Ice Moon 1 The Enceladus Mission

by Brandon Q Morris

  Marchenko looked around, as much as that was possible in the stiff spacesuit. It was not by chance or accident that he was inside a crevasse. He had deliberately aimed for it, with the last bit of gas remaining in the SAFER backpack, so that he would not bounce off the surface of Enceladus during the expected hard landing, and drift back into space. That was the only way he could be sure the extra oxygen tanks would reach Francesca and Martin.

  He reached behind himself with his left hand and touched the ground. There is nothing there. They must have picked up the oxygen tanks. I hope my action has not been in vain. I do not mind that they have left me here. They probably thought I was dead.

  “This is Marchenko, come in,” he said over the radio, though he did not really hope for an answer. The radio module must be broken, because otherwise the suit would have automatically sent a distress call with his vital signs long ago. Yet I still have to try it. The devil is in the details. Maybe there is only a problem with the data circuit.

  The background noise did not change. He knocked against the lower part of the helmet with his glove. He could clearly hear the thumping sound. Marchenko looked at his lower body. He moved his legs. They reacted obediently and registered no pain. Ice dust and small chunks covered his suit. He shook them off. It is time to stand up.

  He leaned on his left arm and turned his body in that direction. Like an old man, he thought, I am standing up like an old man. He got onto his knees. The whole right side of his upper body complained with a nagging pain. But it was bearable—he had experienced worse agony before. He hoped this was only a sprain. He was on his knees now and first raised his upper body. Then it was time for his right leg. He was grateful his body weighed so little due to the low gravity on Enceladus. The left arm gave a little push, and then he managed to reach vertical.

  Marchenko wobbled a moment, and then he stood steadily. He felt drops of sweat running down his forehead. The fan ran faster. His heart was racing. He did not yet know why he had survived the crash, but that was not important now. He was alive, and the rest would turn out all right. He gazed upward toward the black sky. That was the next step. He had to get out of here. The crevasse should be only a few meters deep, he told himself. What did he need his right arm for? He could handle the two kilograms his suit weighed here with his left arm. Marchenko clenched his teeth. He was going to make it, because he owed it to Francesca.

  December 27, 2046, Earth

  “Bob, the next school class is already on the way.” Robert Millikan shook his head and sighed. He knew that Mary, the secretary, could not see his gesture, but he did not care. He ought to have time for breakfast, a muffin he had bought at the snack machine in the lobby. He removed a piece of paper and bit into the muffin. It was dry. He swallowed the bite and grimaced. This happened more and more frequently. Fewer and fewer visitors were coming, so the vending machine was restocked more and more infrequently. He had considered bringing his breakfast from home, but that would mean shopping after work instead of having time to read. After his wife finally moved out a few years ago, he had been able to completely focus on his books.

  “Robert, the teacher is really getting on my nerves.” He noticed a tinge of panic in the voice coming from the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. That's typical for Mary. She gets flustered over the most trivial things. Robert Millikan, 68, swallowed once again, crumpled up the rest of the wrapper, and tossed it into the wastebasket from three meters away. A hit! He stood up and cheered. The day had started with a good sign, like practically every day in the last few years. When was the last time he had missed a shot? It must have been ages ago—maybe back when he had come to the observatory, fresh from the university, curious about a future full of discoveries.

  He would not miss this job in the future. His days here were numbered. Two years from now he would have all day to devote to his books. Life could be so simple. Back then, over 40 years ago, such a life would have seemed a nightmare to him. Remaining all the time at the same place? How deadly boring! By now he understood that his location had nothing to do with him being content. By using his books he traveled faster, more comfortably, and ultimately spent less money. What use was it to suffer the heat of summer in India or be bothered by the flies in the Australian outback? His books could take him anywhere.

  “Robert!” Mary really stretched the ‘o’ in his name. She was in total panic. He knew she could not stand tardiness. What an evil twist of fate that she has to suffer me, of all people. She would probably be happy when he retired two years from now. But of all the researchers who used to work at the Green Bank Observatory, only a few had decided to give up a scientific career when the research institution had been turned into a science park for budgetary reasons. For over 30 years Robert had been a glorified tour guide, if even that, explaining to school classes how a radio telescope worked. Now, shortly after Christmas, it was peak season, as the boarding schools wanted to offer something to students staying behind during the short break.

  I really should get going. Robert opened the door of the small break room and entered the lobby, which had been given the grandiose name Science Center. But now it looked rather like the entrance of a cheap movie theater. There was a smell of popcorn that could be bought from a vending machine. The wallpaper was peeling, the display cases had not been fixed for ten years—there was no money for renovations.

  Mary waved at him. She was sitting behind the information desk. She has short hair and a neutral face, neither beautiful nor ugly. When word got around that his wife had moved out, she had made obvious advances. I am still glad I never reacted to them. He did not even know whether she had a family, though it was hard to imagine.

  “Come, come,” she called, as if he was a little child, and then she smiled at him. A thought stabbed his heart. Mary probably wanted to have kids all her life. He did not know why that thought had occurred to him now, but it was so tangible it must be true. The idea made him so sad he had to rub his eyeballs. He thought of his own son, Martin, whom he had not seen for such a long time. Maybe now would be the time to forget the hurt and to call him. But he knew it was pretty much impossible, right now.

  “Watch out!” Mary’s warning reached him just in time. The automatic sliding door once again had not reacted to his presence. He managed to stop just in time to avoid banging against the glass.

  “Shit,” he said quietly. His wife had always scolded him when he used that word.

  Outside was the bus belonging to the Radio Astronomy Science Park. The chaperone stood at the door of the bus and took care that none of her charges left the vehicle. She had wrapped her coat tightly around herself. The wind was cold, even though the winter had been rather mild, with no snow so far. Inside the bus, Robert heard the level of noise typical of a school class, which he initially had hardly been able to stand. He had gotten used to the constant chatter a long time ago.

  “So, you are finally here,” the woman said to him. She was young, under 30, he estimated. Maybe an intern, or perhaps a young mother. Schools have to save money, too. So they send anyone on these trips who can be spared. He shook her hand and looked at the name tag on her blouse. Her name was also Mary. How practical!

  “Hi, Mary,” he said. “I am Robert, but you can call me Bob. Let me show you the dish.” He made a sign for the woman to get in and followed her up the short steps. She was wearing a gray, smooth skirt. Through it, he could see the outline of her panties. He bit his lips.

  The driver held out his hand, and he high-fived him. His name was Ricardo, and he was Hispanic. Robert had never seen him outside the bus. He almost seems to be living there. Mary claims he sometimes spends the night in it. Yet Ricardo had told him of his family, so he must have a real home.

  “Let’s go,” he said to the driver, picking up the microphone.

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