First Landing

by Robert Zubrin

  The Chief of Operations disappeared from the TV and was replaced by a NASA logo.

  Townsend turned to face her. “Well, there you have it, Doctor. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

  “Horse’s ass is more like it.”

  McGee chuckled. “Rebecca, I’m surprised at you. Such language.”

  “I’m a scientist. I always use accurate language.”

  Next, the image of Mission Control’s Al Rollins appeared on the monitor. “The Mars Society in Boulder is continuing the debate right now about the Martian life question. Thought you might be interested, so we’re uplinking it to you live.”

  Rebecca grinned and winked at McGee. “Oh, this oughta be good.”

  The image switched to a panel of scientists on the podium of the Glenn Miller Ballroom at the University of Colorado. Lev Chelovkin, of the Russian Institute for Space Research, was talking. “Over the years we have devoted a great deal of discussion to problems of biological experiments. But the subject was sort of hung up in the air. Does the as-yet-fruitless search for life on Mars retain the same priority that it had at the time of Viking?”

  Rebecca scanned the panel and predicted correctly that Chuck Stein would answer this largely rhetorical question.

  “Let me attempt to answer your inquiry, Dr. Chelovkin,” Stein said. “In pursuing further life detection experiments on Mars, we should be looking at sites of greater potential interest than the ones that received cursory study during the Viking mission. Unfortunately, the Beagle’s landing site is far from the most optimal areas for a life search. In any case, I feel that the chances of finding extant life are very, very remote. While I think that biological experiments should still be done, given the large number of other important scientific questions that can be usefully addressed by the mission, the search for life should receive only a secondary priority.”

  “Thanks a lot, Chuck,” Rebecca commented dryly. So much for old friends.

  Now Magorsky of the USGS was talking. “It’s too bad that the mission did not land near the North Pole’s eroded areas, which extend down from the icecaps through the layered terrain. On Earth we have made remarkable finds by drilling through the Antarctic icecap, and there may well be living organisms at different levels of the icecap on Mars.”

  Even Townsend reacted to such absurdity. “They want me to land on the polar icecap? Right.”

  “Well, I guess you blew it there, Colonel,” McGee joked. “What were you thinking as we were careening through the atmosphere?”

  Rebecca regarded her crewmates. Perhaps they were beginning to understand what she’d always been up against.

  Magorsky continued. “But since the Beagle is near the equator, the best place to look would be near lava flows, which release water. On Earth, we frequently see lichen established just a few weeks after a lava flow has cooled.”

  Rebecca hit her forehead in mock chagrin. “If only I had known. Colonel, could you please arrange for a small volcano to erupt, say fifty kilometers from here? It doesn’t have to be very large, but please set it off in the early morning, so we can drive over there in daylight.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Doctor.”

  “Chuck, Harold, aren’t you a little close to romantic wishful thinking here?” Rebecca recognized the condescending tone of Norm Harwitz, a cantankerous old pedant. “The Viking experiments were quite conclusive. Despite some people’s wishful thinking, there is no life on Mars, and the expedition should not waste any time looking for it.”

  There was a comment from the floor, Carol Stoker from NASA Ames. This should be fun, Rebecca thought. “Now wait just a minute, Norm. You are interpreting the nondetection of life by the Viking biology experiments as the confirmation of nonlife on Mars—that does not follow at all. Viking found extremely oxidizing conditions in the surface. It indicated that peroxides were present. It showed that there was a metabolic-like activity going on in the Martian soils. The Viking team’s experiments did not show life, but they may have had signal-to-noise problems. They may have failed to detect life because they were too impatient to incubate a spore long enough to wake it up. The point is, they did not prove that there was no life on Mars—far from it. And to claim that they did, constitutes an unfounded, unscientific assertion.”

  So there is intelligent life on Earth. Rebecca had to cheer. “That’s the way to tell ’em, Carol.”

  Another panelist took the floor, Oleg Galenko from the Russian Institute of Medical/Biological Problems. Rebecca muttered, “I doubt he’ll provide anything useful.”

  “Never, up until now,” Galenko said, “have people had so rich an occasion to examine the essence of man as today, in connection with the conquest of outer space. Therefore, recognizing outer space as a part of the environment, in attempting to know Mars, to a great extent we begin to understand mankind, man’s place in the universe, man’s place in the world, man’s origin and man’s future, what man really is, and how in essence he has to live.”

  Yuck! Rebecca turned to McGee. “Why do I always have to be right?” The historian shrugged sympathetically. She returned her attention to the TV.

  Staritsa was next. An intelligent fellow, but irritating. “There are no secrets here, except for the secrets of nature itself, and to discover these we have set off to Mars. Finding life is not the issue. The most interesting things on Mars are the things that man does not yet know. Maybe men will see on Mars that which no human mind could possibly have imagined.”

  “In this day and age I have to listen to this chauvinist crap?” Rebecca vented. “They just don’t get it. ‘Understanding what man really is,’ ‘Maybe men will see that which no human mind could possibly have imagined.’” She shook her head in disgust.

  Now Harwitz spoke again, his voice like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Getting back to the subject at hand, the fact of the matter is that Dr. Sherman and Professor McGee searched the dry lake bed and found no evidence of life—past or present. And, Dr. Stoker, I remind you that my evaluation of the Viking results is not idiosyncratic. The large majority of NASA’s Mars Science Working Group agrees with my results. The question of life on Mars is a dead issue.”

  Was there no one on the panel that would rebut this? Ah, Carl Shaeffer.

  “Nevertheless,” Shaeffer said, “although I recognize that my position is a minority one in the scientific community today, I must insist that the paramount question with regard to Mars is the search for life. We are morally obligated to give it our best shot.”

  McGee turned to Rebecca. “At least it seems like the grand old man of Mars agrees with you.”

  “I should hope so. I did my doctorate for him at Cornell.”

  There was a question from the floor. The TV showed a heavily pierced young man in the dark brown clothing of an ecogoth. “Dr. Shaeffer, to change the subject somewhat, how do you feel about the ethics of human colonization of Mars?”

  “That’s a very interesting question,” Shaeffer responded. “In the short run, and speaking as a scientist, I believe that it is very important that we avoid the premature spread of terrestrial biota that might confuse the results of the search for native life. However, in the longer view, and speaking as an environmentalist, it seems to me that the action of converting the dead or nearly dead surface of the Red Planet to a new lush and diverse biosphere would be the most ethical thing humanity could possibly do. It would be an enormous positive act of environmental improvement on behalf of the whole community of life.”

  “Excuse me sir, but as an ecogoth I must disagree with your flagrant humanism. It is one of the central findings of ecogothic science that all human actions that affect the environment are intrinsically harmful. This must be so, because human motivations are by nature homocentric rather than cosmocentric. Therefore, your claim of a possible positive cosmic environmental role for the human species is a clear self-contradiction. Furthermore . . .”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes in disgust. “Ecogoths. Noir-minded adolescents stri
king an ultra-environmentalist ‘cosmocentric’ pose. Antihumans would be a better term.”

  Just then, she heard the sound of the lower airlock outer door opening and closing.

  “The rover team has returned.” Townsend pushed a button that muted the TV, which continued to show images of scientists and the public debating.

  Gwen entered the galley, followed by Luke Johnson hauling a bag of rock samples on his back, like Santa Claus carrying a sack of toys. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

  Rebecca confined herself to a single dry comment. “It’s not Christmas,” she observed. Luke just shrugged.

  “Did you find anything?” Townsend asked.

  He obviously had. Rebecca could see it by the triumphant expression on his face. This could spell trouble. A modest geologic find could divert the whole mission from what should be its true scientific purpose.

  “Anything?” Luke dumped his samples onto the table. “Why, just about every type of metamorphic rock money can buy. And even some that it can’t.”

  The rocks on the table were an assortment of some of the finest crystals Rebecca had ever seen. McGee picked one up. “Some nice gemstones here.” An understatement. Luke was clearly enjoying himself.

  “That’s right, partner. The little rock you’re holding there is a three-ounce ruby. And that one’s a topaz, and that’s an emerald.”

  The find was incredible. For a moment Rebecca let her scientific curiosity get the better of her. She picked a very unusual crystal out of the group. It was translucent, violet, and a perfect tetrahedron. She had never seen anything like it. She held it up. “And this?”

  “That, little lady, is a gem with no terrestrial equivalent. And guess what? It’ll scratch diamond.

  That got everyone’s attention. There were several seconds of silence, finally broken by Townsend. “Let me get this straight. You’ve discovered a rock that is harder than diamond? That can be used to cut diamonds?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, this is excellent. Why, this could be of some practical importance!”

  Townsend would fall for that. Industrial stones. Ready-made practical applications. As if discovering clues to the nature of life itself had no practical importance.

  “Colonel, partner, you have a gift for understatement.”

  All right, enough was enough. Is this a scientific expedition or an Easter egg hunt? Rebecca turned to Luke. “Did you find anything that provides clues to the nature of the planet’s tectonic activity? Rift-formation processes? Any evidence for recent volcanism, recent hydrologic activity of any kind?”

  The geologist gave her his best condescending smile. Rebecca found it completely enraging. “Hold your horses, little lady. This was just our first geologic sortie. We’ll get to all of that in good time.”

  “Did you get any good visuals?” McGee asked, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air.

  “We got some beautiful views of the mountains,” Gwen answered dreamily. “And coming back we passed the most gorgeous little box canyons you ever saw. Just like the old strip mine gully I used to swim in when I was a girl. We used to go at night sometimes, my sister and I, and swim by moonlight.”

  “I would’ve liked to have been there.” Luke gave Gwen a salacious smile.

  Instead of replying, Gwen kicked a leg of Luke’s chair, causing it to fall over and sending the big geologist to the floor of the Hab in a low-gravity crash.

  “Now mind your manners,” Gwen admonished. Luke got up, grinning sheepishly.

  Rebecca chuckled to herself. Bravo, Gwen. There’s hope for you yet.

  “Enough of that,” said Townsend. “Luke, Gwen, good work. Now get some sleep. You can write up a full report in the morning.”

  As the rover team started to leave, Rebecca called after them. “Gwen, what’s the rover’s status?”

  “Fully operational.”

  Rebecca thought quickly as the two explorers left the galley. The situation was critical, she realized. Timing was everything. “In that case, Colonel, I request that tomorrow I be allowed to take the rover over to the dry riverbeds near Maja Vallis to search for fossils.”

  “Well, Gwen will be needed here to help write the report.”

  “I’ll take McGee.” She smiled at the historian. His skills were not as useful as Gwen’s, but he was a lot more fun to pass the time with on a long rover excursion.

  “McGee’s not a trained mechanic, and neither are you. If the rover should malfunction—”

  “In the unlikely event of a rover malfunction, you can always send Gwen out in the reserve vehicle to help us. That was the procedure we followed last time. Why is Gwen’s nonavailability an issue all of a sudden?”

  Townsend shook his head. “You heard what they said in Houston. Their safety concerns are a bigger issue than they were before. I can’t let you go that far without Major Llewellyn.”

  Rebecca looked him in the eyes and made a conscious effort to control her voice for maximum effect. She had to change his mind. “Colonel, let me take the rover out tomorrow.”

  “I don’t see why it can’t wait a few days until their report is done.”

  Rebecca could see why. She had to make him see. “It can’t wait because when Gwen is done, then Luke will be done, and he’ll want to do another geology sortie himself. And with all the brouhaha he’s going to cause with these trinkets he found, he’s sure to be given priority by Mission Control. This might be my only decent chance.”

  “Dr. Sherman, these new gems are more than just trinkets. Possible applications for superhard materials could have major benefits for American industry. In any case, even if he’s given control of the rover for the next few weeks, what of it? We’re going to be here for a year and a half.”

  Rebecca shook her head. That was the problem. Everyone thinks we have a year and a half. “Not true, sir. In four weeks the dust storm season will begin. That could shut down rover sorties for up to six months, especially if this safety craze takes hold at Mission Control. Then, if the storms damage our equipment, we could lose the capability for long-range sorties afterwards.”

  “That’s a possibility, but . . .”

  Rebecca saw her chance. Add passion to reason, you can move him. But not too much—don’t blow it. She took a deep breath and focused. “Colonel, life on Mars is the real question we were sent here to answer. It’s the key to whether life exists all over the universe. It’s the mystery people have wondered about since time began. We’ve got to go look for it.”

  Townsend looked confused. “Those other scientists don’t seem to think so.”

  “But you know that I’m right.”

  They sat in silence, Rebecca directing her eyes into his, pleading but morally certain. Finally, Townsend stood up and walked to the window, where he stared out at the night sky. He looked back at her.

  This is my last chance, thought Rebecca. She allowed herself to give him a hint of a smile.

  “Okay, Doctor, you can go.”

  She closed her eyes and sank into her chair. When her hands loosened their grip on the armrest, her fingernails had made little dents in the upholstery.

  Townsend turned to McGee. “I don’t know how I get talked into these things,” he said apologetically, and left the galley.

  McGee watched him go and then turned to Rebecca, who was now smiling like an angel. “Wow. Remind me to take you along next time I try to sell an idea for a new book to a publisher.”

  Rebecca just wrinkled her nose at him.

  CHAPTER 7

  NEAR MAJA VALLIS

  DEC. 16, 2011 17:10 MLT

  OUT IN THE ROVER, McGee and Rebecca rode along a ridge overlooking the dry riverbeds of Maja Vallis. In preparation for frequent EVA, they were dressed in Marsuits without helmets or backpacks. McGee drove while Rebecca surveyed the dry riverbeds with a pair of binoculars. He glanced over at her, admiring the curve of her elegant neck—definitely the best date on Mars. Earth too, possibly.

  “Well, Dr.
Sherman, exactly what should we be looking for?”

  Rebecca answered without looking up from her survey. “I don’t know, exactly. That’s the hard part in all this. We’re looking for macroscopic remains created by large numbers of microorganisms, probably calcified.”

  “Like coral reefs, or the chalk cliffs of Dover?”

  “Could be, but probably not that obvious. I remember an expedition I took one time on Devon Island, looking for stromatolite fossils from the Ordovician, over four hundred million years old. We found them, but they looked like nothing you’d expect, kind of lumpy, bulging piles. Very strange.”

  “I see.”

  Rebecca gestured off to the right. “I wish we could get down into that dry riverbed. If anything was ever alive around here, that’s where it would have been. Drive a little closer to the edge so I can get a better look.”

  McGee studied the ground. It was unconsolidated regolith, not the best place to be taking chances. “I’d rather not. We’re pretty close to the edge already.”

  Rebecca smiled at him. “Come on, Kevin, we’re driving at ten miles per hour. Don’t be such a sissy.”

  Her smile made McGee feel both small and warm at the same time. There was no resisting. “Okay, have it your way. But I’m slowing down.”

  McGee cautiously steered the rover closer to the ridge edge. Rebecca peered into the valley, nodding her approval. “Ah, much better. See, no problem.”

  Suddenly the ground under the front right wheel gave way, causing the rover to tilt. McGee slammed on the brakes, but not quite in time. As he frantically shifted into reverse, the rover tipped slowly over the 40-degree slope of the gorge until its weight shifted completely, causing the scree to start sliding downhill, carrying the rover with it. Within seconds the whole slope began to tumble downhill in a roaring rush.

  McGee shifted back into forward and accelerated, steering madly, trying to maintain some degree of control in the low-gravity ride. A huge rock standing firm in the midst of the avalanche loomed up in front of the rover, and he barely managed to avoid crashing into it.