by Unknown
'I missed you all,' Jessica said, gliding down the curved walls and into their greeting arms.
'Are all systems still green?' Gary asked.
'We're still going to Mars, that's for sure,' Jessica said. 'But we'll be leaving on the next orbit instead of the one after that. Don't take off your helmets.'
'The next orbit,' Lauren gasped. 'Why?'
Jessica shrugged. 'Don't ask me. I'm just a lowly lieutenant.'
'But we've only just begun to blow the nitrogen out of our systems,' Lauren said.
'They're moving us up because of our last instructions,' Jim said. 'They don't want us shooting our mouths off in front of the space station's personnel.'
'But Jessie's been here a week,' Gary said.
'I didn't tell anybody about the footprints,' Jessica said.
'What do you think of them?' Lauren asked.
Jessica rolled her eyes. 'I'll believe the Martians when I see them. They just looked like holes in the ground to me. I don't see what the president and his people are all shook about.'
'Shh,' Jim cautioned. 'It's me in particular they are worried about. The president probably felt I asked too many questions.'
'That's ridiculous,' Gary said.
'I thought the same thing myself,' Lauren said, agreeing with Jim.
'What about Lisa?' Gary asked. 'I wanted to talk to her. Does this mean we have to go straight over the Nova, Jessie?'
'We're not to leave here until Bill arrives,' Jessica said. 'But yes, then we're to go right over. None of you is allowed out of the axis.'
'Who's Lisa?' Lauren asked.
'I have equipment stowed here that I was supposed to collect,'Jim said.
'It's been taken care of,' Jessica said.
'Where's Mark?' Gary asked.
'Aboard the Nova,' Jessica said.
'Who's Lisa?' Lauren asked again.
Gary studied the passageway from which Jessica had emerged. 'She's a friend of the male species,' he said. 'Jessie, are there guards on the other side of that door?'
'Gary!' Jessie said, shocked.
'I thought you were in love with Kathy,' Lauren said.
'So I have a big heart,' Gary said. He turned to Jim. 'What do you think, buddy?'
'The worst they can do is have you shot,' Jim said.
Gary laughed and asked Jessica, 'Tell me, any guards?'
Jessica sneered. 'I'm not saying nothing.'
Gary poked her in the stomach. 'You just said it, mama.' He launched himself towards the exit. 'Catch you kids in a few minutes. Don't worry about my nitrogen, Doc. Lisa knows how to pop bubbles in the blood.'
'I do, do I?' a young woman with a ten-year-old's voice
asked. Lisa poked out of the chute and floated into Gary's arms. She looked like Kathy from California, only she had long red hair and longer legs. Not that Lauren cared. However, she did think it was disgusting of Lisa to embrace a grown man on the ceiling.
'How did you get in here?' Gary asked. 'I was told we were off limits.'
'You are,' Lisa said, her face flushed red. 'But the moment Colonel Brent dismissed the guards, he was called back to the control room to speak with Houston. He..."
Lisa didn't finish. Suddenly her high-cheeked face went bone white. Colonel William Brent climbed into the space-station axis. He stood on the ceiling like an ominous shadow, regarding Gary and Lisa with his usual stoic expression. He was a big man, powerfully built like Gary, with a roughly hewn handsomeness that gave the entirely correct impression of inner strength. Bill was the boss, no questions asked, and an expert in propulsion systems. He was also one of a handful of people in the world who understood the inner workings of Friend. He was a stern, seemingly emotionless man, and seldom spoke. However, when he did talk, Lauren listened.
'Why, Bill,' Gary said. 'Fancy meeting you here.'
Bill ignored the remark and addressed trembling Lisa. 'You are to return to your post immediately, young lady.'
'Yes, sir,' she whispered. She started to say something to Gary, but thought better of it and turned and fled.
'Catch you in a couple of years,' Gary called after her.
'Hopefully she'll be legal by then,' Lauren muttered.
Bill gathered them into a group in the center of the axis. 'I am pleased to see you all here and safe. As Jessie has told you, the Nova is departing approximately ninety minutes early, on the next orbit. We will taxi over and begin final systems checks.'
'AH my equipment has been transferred?' Jim asked. 'That is correct, Professor. Lauren?' 'What about my review of the hibernaculums?' 'You will do that after we break away,' Bill said. 'But what if there is something wrong?' Lauren asked. 'There will be nothing wrong. Gary?' 'You won't report Lisa, will you?' Gary asked. 'No,' Bill said. 'Not if you taxi us over now, Major.' That was agreeable to Gary. They re-entered the airlock and climbed aboard a low-powered rocket that resembled a golf cart that had been turbocharged by a mad scientist. Lauren studied the Nova through the ferry's windows as they drifted across the two hundred yards of space that separated the ship from the station. At the front was attached the Hawk, the spider-legged vehicle that would land them on Mars. In the Nova's center was the main body of the ship, where they would eat, sleep, and perform the various duties not specifically related to the exploration of Mars's surface. A multi-spoked wheel set on the most sophisticated ball bearings ever devised by man, the center section revolved around the spine of the ship every five seconds, creating a gravity at the rim of the wheel equal to one-third that of Earth's, which just happened to match Mars's gravity. They would reach the red planet with their bodies fully adjusted.
At the rear of the Nova were the fuel tanks and propulsion systems, comprising the bulk of the ship's weight. The powers that would hurtle them towards Mars were simple chemical reactions, the burning of liquid hydrogen in combination with liquid oxygen. Already additional fuel tankers were speeding towards Mars. When Project Nova had begun, many felt an efficient atomic engine could be developed. But the weight of the necessary lead shielding, and the uncertainty of working with new technology, had led NASA to chose the more basic chemical system. Their choices were more understandable in light of what the president had shown the night before. NASA had been in too much of a hurry to come up with something better.
Another outstanding feature of the Nova was a large antenna bowl located between the revolving wheel and the rocket engines. It was, of course, responsible for maintaining communications with Earth. It had no backup, but its builders swore the odds against its failure were astronomical - not the most comforting of expressions, Lauren thought, considering the astronomical distances they were about to travel.
In the Nova's airlock, fresh air gushed from the floor in welcome. Immediately Lauren noticed pain in her left knee and bent and massaged the joint. It was nothing but a slight muscle pull caused by the high G's of the shuttle blastoff, and she was not worried.
'I feel the same in my chest,' Jim said, noticing her discomfort.
'In your chest?' Lauren snapped her head up. 'Are you having any difficulty breathing?'
Jim smiled. 'Not at all. Just some tightness. I always have that after leaving Earth. It will go away soon.'
Lauren nodded. 'It should.' Because Jim was fifty-two, she always kept a special eye on him. 'Tell me if it doesn't, though. Be sure to.'
'Of course,' he said.
They left the airlock and floated down a narrow tunnel that was the equivalent of the space station's axis. Soon they reached the outer hub of the ship, moving once again within the domain of gravity. As they stepped into the control room, Mark Kawati, the final member of their crew, glanced up from a computer screen and smiled.
Mark Kawati was of Japanese descent, as short as Lauren's five-three, with a small round face and extremely crooked teeth. He was pleasant and smiled often, but he was unusually shy and kept mostly to himself. Since he would be left alone aboard the Nova while they explored Mars, his solitary nature was an asset. The l
oneliest man in the solar system, the papers were already calling him, comparing him to Charles Lindbergh. His field was engineering. Word had it that he possessed a photographic memory, and knew every pipe and pump in the Nova's propulsion system by heart. He was obviously very good with his hands. Once Lauren had broken the clasp on a necklace Terry had given her for Christmas. Mark had repaired it in minutes. Naturally she'd assumed he'd had experience with jewelry, but such was not the case. He possessed almost instinctual mastery in his specialty, and that specialty was to fix things that were broken, whatever they might be. His nickname was 'The Mechanic'
'Mark,' Gary said, shaking his hand. 'There is a gremlin attached to the aft fuel tank. Could you go outside and shake him off, please?'
'Hello, Gary,' Mark said, never sure where Gary was coming from. 'Is there really a problem?'
'No,' Lauren said, removing her helmet. 'That was cruel of them to leave you here alone.' She gave Mark a quick kiss on the lips. Mark blushed. Gary threw a fit.
'On the lips!' Gary said. 'And she calls herself a doctor. How disgusting.'
'Shut up, Major Wheeler,' Colonel Brent said flatly, bent over the manual helm controls.
Lauren released Mark with an affectionate squeeze and moved to the central computer console, where Jim was already sitting. Friend surrounded them - indeed, the entire ship could be said to be his body - but she always felt
most at ease looking at the main screen when she addressed the master computer. It was here alone, on a light blue background, that his printed words appeared in brackets. When Friend spoke, she almost heard those brackets.
Friend was part of the latest generation of intelligent machines - optical computers. He didn't contain a single circuit board or silicon chip. He was, rather, made up of a complex network of lasers, lenses, and mirrors, and was capable of making computations one thousand times faster than conventional machines. It had been a cousin of Friend that had mapped the complex human genetic structure. If he couldn't think, he faked it so well it was impossible to tell the difference.
'Hello, Friend,' she said. 'How are you feeling today?'
[Very well, Lauren, thank you. I trust your flight up from Earth was pleasant?]
Friend's voice was masculine, but high and sweet, reminding her of a member of the Vienna Boys' Choir she had once met at a big social gathering in Houston. Although the voice wasn't the least bit mechanical, Friend still sounded artificial because of his flawless pronunciation and utter lack of emotion.
'The trip was fine,' she said. 'Gary was in top form.'
[Gary is an excellent pilot.]
'Hear, hear,' Gary said. 'At least someone appreciates my greatness. Thank you, Friend.'
[You're very welcome, Gary.]
Through the Nova's windows, Earth was shrinking, a giant colored ball falling slowly into an endless black well. Six hours had elapsed since Nova's rockets had fired, adding twelve thousand miles an hour to their speed, and throwing them well beyond Earth's maximum orbital velocity. Because of the tremendous energy needed, the Nova would not cut a straight line towards Mars. Rather, it would bend outward in a gentle curve from Earth's orbit and intersect the slower fourth planet approximately three months later.
Gary never did get to talk to his parents, nor did Lauren get to speak with Jennifer and Terry again. Bill tried his best to obtain permission, and even went so far as to tell the president he was being illogical, but the powers that be had already made up their minds. Gary was upset, but Lauren accepted the situation philosophically. The goodbye at Cape Canaveral had been bad enough. Why go through it again?
Lauren kept herself busy. The hibernaculums were her particular concern, and she spent hours checking the metabolic sensors and priming the equipment with the life-supporting solutions that would be fed into their bloodstreams during the long sleep.
After the six of them had completed their respective duties, they gathered in the control room, and had the inevitable discussion on the Martians and their footprints. Gary, Jessica, and Lauren did most of the talking. Mark was content to nod his head and agree with whoever was talking. Bill sat silent and aloof, as if the discussion were beneath his dignity. Jim, too, for the most part, remained silent. When he did speak, it was only to ask how they had felt while looking at the Rover's pictures. The nature of the creature who had made the footprints did not seem to concern Jim.
Gary put forth the interesting theory that the footprints were created by beings not native to Mars. He fetched a half-dozen science fiction novels from his private locker as authoritative references. His notion was plausible since, as Jim had said to the president, conditions on Mars appeared too hostile for evolved life to develop. Jessica suggested that the footprints were made by the descendants of human beings who had traveled to Mars before recorded history began. Jessica was a great one for esoteric ideas. She even swore she had seen a UFO once. Lauren argued for a creature native to Mars, perhaps a being similar to the arthropod phylum on Earth, since the arthropods had adapted most successfully to the greatest variety of conditions back home. Everyone shuddered at her suggestion. No one wanted to meet a giant insect.
Finally, it was time for them to retire to their hibernaculums, and Lauren really got to work. Each person had numerous wires attached to their bodies to monitor their brain-wave activity, heart activity, and so on. Each had to be hooked up to two tubes that fitted into a previously implanted arm shunt similar to those that kidney patients used for dialysis. Human kidneys functioned poorly during hibernation; consequently their blood had to be circulated and filtered by mechanical means. During their filtration, the chemical that would reduce their metabolic rate - the Antabolene - was periodically introduced. Antabolene had been discovered in experiments with African lungfish. During the long dry summers in Africa, these fish burrowed into mud beds and their metabolism fell to a fraction of the normal level. What nature had given to the lungfish, science had been able to duplicate and improve upon. When Project Nova was in the formative stages, NASA had realized a tremendous amount of supplies could be saved if the crew was unconscious for the bulk of the journey. Yet the Antabolene did not induce the popularly depicted suspended animation. The drug merely allowed them to copy the bears, and sleep peacefully during the dark winter months ahead. The Russians had not had this blessing, and perhaps the mystery behind their disappearance was nothing more than insanity caused by too many games of chess. Terry had once written an article that said as much.
A couple of hours after putting the crew to bed, Lauren's duties were almost complete. Monitoring her companions' vital signs on the six separate screens above her own hibernaculum, she saw that all was going well. Nearby, Jessica and Bill were already asleep, and in the adjacent room, Gary, Mark, and Jim were about to join them. Lauren left her monitors and went to bid those three a final goodnight. But she was too late for Mark; he did not respond when she called his name.
'Sweet dreams,' she said, crossing to Gary. He smiled vaguely through the clear lid of his hibernaculum. She lifted the glass aside. 'I came to kiss you goodnight.'
Gary mumbled something she could not understand. Lauren leaned over and put her ear to his lips. 'Tell me,' she said.
'I wish I had you to keep me warm,' he whispered. Then his eyes fell shut. Lauren kissed him on the forehead and then lightly on the lips. She brushed his hair aside and stood staring down at him for a long time.
'I wish so, too,' she said softly, before closing the lid. He hadn't heard her, and it was probably just as well.
Jim was still alert. Her surprise must have showed as she stepped up to his hibernaculum, for he said, 'Insomnia. An old friend. I always take a while to doze off.'
Lauren checked his pulse. 'You're on your way, though.'
Jim nodded. 'Did you say goodnight to Gary?'
Lauren felt a pang of guilt. 'Yes.'
'That's good,' Jim said. He seemed preoccupied. Lauren thought of his puzzling attitude toward the Rover's pictures. If she didn't ask
him now, she might forget when they woke up.
'Are you thinking about the footprints?' she asked.
'The footprints.' He frowned. 'I guess we all are.'
'But they bother you for different reasons than the rest of us. Tell me, Jim, what is it?'
He smiled his kind smile. Except for the faint colored glows of buttons and dials, and the soft hum of equipment, the Nova was dark and quiet. For the first time, Lauren felt the full impact of having left Earth. Yet Jim's nearness was comforting.
'When I was a child,' he said, 'someone donated a telescope to the orphanage where I lived. I was interested in astronomy already, and the instrument was like a gift from heaven. Almost every night I would go out and look at the sky for hours, especially when Mars was up. For some reason, it always held a special fascination for me. Of course, the telescope could show scarcely any detail on the planet. But I had heard of the famous Martian canals, and for a long time I tried to see them. I must have been about ten at the time. There was no halfway knowledgeable adult around to tell me there were no canals. So I kept searching, night after night, and eventually I saw them. Quite clearly, if I remember right. I was so happy. I could hardly sleep for thinking about them. I would stay awake and imagine how great the Martian engineers must have been to construct canals that circled their entire planet. But not long after that I read a library book that said the canals were an illusion. The book said that the famous astronomers, Lowell and Schiaparelli, had only imagined that they had seen them. I was disappointed, but in time I accepted the reality of the situation, and stopped seeing them myself. But even as a child I often wondered how such a great astronomer as Lowell, with a respectable telescope, could have made such a stupendous error. The theory that they were generated by his technique of occasionally placing a diaphragm over the lens of his telescope never made sense to me. In this technique - it's called "stopping down" - two bright patches sometimes bleed a dark line in between them. But you see, Lowell not only saw the canals, but drew intricate maps of them. Stopping down would have produced two or three illusionary images at best. No, Lowell saw the canals he drew on his maps, there is no doubt in my mind. Once he said that the more he looked at Mars, the clearer they became to him. And he wasn't alone. Several others confirmed his sightings.' Jim paused. 'Yet there are no canals.'
