The Titan Probe
Page 7
Well, she thought, let’s see what they have to tell us. She looked at her watch. She was right in the middle of her shift, but she wouldn’t bother to change, even though she really needed a shower.
When she entered the command module, she already recognized Devendra’s face on the fog display, transmitted from afar. Francesca flinched. She seemed to bring bad luck to men. The man from India survived the Valkyrie accident on Earth, but his dream of flying into space had come to an abrupt conclusion. In that incident she had steered the vehicle as the pilot. Of course, everyone later said she had not been to blame. She blew her nose into her handkerchief.
“Is everyone here?” The commander looked around and answered the question herself. “Well then, let’s get started; Siri.”
On the display, Devendra Singh Arora began moving his lips.
“Something exciting has happened on Earth, and I wanted to get your opinion about it,” he said. “A certain Robert Millikan contacted us and...”
“What was that name? Robert Millikan?” Martin jumped and barely managed to grab hold of a handle. He very briefly seemed to forget that CapCom could not answer him live, since the signals took hours to reach Earth and back again. Amy provided the answer by rewinding the message a bit.
“A certain Robert Millikan contacted us and reported a strange discovery. Millikan works as a tour guide at the former Green Bank Observatory.”
“The former observatory?” Martin anxiously interrupted her again. Francesca noticed this information seemed to shock him, but she had no idea why.
“Ssshhh!,” was all Amy said.
“We checked him out. He was once a serious radio astronomer about to embark on a great career, so at least he knows what he is doing.”
The CapCom is really beating around the bush, Francesca thought.
“By chance, Millikan recorded a radio signal issuing from Titan, but not just any signal. Something there transmits at 2040 MHz. This is the frequency used by the Huygens lander, which arrived in the Saturn system 40 years before you, and landed on Titan. The batteries ran out of energy after just a few hours. You are probably wondering how it then suddenly started sending signals again. We also pondered this question and could find no probable cause. Millikan had the Parkes Observatory in Australia confirm the signal, which was a clever move on his part, and also against protocol, as he did not go through the proper channels. Of course, we independently rechecked the data in several ways. The man was right. Something there is transmitting at 2040 MHz.”
Francesca instinctively knew what would happen next.
“And this is where you, as a crew, come in. You’ll probably agree this is very exciting news. We could send a probe there, which could check on it in five to ten years. Or you could take a little detour to Titan and check out this phenomenon yourselves. It would clarify things much sooner. We know exactly where Huygens landed back then, and the signal appears to come from that area. You could go down there in the lander and look around. If everything goes well, it would take you about three days.”
“If everything goes well!” Martin repeated the sentence and raised his eyebrows. Was he afraid?
“Of course the decision is all yours. We’ll understand if you do not want to run further risks and would just like to come home. On the other hand, we might never solve this puzzle without you. I am attaching a data file that Watson can use to answer most of your questions. Take your time and think about it. CapCom, over.”
For Francesca there could only be one answer—of course they would check it out. Titan was a fascinating moon. It was very different from Enceladus, much larger, almost like a planet, and with a dense atmosphere. She could be useful once more in her role as a pilot. Maybe she would save somebody’s life and eventually reduce her feeling of guilt. Or she would lose her own life, and then this whole problem would be solved. Francesca felt tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed hard and suppressed them.
“We definitely should use this opportunity,” she said with a throaty voice. She looked around. The others seemed to be less certain. Hayato gazed in the direction of Amy. He would not vote against the wishes of the mother of his child. Or would he? The Japanese engineer rarely shared anything personal about himself, to the point Francesca had a hard time gauging him. This also applied to the German, Martin, even though the two of them had spent a long time together on board Valkyrie. Usually he was calm and collected, but now he nervously drummed his forefinger against the table. Jiaying, who had just been assigned a new task, would probably abstain. Serving as the new ship’s doctor would most likely mean she would have to stay on board because of the baby—like Marchenko, who originally should have been exploring Enceladus with her. If the child had not been born... Francesca suppressed the grim thought. She noticed she was becoming unfair, and she hated it.
“What do the rest of you think?” The commander looked at each of them in turn. “Or should we sleep on it?”
“That is not necessary,” Martin angrily announced. “I am against it. We have already risked enough. Nobody would blame us if we were to continue the mission as planned. There is a piece of man-made garbage on Titan. So what? The lander was designed for Enceladus, no real surface, one-eightieth of terrestrial gravity. On Titan we will have one and a half times the atmospheric pressure of Earth, and the gravity is more than ten times higher than on Enceladus. The risk is too great!” Martin had really talked himself into a rage. Jiaying placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off. Surprised, Francesca wondered what was bugging him.
“Perhaps we could just enter an orbit around Titan and look from above?” asked Jiaying, trying to find a compromise.
“Not a chance. The haze is so thick we wouldn’t see anything. Perhaps in infrared, although I doubt the probe is warm enough for that,” Amy answered.
“As far as the lander is concerned,” Hayato said, while looking at a screen, “I just checked it out. This is a variation of the Mars Lander design. Therefore, gravity should not be an issue. They saved a bit of material here and there, but the basic structural integrity should be unchanged.”
“You are trying to say the thing won’t break?”
Hayato nodded. “Correct, Francesca. However, the atmospheric density is much higher than on Mars. On the surface it measures 1.5 bar. That is 50 percent higher than on Earth.”
“This sounds dangerous.”
“No, no. Not at all, Francesca. The pressure is about the same as at the bottom of a swimming pool on Earth. We just have to be careful during the descent. The Huygens probe had a heat shield and used the friction of the atmosphere and then parachutes to decelerate. We will have to employ the jets of the lander module. During descent we must not go too fast, to avoid overheating.”
“That would be my task,” Francesca said, realizing she was looking forward to it.
“If we decide on taking this detour,” the commander replied. “Are there any more questions?”
“What kind of timeframe are we talking about?” Martin leaned back and folded his hands over his belly. To Francesca, he resembled a petulant schoolboy.
“Five days, I would estimate. Reach an orbit around Titan, descend, inspect Huygens, lift off again, and return to a Saturn orbit—all this can be done in a day each.” The commander seemed to be ready and willing to fulfill the request made by Mission Control.
Martin did not answer.
“Alright, let’s vote on it. Francesca?”
“In favor.”
“I abstain,” Jiaying said.
Martin looked at his girlfriend and raised his eyebrows. “Against.”
“Hayato?”
“I think we can afford this little detour. We are researchers in the end, and this is a unique opportunity. Just imagine, we will be the first humans to set foot on three celestial bodies.”
“You forgot Bill Coleman, who was on the Moon and on Mars.”
Hayato turned toward Martin. “You are right, as always. Still, I am in favor of la
nding on Titan.”
This meant the decision depended on the commander’s vote.
“Well, then let’s fly to Titan. We should send our answer to Mission Control right away. They have already transmitted flight parameters, so we can start soon. Prepare for engines starting in one hour.”
So much for the rest of my shift in the garden, Francesca thought. Like the others, she had sixty minutes to check her assigned areas and her cabin. Once the fusion drives accelerated the ship, all objects not properly secured might start moving around. Tomorrow she would be at the controls again, and for a short time her life would once more have meaning and purpose. Francesca experienced a feeling she had almost forgotten—anticipation.
December 30, 2046, Enceladus
Water was slowly seeping into his helmet, and ice-cold drops hit his naked chest. Why wasn’t he wearing an LCVG? The water collected in the legs of the spacesuit and was climbing higher and higher. It reached his chin and he wanted to stretch, but he stood no chance. He closed his mouth to keep the liquid out, but he needed to breathe, breathe, breathe, so he tried to. The water poured into his throat, and it had an acrid taste of ammonia. He felt like he was choking and woke up coughing.
When it was over, Marchenko had to take deep breaths in order to return to normal. His eyes were watering, and there was a pungent smell. It was similar to the smell one sensed in a public men’s room where over time, superficial cleanings were not enough to mask the permeating stench of stale urine. Polnyi atstoy, he thought, what the crap? There must be ammonia in the air, more than the catalytic converter could neutralize.
Why wasn’t there a warning? Marchenko jumped up and walked to the cooling system’s storage container he had earlier connected to the primary circuit. He wiped his dripping nose with his sleeve. As a doctor, he quickly recognized the symptoms of ammonia intoxication. He would either suddenly lose consciousness, or he would suffocate from a pulmonary edema and then become unconscious.
It was not hard to find the leak—he only had to follow his nose. The adapter pipe sat more loosely than he expected. He needed something to seal it. A pipe clamp would have been perfect, but in the first place, he did not have one, and secondly, he would have to briefly remove the pipe in order to attach it. Marchenko checked the connection. The area was covered with rime. A wet cloth was obviously not going to be enough to make the necessary repair. He needed something that would not freeze. Perhaps an oil-soaked rag? That might work if he replaced the oil regularly.
He cut a T-shirt into strips. Before he dipped the cloth into the oil canister, he smelled it once more. Maybe Francesca had worn this T-shirt, but all he could smell was the acrid ammonia vapor. He wrapped the oily strip around the leak. It was not a perfect solution, but he hoped the life-support system would be able to handle the remaining ammonia in the air.
Marchenko went to the only active computer and checked the charging status of Valkyrie’s batteries. It was at 42 percent, more than he expected. He hoped the ammonia supply would be sufficient, enough to reach 100 percent, despite the leak. The air still stung his eyes. Perhaps he should try to help the life-support system. If he emptied the vehicle via the emergency exit, he would remove the poisonous gas at once. He remembered the lights in the ice. Maybe he could find out something about this phenomenon, or at least create the conditions under which others could do so. He should take a camera outside with him. There must be a camera here somewhere as part of the standard equipment.
He found one in one of the wall cabinets. The batteries of the camera were at half capacity. That would have to be enough. Gradually, the ammonia was making him nauseous. Before he put on the suit he checked the improvised visor. It still looked sturdy enough. He put a bit of lotion on the tip of his nose, so that it would not get frostbite, and then he prepared to exit. The air from the suit’s oxygen supply was pleasantly fresh. He took a deep breath, then opened the emergency exit and jumped outside.
The surface of the ice moon appeared to be the same—ancient as ever. Marchenko looked around and pondered the reason for this, since hardly any celestial body in the solar system had a surface as young as this one. Maybe it was his wrong, typically human perspective. He was not able to notice the subtle changes constantly happening around him. His brain was programmed for the hectic rhythm of Earth, based on an overabundant supply of energy, and not for the sedate pace of geological, chemical, and probably biological evolution found in this location, all of which had adapted to low temperatures.
He thought about the reports sent by Martin and Francesca. He had taken very little time to peruse them, but they were fascinating and told of a conscious being composed of numerous separate cells. Would he ever be capable of understanding the thoughts of such a creature?
Marchenko jumped into the water. He switched off his helmet lamp and the darkness surrounded him. It was a warm blackness. He never suspected something like this could exist. He was the only human being far and wide, but strangely enough, he did not feel lonely. Marchenko sighed—if he could only share this experience with others. He floated weightlessly in a dark infinity. The world was falling off him.
He looked in the direction where the wall of ice must be. At first, everything remained dark, but then the first lights appeared. He activated the camera, hoping it had sufficient light sensitivity. Marchenko looked at the display, but the image was blurry. Maybe he could focus it better with the built-in infrared laser. When he pressed the appropriate button, the image got sharper, but the lights disappeared at once. He fixed the focus position and once again switched off the laser. The lights returned. What did this mean? He did not know the answer and could only surmise. The laser emitted heat, and maybe that interfered with the processes responsible for these lights. The camera recorded what it could see, until after half an hour the batteries were exhausted. He was going to have the computer analyze the material.
An hour later he was back inside Valkyrie. He was relieved to find that the air was clean and fresh-smelling again. He checked the area where the ammonia leak had been and noticed his repair had been successful. Right near the leak he still noticed the acrid smell, but it was not nearly as strong as it had been before. To be on the safe side, he brushed some more oil on the fabric. Then he uploaded the camera recordings to the computer. He knew there must be a program for semantic analysis, and he found it. The software looked for hidden meanings and could distinguish random fluctuations, or entropy, from deliberate signs standing for a concealed meaning. The program could not translate the content, if there was one, as it lacked data. Yet it would be able to tell him how many semantic units were contained in a source, no matter how they were encoded.
The program would need a lot of time for this because the single computer it was running on was not particularly powerful. He guessed it would take a day, but his prediction was just that: a guess. Marchenko rechecked the battery level—47 percent. It looked like he would get a lot of answers tomorrow, and his oxygen supply was secure. So he would survive until his food supply ran out. For the moment, he was content with this knowledge.
December 30, 2046, ILSE
The hatch between the lander module and the spaceship closed with a loud plop. Francesca was glad the farewell ceremony was finally over. She sank into her pilot seat. There, she could not be seen from the side, and the others, meaning Martin and Hayato, would not notice she was crying.
“For what everyone assumes will be a short trip, it was a very emotional scene,” the German commented. Sometimes Francesca wanted to wring his neck. He had been protesting the whole time, insisting he did not want to be here, and only gave in to the majority vote by necessity. Francesca hoped he would pull himself together. When things got tough, they would need his full attention. This was no weekend trip by car, it was the first manned landing on Titan. Watson estimated the risk of something going wrong at about three percent. In spaceflight, this would have always been considered an acceptable value. Francesca was not worried about it.
“Tell me, Martin, what was that about Robert Millikan?” She had wanted to ask him this question ever since yesterday.
“What do you mean?”
“You jumped when his name was mentioned.”
“Really? No idea. I thought I had heard the name before. But it doesn’t matter.”
Francesca could tell by the vibrato in his voice that he was not telling the truth. Still, she would have enough time to find out his secret. And if not, then Martin was right. Then it really did not matter.
“All systems within nominal parameters,” the AI reported. The AI would control the ship, but Francesca could interfere at any time, and her commands would initiate the individual phases of the descent.
“Decouple from mothership.”
“Initiating decoupling from mothership.”
Watson had already calculated the entire mission. The plan resembled the landing on Enceladus. Since Valkyrie was missing, the lander module weighed only half as much. Due to the higher gravitational pull of Titan, though, they would use considerably more kerosene. Therefore they had placed an additional fuel tank in the empty scaffolding for Valkyrie. ILSE also was using a significantly higher orbital velocity than it had around Enceladus, and the lander needed to compensate. Additionally, Titan pulled them in more forcefully. If this excursion had been planned from the start, the lander would have been equipped with a heat shield. As it was, Francesca would have to use the engines to fight Titan’s gravitational pull to slow the descent.