The Clouds of Venus: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q. Morris

  Shortly after that the door opened and they entered. The airlock closed automatically behind them. A whooshing sound told him that Venus’s air was being pumped out. The sound was at first loud, then decreased in intensity, because the air became too thin to conduct soundwaves. Maria took him by the arm and shook him—he’d zoned out and had not even realized that the inner door was open. They had arrived. This place would be their home for the next few weeks.

  Peter looked around curiously. It was much brighter than in the entrance area. The ceiling and walls shone light gray, almost white.

  “Look, over there!” Maria said, getting out of her suit. “That’s a huge number of nanoproducers!”

  Peter looked in the direction that Maria was pointing and was surprised. Several RB robots were in a kind of dock. They were obviously built for work on the surface. If they were in the base, then it was only for being repaired.

  “The nanofabricators don’t seem to work stably for long periods under Venusian conditions,” he said. “That’s why they needed this workshop cave with Earth-like pressure conditions. This was probably the first task the mining robots were assigned.”

  “Where do we sleep?” Maria asked.

  “There’s a narrow passage in the back,” Peter replied, who now longed for a bed after all they’d been through. They found a hygiene facility behind the corridor. RB had treated them to a toilet and a shower. To the left and right were cabins, each containing a thick mattress made of soft synthetic material with a thin blanket on top.

  Peter was satisfied. That was all they needed at a room temperature of about 26 degrees. Maria, however, looked anything but happy. But she didn’t say anything. “Would you like to shower first?” he asked.

  “Thanks,” she replied with a smile.

  “If you don’t mind,” Peter said, who was still in his suit, “I’ll take a look at the wall.”

  “I really don’t care either way right now.”

  Peter walked to the other end of the base, where there was another, much smaller airlock. He entered it. The air-exchange time was short but felt like an eternity. He was finally able to leave the airlock. He found himself in darkness again. What was wrong? Why was it dark? He knocked on his helmet, then realized that the sensors were still looking for the optimal settings. A menu in the visor offered a variety of modes. Out of habit he chose the spectrum of visible light. Immediately several lamps turned on and provided optimal lighting.

  The exposed area was not large. He estimated it to be 50 by 30 centimeters. The photo they had been shown of the exposed section of wall was an inferior reproduction of the artifact, but somehow the artifact had seemed much larger in the photo. Peter felt the wall with his fingers—in reality, the laser sensors in the outer skin of his gloves felt the section of wall.

  No, the lines on the wall were not painted. Instead, they had been carved into the surface, but only a tenth of a millimeter deep. Nevertheless, it was surprising how visible they were. The robots had probably cleaned the wall. But how had the mining robots, which were meant for rough work, even noticed the wall?

  Peter scratched the surface, but nothing happened. He then scratched the area next to the wall. This time he left a mark. Aha! He searched the wall and found a tiny hole that had been bored. The robots must have registered the sudden increase in material hardness and cautiously investigated it. Perhaps they had expected to find a new diamond deposit.

  He took a couple of steps back and studied the little piece of exposed wall intently. Was this a script, or something ornamental? But wouldn’t an alien studying some of Earth’s languages think that their scripts were ornate designs rather than writing?

  Peter sent the pictures to the computer. The result of the analysis was clear. The patterns showed more repetition than was evident from looking at the photos. He went through the results in detail. What was noticeable was that the lines differed in length, but had innumerable angles, each measuring about 108 degrees.

  His fatigue gradually overpowered him. He could not do much here at this point. First, the robots needed to significantly increase the exposed area of the unusual wall surface. He would ask Marchenko to order that, and then get to bed.

  June 10, 2079, Venusian Atmosphere

  ‘Life Discovered on Venus.’ Their CapCom, Barbara, had transmitted the headline of Earth’s most influential media outlets to them, and nearly all of them sounded similar. The story was a bit exaggerated—as was to be expected, and missing the questions that Nuria was still posing. NASA had held an online press conference the previous night concerning Nuria’s findings. For today another event was planned where Nuria would be on the air.

  In reality, this meant that a recorded speech would be played, because a live conference with the Venus expedition was not possible due to the delay caused by signal transit time. Nuria protested at first, because she would rather devote her time to the research, but eventually she had to comply. She was currently working on a draft of her presentation.

  “Commander to spaceship, please report.”

  “Good morning, Chuck,” Ethan replied.

  “You guys have caused quite a stir,” Charles said.

  “As far as I’m concerned, they could have waited till our return,” Ethan said.

  “I think someone feared that the Russians would release the story first,” Charles said.

  “Well, they need not have exaggerated so much.”

  “You might be right.”

  “Because the findings have been made public, I am obliged by our agreement to give Tarasov details. He has promised interesting data if I send him Nuria’s results before they are published, which will be in a few weeks.”

  “Well, you’re better at judging whether we need their information.”

  “As commander, I’m responsible for the success of the expedition. For that, we need every piece of information we can get.”

  “I see, Chuck. Well, then—”

  “I don’t understand the science, though. Can’t Nuria talk to him?”

  “You’re welcome to ask her, but I’d advise against it. She already has enough pent-up frustration, because she’s constantly being kept from doing her research,” Ethan said quietly.

  “Erik?” Charles asked. “What about you?”

  He crossed his arms. “If the information from Tarasov leads to a trip, then I’ll be the first to go outside, okay?”

  “So be it,” Charles said.

  “Okay, then, I’ll put something together for your friend Tarasov that will satisfy him.”

  “Thanks, Erik.”

  Nuria had collected an incredible amount of data. She must have worked straight through the last 24 hours. He envied her a bit. She was the first human being to have discovered existing life on another planet—as opposed to a moon—in the solar system. Although it was known since the ILSE’s long journey in the 1950s that the moons Enceladus, Titan, and Io were home to life, Venus, in particular, was considered to be a barren, blazing hell. They had been more hopeful of finding life on Mars, but that had proven to be a dud a long time ago.

  Erik scanned the graphics that Nuria had created. One could say with a fair degree of certainty which elements made up life on Venus, certainly something that would interest Tarasov. Nuria had also drawn structural formulas of the more common molecules. But there was still a lot missing. Above all, they did not know the precise details of how life on Venus functioned.

  Nuria’s proof was quantitative. She had shown that certain substances were transformed into others, transmuted in a fashion that suggested biology was at work here, not chemistry. But they still didn’t have images of the cells, and they had no idea how the cells were constructed and which of their components were responsible for which processes.

  It was still possible that it was a big mistake, based on a series of coincidences, although Erik had to admit that the likelihood of it being multiple coincidences was very low. Still, it was brash, and unquestionably premature, for NASA to p
resent everything as fact rather than speculation. It wouldn’t be the first time that a finding considered to be proven turned out to be erroneous.

  He hoped Nuria would not fall into this trap. How could he warn her without her believing that he begrudged her this success? But she probably knew of the risk herself. Erik copied some of the graphics into a new document and commented on them in his own words. He provided Tarasov with enough information to receive an impression of Nuria’s findings, but not enough to steal her discovery—at least as long as the Russians didn’t also send someone to perform research in Venus’s clouds.

  But they seemed to have set their sights on ground research. It was a strange decision, one that Erik could hardly believe. On the other hand, the RB Group would not bother to invest their money in such an expensive ship if it did not assume that the mission was well worth the expense.

  Perhaps, he pondered, RB is not concerned with the search for life, but with something completely different?

  June 10, 2079, Venusian Surface

  “I’ve analyzed your data,” the AI reported, as Peter came out of the shower area.

  “I’m listening,” he said with bated breath.

  “It’s fascinating. Apparently, the lines form pentagons that repeat in different sizes and overlap each other. That was easy to miss in the small section. In the meantime, a larger area has been exposed. But the robots’ data point toward infinite repetition rather than new characters. Only the length of the lines and the size of the angles vary.”

  “And what does that mean?” Marchenko had no doubt already sifted through all the possibilities.

  “It is highly unlikely that these characters are an alphabet, unless someone carved the same letters over and over again, such as the name of a deity. But we should also consider two other possibilities.”

  “I agree,” Maria said.

  Peter turned to her. Maria must have just gotten up and overheard at least some of this.

  “Maybe they lacked the ability to always carve exactly the same length and angle,” Marchenko said.

  “And what if it’s something like a termite mound? What we have interpreted as carvings could then be the paths that the creatures traversed,” Maria suggested, the excitement evident in her tone of voice.

  “That is a possibility, but not very likely, given the pattern. We will not know what it is until we find a beginning or an end. Or until we discover an opening or open the wall ourselves.”

  “Let’s first look for the beginning and the end,” Maria said.

  “That may take us a long time,” Peter argued.

  “Maria is right, though,” Marchenko said. “Before we open something, we need to know what to expect. And if it was formed by a natural process, we have to be extra careful.”

  “Exactly,” Katarina said.

  Peter looked at her in surprise. Why does she place such importance on this? “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “I’m responsible for your safety. There must be no contamination. But first you need to eat something. I have prepared breakfast for you.”

  Peter laughed. “A meal comes before science. But I don’t believe that we’re in danger. The temperatures that prevail here would kill all life.”

  Peter and Maria were seated at the breakfast table a short time later. Katarina had gone out of her way to make a tasty meal. She had programmed a bunch of nanofabricators to produce the most delicious dishes possible. If Peter had not known that it was artificial food, he would have thought it was made from fresh ingredients.

  “Tell me, Marchenko,” Maria asked with her mouth full. “How long will the robots need for the excavation?”

  “It’s hard to say. Shostakovich gave me three robots. One digs, another one brings the excavated rock to the canal, and the third distributes it on the surface.”

  “So we have a few hours?”

  “I think so, Maria. What are you planning?”

  “I’d like to explore the area with Peter.”

  Peter nodded. It was comfortable down here, but due to the lack of space, he felt as if he was being crushed. They had spent time in several small enclosed spaces, first in the RB bunker, then in the spaceship, and now in the base. It would be wonderful to finally see the sky again.

  He hurriedly ate his breakfast. “Katarina, are you coming with us?” he asked.

  “I have a lot of things to organize, so I will stay here. We will keep in touch via radio.”

  “Taking such a stroll on Venus is something special,” Maria said, hooking the arm of her suit into Peter’s.

  “Yes. Note that it offers plenty of hard-to-calculate risks.”

  “Peter as I know and appreciate him,” she said, giggling. “Always optimistic, and through and through a romantic.”

  They climbed the lava mountain above the base station. The surface was even. Now and then a floe had caved in.

  “If only the light wasn’t always so dim!” Maria said wistfully.

  “Wait.” Peter switched his visor from the optical to the radar mode. Now he could see his surroundings in the terrestrial spectrum. The mountains were suddenly beautiful. “Use the radar mode,” he said.

  Maria pressed a few buttons on her suit and then turned around once. “Wow,” she said. “There’s even snow back there on Maxwell Montes!”

  “Those are sulfide deposits.”

  She boxed his side. “Hey, I know that.”

  “Let’s search for remnants of the wall here on the surface,” Peter said as he pulled a long pole out of his bag and attached a hydraulic impactor to its end.

  “What is that?” Maria asked.

  “This allows us to measure the soil hardness. The wall should be clearly differentiated from the rest of the ground if it reaches to the surface. But first we have to find the wall.”

  “Unfortunately somebody’s in our way,” Maria said, pointing at an RB robot. The machine was distributing excavated rubble onto the surface.

  “Dammit, it’s covering the ground we want to inspect!”

  Peter ran with big leaps toward the robot. He heard Maria scream, “No,” and then everything went dark.

  “Peter?”

  He opened his eyes and oriented himself. Slowly, he tried to get up. There was a stabbing pain in his back, but he was able to straighten up. Apparently he had fallen into a cavern.

  “Peter?”

  “I’m okay—just a few bruises. Don’t come any closer, though. The cavern seems to be quite large.”

  “Marchenko to the outside team. What the hell are you doing out there? We have a crack in the base’s ceiling, and the pressure is slowly rising.”

  “Peter broke through the surface and fell into an old lava bubble. Peter, how far down are you?”

  “A good five meters, but the cavern is larger than that,” he replied.

  “Is your suit undamaged?” Marchenko asked.

  “Just a few scratches. It hasn’t reported a critical error.”

  “Good,” Marchenko said. “We’ll get you out of there. But I need the exact size of the bubble. I don’t want the robots causing the ceiling to collapse. Due to the collapse, a crack formed in the base. Once you’re on the surface again, we’ll have to seal the chamber you fell into.”

  Peter was sweating. If only he could wipe his brow! He hoped that the base was not also in danger. He measured the cave’s dimensions and sent the data to Marchenko.

  “You can relax,” replied the AI. “You were just unlucky. The surrounding area is much more stable.”

  “Thank you, Marchenko. But how do I get back to the surface? I can’t just climb up, as the edges of the hole are almost certainly unstable.”

  “Wait,” Maria said.

  “And what about the base?” Peter asked via radio.

  “The pumps are managing to keep the pressure stable. However, the leak should not get any bigger. In addition, the oxygen content is sinking noticeably.”

  “Will we be able to fix that?”

 
; “Of course, it will just take a while,” Marchenko said.

  In the beam of his helmet lamp, he saw a rope end appearing from above.

  “Is that enough?” Maria asked.

  “If I climb up on that, I’ll just cause more rock to fall and make the hole wider,” he said.

  “You’re not supposed to simply climb up. My idea is that we first use the rope to get rid of the unstable parts at the edge of the hole by scraping the rope against it sort of like a nail file.”

  That’s a good idea. “Give me another meter,” he said. “Then I can stand on the end.”

  When the plastic rope had been extended far enough, Peter pulled it tight and put first one, and then carefully his second foot on it. In this fashion he worked his way toward where Maria held the upper part of the rope. His weight tore material from the edge of the ceiling opening, first a substantial amount, then less and less. Only a few smaller chunks hit him.

  “Step back!” Maria cried.

  He jumped backward in a flash. Only then did he recognize the danger. On the ceiling a crack had formed, and it was growing in slow motion. In 30 seconds a large slab would plunge into the depths. Dammit! How will the ceiling of the base station react to the shock?

  He resolutely reached for the rope and ran under the endangered spot to the other side of the bubble. “Marchenko, look through my helmet camera,” he radioed. “I need to know where the optimal position is for me to stand so I can catch the falling slab with the rope.”

  “I don’t know the mass distribution of the slab, but I can estimate the data and let your exoskeleton make the necessary movements. You don’t need to do anything.”

  “Okay.”

  The slab of rock detached, and his body in the exoskeleton moved back and forth without his intervention. The massive rock glided elegantly downward along the rope, but shortly before it got to the end it slid off the rope. Peter felt the shock. “Dammit! Is the base okay?” he asked.