘After forty-eight hours in orbit, the Lander was sent down with two crew on board, the other two remaining on the orbiter, to observe, increasing the chance of information getting back to us if anything went wrong. The Lander stayed put for twenty hours, and as nothing untoward happened, the crew emerged as the Martian dawn broke.
‘It was decided that the two who had landed should stay at least one hundred metres apart at all times, so that if anything threatening happened, the other would be able to observe and report back to the orbiter, and thence to us. Both explorers were equipped with video cameras so that pictures of their progress could be relayed back to the orbiter and a record of what they did would be available for future analysis.
‘We thought we had covered everything with regard to the exploration of the Martian surface, and to begin with, everything went according to plan. The old site where the previous Lander had disappeared was located using the co-ordinates recorded during the first exploration. There was no evidence on the surface of it ever having been there, but using ultra sound, the area was scanned and anomalies in the surface density were found.
‘Further and deeper investigation of the maps revealed another nasty surprise for us.’
The Martian Enigma Page 1
