“I can’t process that right now. I just want what I imagine to be reality. Your colleague from the university—what happened with him?”
“Are you asking if we’re together? No, he was married and wanted to stay that way. I had to accept that. That was the only reason I even applied for the Mars mission. And now I’m here. From a poor neighborhood under Sugarloaf Mountain, all the way to humanity’s first Mars base. That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
Lance had to agree. It was amazing. He looked back one last time at his tablet, but the screen had already gone black.
It was only a short drive to the Endeavour. Sharon drove the Rover herself instead of leaving the work to the autopilot. Lance watched her from the passenger seat. They were alone. Sarah had offered to take them to the ship, but neither he nor Sharon had wanted that. It would have just made their farewells more uncomfortable. This wasn’t anything significant, really, purely routine. They would fly into orbit, transfer a little freight, and return to the surface.
The final step, their landing, would be the most treacherous one, but even this had been practiced a thousand times. It was in this area that NASA had really profited from the private companies, particularly SpaceX and Blue Origin. For cost reasons, they had perfected the thrust-vector landing procedure. The old practice of a module landing in the ocean wouldn’t have worked on the dry Mars surface. Thanks to the planet’s much lower gravitational pull, however, it was significantly easier than on Earth to gently land on the surface with the help of the engines’ braking ability.
It was entertaining to watch Sharon drive the Rover. She sometimes stuck the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. She looked very focused and very calm, a completely different person behind the wheel, calm and prudent instead of spontaneous and emotional, as was her norm. In all honesty, pilots weren’t needed anymore, but Lance found he felt safer with her than he did with the autopilot.
“Did you also drive a Rover at the North Pole?” he asked when the silence grew uncomfortable.
“In Antarctica. At the South Pole,” she corrected him.
He bit his tongue to stifle a smartass remark.
“But, yes. It wasn’t all that different. There’s more than just ice down there. There are desert-like regions full of stones and debris, which are about as cold as it is here. The only difference is that you can breathe there, at least until you freeze.”
“And in the permanent ice?”
“That’s a different story altogether. I’m already looking forward to us researching the ice cap at Mars’s North Pole.”
“Why?”
“Here in the ever-present desert, the problems are presented by the things you can see. Take that boulder, for example. I can’t tell how large it is, but the laser can tell me, and so I know how far I have to drive to get around it. In the ice, it’s the obstacles you can’t see that present the problem. Antarctica is one giant glacier. You can find ten-meter deep ice caves that are only covered by a thin layer of ice. Even if you can see it with the radar, you have no idea if the layer of ice will hold. You often have to take long detours just to be safe. And, sometimes the overlay might be too thick for the radar, but still fragile.”
“Sounds exciting and dangerous,” Lance said.
“Absolutely. But as you can see, I’m still here. Everything is possible.”
“Will you take me along the next time you go to the South Pole? If you crash the Rover into an ice cave, I can repair the chain or transform it into a helicopter.
“It’s a deal,” Sharon said, laughing.
“There it is. Isn’t it pretty?” Lance observed.
They had just caught sight of the Endeavour in the gloomy twilight of a noonday Mars. The ship was standing in a mostly flat area devoid of obstacles. This spot had been selected as an optimal landing site by robotic explorers, before their arrival. The Endeavour’s nose was pointing proudly at the sky. Its curved lines looked feminine, and the fins on its sides added a note of elegance.
The Endeavour was standing on three support legs. A tube wound its way from between its legs like an umbilical cord, leading to a fully-automated fueling station that supplied the ship with nutritional matter which had been cultivated on Mars. This included fuel for the engine—comprised of oxygen and hydrogen—as well as oxygen and water for the life support system.
Sharon steered the Rover right next to the rocket. She had to park in a very specific spot. Acoustic signals indicated how far off she was from that mark. After three minutes of small adjustments, the beeping stopped.
“We’re here,” she said, although it wasn’t yet time to get out.
Before Lance was able to see that they were rising, he could feel it—they were being lifted up. A retractable rod raised the pressurized cabin up to the level of the Endeavour’s entry hatch. It jiggled slightly, as if they were being carried upward by elevator. Lance tried to see the base from their position, but either there wasn’t enough light, or it was too well-concealed due to their position halfway down the curving surface.
The pilot released her safety belt, which her seat protested with an irritating beep. Sharon ignored it and reached for her fat, leather travel bag.
Lance got up, too. All he had was one small plastic bag in which he had packed an extra pair of underwear, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a comb. What could Sharon possibly need for two days? A squeaking sound came from the back part of the cabin. An oval-shaped tube was now extending from the Rover to the Endeavour’s airlock.
Sharon pointed in its direction and said, “It’s about time.”
At that moment, an intensely green light flashed on, practically blinding Lance. “They certainly wanted us to see it,” he said.
“Nobody could ever overlook that,” Sharon agreed. She turned the wheel on the hatch to the left. “Let’s go!”
She dropped to her knees at the hatch and crawled off, sliding the bag ahead of her. The tunnel in front of them was so low that you couldn’t walk through it even if you crouched down. Crawling on your hands and knees for a little over two meters isn’t the end of the world, though, Lance thought. He moved into the tube, closed the hatch behind him, and followed the pilot.
Once he reached the Endeavour, he immediately recognized the familiar smell of the past six months. Either their recently inhabited Mars base was missing something significant, or they hadn’t spent enough time over there yet. In any case, the smell here was completely different from that over there. More engine oil here, fewer people, determined the mechanic in him. There were no oil stains to be seen—or smelled—in their base. It might be because of the life support system. The model on the ship came from the space technology industry, while the version for the Mars base had been designed by a renowned climate control manufacturer.
Lance glanced around. They had moved off the ship only five days ago, but it felt to him like much longer ago than that. The ship looked as if it had been abandoned for weeks. Maybe that was due to the dust that had gathered on the horizontal surfaces. In weightless environments, dust collected much faster in static electricity zones—and not on tables and shelves. With his sleeve, he wiped off the table they’d always used.
“We can clean later,” Sharon called from the upper level, where the bridge was located. She was already sitting in her pilot seat.
Lance climbed up the ladder. The overhead light was off, but the room was still bright because the many little lights on the console provided enough illumination. Lance felt like he was in a science-fiction film. All that was missing was Mike beaming a hologram of himself onto the bridge. Instead, he called the old-fashioned way, over one of the monitors.
Sharon brought up his image on the seat screen. “We’re ready,” she said. “I’ve gone through the launch checklists with the autopilot and am just waiting on Lance.”
“Where is he?” Mike asked.
“He’s been cleaning the kitchen, but I think I hear him coming.”
“Haha,” Lance s
aid. “You might laugh, but it’s really dusty down there. It’s enough to bring out your inner clean freak.”
“Whatever,” Sharon said. “I need you for the launch procedure.”
“First you want me in the kitchen, but now you need me up here?”
“You’re a real couple of sweetie pies. Can you just tell me when lift-off is?” Mike interjected.
“What did you say, Mike? ‘Sweetie pies?’” Sharon asked.
“Yes, ‘sweetie pies.’ Anything else?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll explain it to you when you get back.”
“Okay, deal,” Sharon agreed.
“T minus ten minutes,” a computer voice announced.
Lance looked quickly at the clock. It was just past one in the afternoon. His lap was covered by a thick pile of old-fashioned paper from which he was reading off one question after the other.
Sharon checked to make sure that the data fell within the acceptable parameters. From time to time reports came in from the subsystems about things like the pressure in the oxygen tank, the wind velocity, or the angle at which the Endeavour was standing on the surface. Mike had calculated the launch time such that they would reach the rendezvous point with the Santa Maria with the lowest possible fuel consumption. The MfE ship had been deflected by Mars’s gravitational pull and was flying in orbit around the sun. They had to stay beside it long enough to pump over fuel and bring five crew members on board.
“Tell me. If we have enough room, why don’t we just take all of them with us?” Lance asked.
“Because they’ve asked us to only take five of them. Are you still working on the list?”
“GN&C?”
Sharon studied two displays to her left. “Complete.”
“But what if they die?”
“I don’t think they want to forfeit what they brought with them. And that’s okay. How would we take care of fifteen additional people?”
“We have enough emergency rations for three years. We’d manage.”
“The MfE people cannot go back to Earth. They want to stay here permanently, don’t forget that. And now, let’s keep going.”
“T minus five minutes,” the computer announced.
Lance continued through his list until Mike interrupted. “Ready to launch?” he asked.
“Confirmed,” Sharon answered.
“Correct,” Lance said.
“T minus one minute.” This time it was Mike who said it. “Begin countdown.”
The computer started counting down instantly. They didn’t have much more to do except keep their eyes out for any lights that unexpectedly started blinking red. The computer monitored these. Lance leaned back in his seat.
“To the stars,” he suddenly blurted.
“You poet,” Sharon replied.
“T minus ten,” he heard.
“Nine.”
“Eight.”
He thought about his girlfriend. What is her eye color, again?
“Three.”
“Two.”
Blue. They’re blue.
“One.”
“Launch.”
The entire ship vibrated. It was a mind-blowing moment. Like a tiger gathering its strength before leaping, the Endeavour started its engines. The combustion process combined oxygen and hydrogen to create water. The dry Mars surface was instantly drenched in steam.
The ship lifted off. First, centimeter by centimeter, then faster and faster. The inertia pressed Lance into his seat. He could see on his monitor that they had just broken the sound barrier. No sound was produced by this, only the deep rumbling in the belly of the ship and the increasingly-loud whistling of the layers of atmosphere as they passed through them. The whistling dropped as the atmosphere grew thinner. Instead of a muddy, pinkish brown, the porthole was now filled with the black of outer space.
‘To the stars,’ Lance thought. And there they are.
May 25, 2042, Santa Maria
Ewa never liked it when she could remember her dreams. This was why she preferred to take a pill every evening, which sent her into a deep, dreamless sleep. This had been less necessary in recent times, but this morning her dream had seemed astonishingly real as she woke up. It had been terrible. She didn’t want to think about the details. Suppression was the only way to alleviate her emotional pain. Nothing at all had changed.
The excitement must have caused it. Andy planned to follow through on his threat to suggest her as the new commander today. She knew he’d do it. On the one hand, she was excited. It was an incredible honor. On the other hand, she was scared. She wasn’t afraid of the duties or worried that she wasn’t up to the responsibilities. She was concerned she would fulfill them all too well. She was once again moving down the path she had started forging so long ago without consciously being aware of it.
Ewa felt torn. If she didn’t accept the position—assuming the job was even offered—who would be the next choice? Andy lacked support. Theo was nice and was willing to get his hands dirty, but he didn’t show any initiative. Gabriella maybe, but she wasn’t the best speaker, and she sometimes demanded too much from people; she really was the embodiment of the stereotypical temperamental Italian. Chuck had been the perfect commander.
Ewa’s mind turned to what all they had to do today. They had to inter their five dead comrades in space, rendezvous with the NASA ship, refuel, and decelerate. Then they could land eventually. But first and foremost, they had to reach Mars orbit.
Ewa unzipped her sleeping bag and turned back the shell. She flinched. The others had gathered around her sleeping spot. Andy called out something, but she couldn’t hear anything. She took off her headphones and heard the others clapping.
“What’s going on? It’s not my birthday, is it?” she asked.
It was common practice in her homeland to wake up the birthday child with a serenade.
“In a way, it is,” Andy countered. “I made you a threat.”
“Yes, you did,” she said.
“I have spoken to each crew member individually, so there wouldn’t be any group pressure. And each of them, every person here on board, has confirmed my personal opinion that you are the optimal successor to Chuck.”
Ewa had to admit that Andy really seemed to like her. She had never spent all that much time with him. She had tended to keep herself apart from the others. The only exception to this had been Chuck. If she had wanted company, she had spent time with him. He’d had something about him that made you feel safe.
“That is very nice of you,” she said. Where were the right words when she needed them?
“We hope that you will accept our election,” Gabriella said.
“You’ve already voted?”
The doctor nodded. “Fourteen ayes, one abstention.”
“Ah, so you counted my sleeping as an abstention.”
“We thought that was fair.”
“Alright then. It wouldn’t make sense for us to spend lots of time debating this. Someone has to do it, and you have chosen me, so I can hardly protest. Thank you very much, all of you, for your trust.”
Everyone clapped.
“But now we should get to work. How far is it to the fueling point?”
“The rendezvous with the Endeavor will take place in about three hours,” Andy said.
“I’m sorry to cause any stress, but we need to take care of our dead before then. Ketut, you offered to take over those duties, right?”
“Yes, Ewa. We have already secured Chuck, Henrik, and Piotr. Now we are dealing with the other two. We just wanted to wait until your appointment as our leader was official.”
“Thank you. This is great. Just let me know when Shankar and Asha are over here, too.” She looked at the German, who looked exhausted. “Theo?”
“Yes?”
“When was the last time you slept?
“Uh...”
“Please be honest.”
“About thirty-six hours ago.”
“Go rest for two hours. I can’t manage without you for longer than that, and I’m sure you’ll want to be here for the memorial ceremony, but those two hours are necessary.”
“I promised the NASA people that I would report in thirty minutes from now.”
“I’ll take care of it. Now go to bed.”
Theo nodded and floated downward.
Ewa looked around. It felt good to give the orders. She had been afraid of that.
She recalled having seen the man whose face was on the screen, but she couldn’t remember his name. It had a nice ring to it, though, something alliterative.
“Hello, Endeavour, Ewa Kowalska from the Santa Maria here.”
“Lance Leber,” the man replied.
Ah yes, Lance Leber, she repeated to herself, A melodic name. “Pleased to see you again. I’m the new commander.”
“Under other circumstances, I would offer you my congratulations, Ewa.”
“Yes, I would prefer for Chuck to be speaking with you right now.”
“I can understand that,” said Lance, abruptly going straight to the point. “What is your status?”
His commander had introduced him as an engineer, Ewa recalled. That get-to-the-point behavior would fit. “We’ve already turned the ship, and your base transmitted the course data. We will reach the optimal position in ninety minutes.”
“Have you ever done something like this before?”
“Both modules were fueled in Earth orbit, so we aren’t completely clueless about how this works. At the same time, Chuck was in charge of that.”
“And on top of that, we’ll be on divergent orbits,” Lance said. “We’ll be riding on a giant carousel. You’ll just happen to pass us in a wide curve, and from our carousel, we’ll extend out to you the humongous teddy bear we’ve just won at the shooting gallery.”
He’d actually made her chuckle. “Nice metaphor,” she said. “And all this will take place at a speed of five kilometers per second, not per hour.”
Lance frowned and sighed. “It sounds worse when you put it that way. The fuel line is fifty meters long. We’ll get as close to you as possible, and then our ships can drift apart by a few meters. Mike, our math genius, claims that we only need to transfer the necessary amount of oxygen. You have enough hydrogen, I’ve heard. Then you can slow down to enter orbit, and we’ll have all the time in the world to get your people on board.”
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