Mission Mars

by Janet L. Cannon

  Inside the shuttle everyone was firmly strapped in and silent as they began to pierce the planet’s atmosphere. A giant roaring filled the cabin, but the crew was jaw-clenched silent, unlike the jubilant whoops and yells when they had blasted off of Earth.

  The Pegasus descended.

  As the ship punched through the Martian atmosphere, the virtual control screen indicated the outer heat shield was at 4,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite the relative cool inside, Calvin felt a trickle of sweat slide down his neck. As the first stage of “breaks” slowed the Pegasus, and with the assistance of the atmospheric friction, the ship’s speed was reduced from 13,200 miles per hour to a mere 1,000 miles per hour.

  But still, the ground rushed toward them.

  Outside, Mons Olympus, the tallest volcano in the solar system, dominated the western horizon. At twelve miles above the surface of Mars, the ship was already several miles below its peak.

  Seconds later, as they hit the seven-mile mark, the first parachute popped out in perfect form, with none of the dreaded tangles seen in some of the early simulation tests performed on Earth. The shuttle, still hurtling toward the rocky landscape, slowed by only another ten percent.

  A horrible, screeching noise followed, as if the shuttle were being wrenched opened like a tin can. The heat shield was breaking off, disintegrating, five miles above the Martian surface, as scheduled. All screens read normal. But, for the human autonomic nervous system, it was an impossible noise to ignore, despite every rational assurance that the landing was proceeding correctly. Finally, their speed fell from 1,000 to 500 miles per hour—the speed of sound.

  “One mile to impact,” the captain said. The parachute released, and the eight supersonic retro-propulsion thrusters began to fire, slowing descent with the sensation of heavy thuds. Down, down, down—500 to 100 miles per hour.

  “Time to find out if these $10 million shock absorbers work!” yelled the captain, as the landing gear curled out. The thrusters now balanced the ships speed to almost a hover.

  “Brace yourselves!” yelled Eric.

  Landing was a bone-jolting experience, but years of calculations paid off.

  They were alive. And on Mars.

  After the dust settled outside the shuttle windows, the crew stared, mesmerized by the unending red landscape, interrupted only by their shiny new homes.

  It took a few moments for the significance to sink in, and then they all began to shout with joy. The captain waved a hand, shushing them as he radioed back to Earth.

  “The Pegasus has successfully landed on Mars. Repeat, the landing is a success.”

  Seven minutes later, as Eric continued the power-down sequence, a sound from Earth. Ecstatic cheering from Mission Control.

  Per orders from the Landing Committee, Commander and Captain Stang smiled for the cameras installed in the cockpit, and announced, exactly as the script was written:

  “We have surpassed the moon. The human race has arrived on Mars. We are home.”

  The rest of the preparation to exit the shuttle went exactly as had been practiced, over and over, both back on the Earth training bases, and on their journey to Mars—until it was actually time to open the door.

  “Slight change in the rotation,” Anita calmly spoke into the mike. “Dr. Linden won’t be going out first.”

  Seven minutes later: “WHAT?” someone squawked. Forty million miles away, Mission Control was demanding, “Repeat. Pegasus, repeat.”

  But the crew was already lined up in the new order of the day, ready to take their first steps onto their new planet. Their new home.

  Calvin grabbed the handle to the outermost door with his gloved hand, the red landscape visible in the porthole. Then he looked at Anita. “Here we go,” he breathed out quietly.

  Calvin opened the door.

  And that’s how Dr. Calvin ‘FirstStep’ FitzSimmons won his nickname in a game of cards.

  RED CAMERA ONE

  Nick Nafpliotis

  Selected excerpts from the personal journal of Elliott Caufield, last surviving cast member of “Mars Explorer” Season 1.

  August 23, 2055

  Well, I’m finally taking the plunge of shame into reality television. I always told myself I wouldn’t do this, but a few hundred failed auditions can change your perspective on things. Every one of them ends with some variation of “You just don’t have the right look.” It’s a nice way of saying, “You’re a decent actor, but not quite good-looking enough for television.” Since I’m also not a good enough thespian to pull off weird, quirky, or just plain ugly, that sticks me in the purgatory of average with all the other waiters and waitresses in town.

  “Mars Explorer,” however, sounds like it might actually be right up my alley. The Explorer execs want people who don’t look too “Hollywood,” but still understand how to work with the cameras and take directions. Even though it’s a “Reality” show, there’s no way the studio is going to trust a record $6.2 billion investment to a bunch of amateurs. They need average Joes with above average acting chops … and I fit the bill perfectly.

  August 24, 2055

  Calling the auditions for Mars Explorers a circus would be a gross understatement. People were lined up around the judging centers for miles, cheering and mugging for the cameras as if they were on the ancient television show, American Idol. Once people from the E! Channel started interviewing the hopeful wannabe’s, that pretty much cemented the whole thing as a bonafide pop culture event.

  I feel bad for those poor saps. They don’t even realize that they’re only being allowed to audition so the world thinks this is an open casting call. Everyone in the industry knows that this thing is only going to go to people with some professional experience … which hopefully will include yours truly.

  I made it through the executive auditions that no one sees on television. Now it’s on to the real first round, the one with the celebs and NASA folks. Let’s hope this goes better than the last three years of my life!

  August 31, 2055

  I made it! Well, I made it to the big show, anyway. I’m going to be on the main television show where they pick the first group of what they called ‘normal’ folks to be on the Mars Explorers television show. There’ll still be scientists and terraforming experts (like ones who landed a few years ago), but we’re the ones who will be the driving force behind the show. This is huge. Even if I don’t make the final cut, the exposure should really help my career.

  If I do make the final cut … then, holy crap … I’m going to Mars! It’s nice to have some good, exciting options in my life for a change.

  June 20, 2055

  The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. I figure there’s not much point in keeping a steady journal since everything I do is being filmed, but I’d still like to keep a personal record about what everyone doesn’t see (besides the one on the Mars Explorer website that some marketing guy writes for me).

  Tomorrow, they will announce who makes the actual team. During our interviews yesterday, we got a look at the outside world for the first time in a long while. Seeing all those people with signs and t-shirts emblazoned with my name is the greatest thing I’ve ever felt.

  I guess there might be a career for me out there—if I don’t make the cut. But I’m nowhere near ready to give this up. Whoever makes this team will be part of the most famous group of people ever. Which essentially makes tomorrow the culmination of the most important audition of my life.

  June 21, 2055

  YES! I DID IT!

  I’ve been named to the official Mars Explorer team! I’d write more, but there’s a huge after-party I need to make in an hour. Need to look my best. This is the greatest day EVER!

  June 30, 2055

  If this is what fame is like, then I could definitely get used to it. I’ve slept with more women in the last week than I’ve been with in my entire life. They were all far better looking than a guy like me could ever hope to get. I’ve also tried a lot of stuff that I normally cou
ldn’t afford; I can definitely see how people get addicted to cocaine.

  I know that makes me sound like the cliché out-of-control rock star, but I promise, I know I’m fine. Besides, sex and drugs are fun, but neither one of those highs are as intoxicating as being on stage. The interview circuit has been everything I’d hoped for, and even more. All eyes are on me, and all ears are strained to hear my words. Amazing.

  The hosts and audiences even laugh at my jokes … although sometimes I wonder if their laughter is genuine or because I’m famous. It doesn’t matter. Much like the sex, it still feels amazing whether they mean it or not.

  August 9, 2055

  Today was the first day I had any regrets about this adventure. Training for this mission is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’m pretty sure that everyone else feels the same way, too. Even that coal-miner guy (I think his name is David), looked like he was going to pass out by the end of the day.

  The cameras keep me going, though. So, now that I have actual, real-life fans, I don’t want to let them down.

  They came for a show, and they’re going to get it.

  November 15, 2055

  Tomorrow is Launch Day. I won’t deny being a little nervous, but I’m also excited. Our crew is finally starting to work together, which is pretty amazing when you consider that we never get to be around each other outside of our training. I guess they don’t want the usual reality TV drama interfering with our mission prep.

  A couple of people on the team mentioned that they were having second thoughts about leaving earth, but David brought up a good point: What the hell has Earth ever done for us? I mean, sure, things have been great these last few months. But most of us are here because we had no other options, other than living a painfully ordinary life. After finally realizing my dreams of being famous, having fans, and having them hang on my every word, I’d rather not go back to my previously dull life … or become known as a complete failure.

  November 16, 2055

  The attention and media coverage for Launch Day was insane. The crowds that showed up to see us off, made The World Cup look like a grade school soccer match!

  As we left Earth’s orbit, I’ll admit to feeling a bit sad about leaving it behind. Especially since I’d finally become someone who people actually wanted to see, only to leave my audience millions of miles away. But after looking around our ship and seeing all the cameras, I got that wonderful, nervous feeling in my gut again. We’re on the biggest stage in the universe and everyone is watching.

  Now is when the real fun begins.

  December 4, 2055

  It took a while, but everyone has finally stopped pretending to be nice to each other and the fighting has begun.

  David and Craig got into it during breakfast, which I’m sure everyone saw during the broadcast. What they didn’t see was when David went after one of the cameramen and had to be restrained by two of the science guys. That fight was real. The one between Craig and David, however, was a little more staged.

  We get notes transmitted from the network giving us “guidance” on what our massive viewing audience is hoping to see. David and Craig don’t like each other much, but I don’t think they would have come to blows if the studio hadn’t suggested that they duke it out that morning.

  On a more mundane note, I still can’t seem to remember which portions of the ship have artificial gravity and which don’t. I got up late last night to take a piss, then decided to go to the kitchen to get a snack. On my way there, I accidentally wandered into one of the rooms where everything was strapped down. Next thing I know, my head’s slamming into the side of a water storage unit. Being able to float around was fun for a few days—now it’s just a colossal pain in the ass.

  December 16, 2055

  And now, the hook ups have begun in earnest. Any time we have a radiation warning and get sent to the shield rooms, you can guarantee that at least two people are screwing each other. I was pretty excited about scoring with Carmen, who is by far the best looking girl on the ship. My euphoria was a tad diminished, however, when I discovered that she’d already been with half the Science and Tech crew as well.

  I’m really not sure why she’s on here anyway. Most of us (aside from the science and tech folks) fit a basic mold: mediocre actors who aren’t good-looking enough to make it in Hollywood. Carmen definitely has the mediocre acting part down, but she’s also drop-dead gorgeous. She could easily be modeling or doing high-end escort service work. Why did she and her fake boobs have to come on board our ship and start all this drama? She couldn’t have done that just as easily back in L.A.

  December 25, 2055

  Got a sympathy lay from Carmen for Christmas, which is nice, I guess. Craig and Samantha, however, might have actually discovered true love. Those two are always whispering to each other and giggling like a couple of high school kids.

  The network said that the gossip sites back on Earth are calling them “Cramantha,” which sounds like some type of prehistoric bird.

  Good for them, though. Everyone deserves to be happy.

  January 21, 2056

  I know most people think that Craig and Samantha got tired of each other, or that Carmen broke them up. The truth, however, is that the studio transmitted notes saying that their relationship wasn’t sanctioned, of all things.

  What that really means is that “Cramantha” wasn’t interesting enough, but the directive was still the same. And for some reason, they’re actually going along with it. I don’t know why. It’s not like the network can punish us all the way out here. But sure enough, Craig was suddenly hooking up with Carmen, while Samantha cried about losing her true love in the Confession Airlock.

  Meanwhile, I’ve been receiving notes that the audience thinks I’m boring. One of those asshole producers even said that watching the ship get hammered by debris was more exciting than watching me interact with the cast. Well excuse me for not being a complete asshole or a total slut. What do they want me to do, start a fight or something?

  February 5, 2056

  Today, Samantha was found dead in her room. None of us know what happened. When she didn’t come down for breakfast, Craig went to check on her and came back bawling his eyes out.

  The medical staff is still trying to figure it out, but it might be a while before we have a cause of death. We’re all pretty sure it was suicide, though.

  I decided to give a speech to the crew about sticking together and not letting this hurt us. Everyone seemed to appreciate it … especially the network execs, who said that my numbers have started tracking a lot higher.

  February 6, 2056

  I’ve never been very good friends with Craig, but figured that he needed someone to talk to. I sat him down in front of one of the main cameras, put my arm around him, and listened as he told me something that shouldn’t have surprised anyone.

  Apparently, the former couple still tried to meet in the one storage area where there wasn’t a good camera angle, but Carmen quickly put a stop to that. I don’t know why Carmen even cared that Craig was still in love with Samantha. It’s not like she really cares about him.

  After crying some more, Craig told me that he was going to break things off with Carmen. That threw me for a bit, especially considering that he’d basically admitted to cheating on her already. Even if he hadn’t outright said it, his temper tantrum at breakfast that morning—complete with eggs thrown against the dining area entrance—made it pretty obvious to everyone.

  February 7, 2056

  The last twenty-four hours have been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. You would think being on a spaceship heading to a new planet would be strange enough, but discovering that a murderer is on board can easily overshadow that.

  Looking back on it now, I don’t know why any of us didn’t suspect that Samantha had been killed. Maybe it’s because the only additional crew we have with us are scientists and technicians. There’s an extensive medical staff, but none of them eve
n considered the possibility of foul play. And even if they had, it’s not like any of them had a background in forensics or interrogation. How were we supposed to know that Carmen, the requisite, ‘hot crazy chick’ was actually a stone-cold sociopath? Now, that’s some scary shit.

  She’d been careful the first time, blacking out the cameras and waiting until Samantha was asleep before suffocating her to death. With Craig, however, it was a pure crime of passion. They’d gotten into a fight and she stabbed him with a knife from the kitchen. In the heart. Killed him instantly. Everyone on earth saw it. Even so, the producers never said that we had to do anything about it. Actually, what choice did we have?