Luckily, he had not taken off his thermal underwear earlier, which saved him some time now. The whiff of sweat in the EMU told him it had been used a lot lately.
Martin took the portable spotlight and exited the lander. The wall, it seemed to him, had come a bit closer yet. He approached it with the spotlight turned off. It was a strange feeling to stand right in front of the wall, particularly since he knew the material might be full of cells. Once again he experienced odd thoughts he could not quite categorize, and that couldn’t have been his own. Most of all he felt greed and hatred. He took a few steps back and his thinking relaxed. It must be the stress, he thought, of seeing this alien thing looming ahead of me.
He lifted the spotlight and turned it on. In the hazy atmosphere the beam of light was clearly visible. He aimed the cone toward a point shortly before the wall and then moved it up vertically. Nothing visible happened, yet he felt an echo of the strange thoughts he had experienced earlier.
Martin slowly moved the light's power-slider upward. The light turned brighter and the strange thoughts intensified. He closed his eyes in order to better follow the thoughts. Into the darkness of his mind there came flickering flames that exerted a strange attraction on him. He felt an animalistic hunger, not a normal appetite, but a raging painful urge to feed on the flames because he would otherwise die. Martin’s hair stood on end. He snapped his eyes open again, and once more drew a line on the wall with the spotlight. This time, a bulge appeared there. It seemed as if the wall was seeking the energy source and desperately wanted to get closer to it. Were the cells acting like moths flying toward the light? He focused the beam so the same amount of energy hit a smaller area. The bulge increased. Out of nothing, two more parallel lines developed and moved toward the lighted area. Is this internal competition? Were the cells fighting over a place in the sun?
He stopped moving the spotlight, aiming instead at a fixed spot. The bulge grew at this spot, while it flattened elsewhere. The competing lines came from left and right and started forming arcs that finally joined in an ellipse, at the center of which the point bathed in energy was located. Martin was fascinated. He could use the spotlight to create reactions in the material. The wall was responding to external stimuli, an important feature of life, even though inanimate systems might react in similar ways. But where were these thoughts that he could barely understand coming from? Was it his fear of the unknown that manifested this way?
Martin closed his eyes again. He was thinking rationally. Inside his head, patterns of neurons were being triggered. This was no place for alien things. And in spite of it, waves of greed were crashing in on him that he could not imagine coming from his own unconscious. Martin shook his head and opened his eyes once more. Déjà vu. Like in the ocean on Enceladus.
The spotlight was still pointing at the same area. He waited patiently. The ellipse was clearly becoming more like a circle, while its diameter shrank. Then the material itself started to change. The tip of the bulge was turning white, like a pimple about to pop. The tip glittered in the glare of the spotlight. It probably consisted of pure water ice. The circle was no longer coming closer and instead started to retreat. Martin held the spotlight as steadily as possible. Suddenly, the tip of the bulge broke off. It fell down with a tantalizing slowness, then shattered into tiny crystals. Where it had been, a hole remained. A small puff of smoke came out if it and then dissolved within seconds. What was that? Martin noticed his own mouth was open.
“Did you see that?” he asked over the helmet radio.
“The camera images were too grainy. What happened?” answered Hayato from the lander.
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Martin said. He switched off the spotlight and went back inside the capsule.
This time, Hayato helped him to get out of his spacesuit. It was hot in here, or did he only imagine it? At the computer, Martin called up the recordings that were taken by the helmet camera. Then he waved his colleague over to join him.
“Do you see this?”
Martin zoomed in on the tip of the bulge that was first getting brighter and then burst.
“What do you make of it?”
Hayato looked at this scene again in slow motion, then another time.
“Did you always aim the spotlight at it?”
Martin nodded.
“It seemed to happen when the cells, I mean the material,” Hayato corrected himself, “no longer can absorb the available energy.”
“Yes, but what exactly is going on here?”
“We will not be able to find out without looking at it under a microscope. Two processes are possible: either the material is destroyed by it, or it takes on a different form.”
“I thought about it being destroyed,” Martin said. “Maybe we could use this to defend ourselves against it. But what do you mean by taking on a different form?”
Martin continued, “You saw the puff of smoke. It reminded me of what happens when you step on a ripe puffball. Do you know of those bulbous fungi? The body of it bursts and a small cloud of spores is released. Maybe something similar is happening here? On Earth there are bacterial spores that can survive extreme temperatures. It is suspected that not even the vacuum of space could harm them. This would be ideal for Titan. The spores would stay inactive during the long winters and summers. But when rain and thunderstorms move through the desert regions during the transitional seasons they would become active, soak up as much energy as possible, and then produce new spores.”
“A nice story,” Hayato said, his voice growing louder, “but unfortunately we will not be able to check it. Even if we were sure about it, it would not help us to prevent the wall from further encircling us. In the end, if it is really a form of life, we should definitely avoid destroying it right after we arrive here.”
“You are not seriously thinking about sacrificing your life to preserve these primitive life forms, when we don’t even know what they are?” While Martin said this, he himself was becoming unsure. He still had not told Hayato about the strange thoughts that had invaded his mind when he was near the wall.
“I...” Hayato did not finish his sentence.
“Just think about your kid—and Amy. Should Dimitri Sol grow up without a father, just because his dad did not defend himself against an obvious danger?” Martin knew this was unfair, but he was afraid for his own life. It had taken him a long time to assign any value to himself at all. He had only come on this journey because he considered his life so unimportant the potential dangers did not scare him. He sat down and turned his thoughts inward. For years, he had carried this feeling of insignificance around with him, ever since his father left the family. Now, of all times, when he had become attached to life again—for which Jiaying was more than partially responsible—he should give it up? Hayato must be crazy. Martin felt his throat tightening.
“No, I do not want this to happen,” Hayato said, breaking the silence. “Just like you, I do not want to die for the sake of some spores. But I want to use all of the options we have before choosing the last resort.”
“And what would that be?” Martin suddenly realized the entire discussion was useless. They only had two spotlights on board. Even if they aimed them permanently at the wall, it would only create a few holes and puffs of smoke. The wall would easily absorb it and might even create more spores. Therefore, they could not succeed in fighting the wall this way.
“The last resort? The laser on ILSE,” Hayato replied, and Martin suddenly felt a chill raise the hairs on his arms. Hayato was right. They had used the laser on Enceladus to provide the Valkyrie drill vehicle with energy. The laser was provided with electricity by the Direct Fusion Drives. Each DFD generated ten megawatts, they had six DFDs on board, and in its orbit around Titan, ILSE only needed a fraction of that energy. The DFDs could offer at least 50 megawatts of continuous power. The mobile spotlights, on the other hand, only represented a few hundred watts.
“Don’t you think the layer of haze might be a problem
?”
“It is going to absorb part of the energy, true, but we have enough. And in the infrared range, the layer is extraordinarily permeable,” Hayato said.
“Can you reconfigure the laser from down here?” asked Martin. Hayato was an engineer, specially trained in operating and maintaining the laser, unlike Jiaying and Amy, who were currently aboard the spaceship.
“Yes, it should not be a problem. I am going to inform both of them what to expect soon.”
Martin nodded. Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be. He heard Hayato explain his plan to the commander. They were not yet ready to start, though. They would have to wait for Francesca, who still had not reported in to them. He hoped nothing had happened to her!
Hayato pointed at the monitor. “Look, I updated the recordings. The wall has moved closer again. I would give us about half an hour.”
“I understand,” Martin said. Dear Francesca, it would be nice if you could call us soon, he thought. Right then, the two-way radio crackled.
“Lander, come in. This is Francesca.”
January 1, 2047, Titan
Francesca ran. For once, Titan placed fewer obstacles in her way than expected, as the elongated lake had by now mostly been drained or dried out. Plumes of smoke were rising from a few large puddles. The methane evaporated and partially condensed again right away. Francesca was reminded of the sulfur fumes on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. She tried to find the most direct path between the puddles. Running fast did not feel very exhausting to her. She loved to go jogging on Earth. This way, she also would not use up her precious oxygen as quickly.
Gradually, the path started to rise. The mountains were ahead of her, and she avoided looking upward. Instead, she took long leaps forward, even though this came with great risk. She used the possibilities offered by the lower gravity. At least this was a rare advantage of the hostile environment. Any mountain goat would be proud of her. During hikes in the Alps, she had always admired those animals.
Then she paused briefly to look up and down. She determined that she had finished about half of her ascent. The mountains were getting steeper now, and she needed to be careful to avoid becoming stuck in any of the crevasses. The display on the screen gave her another twenty minutes. The estimate was based on the average oxygen consumption of the last half hour, so it was rather optimistic. It was possible she could last longer, as the calculation was based on the average astronaut. If she compared herself to Martin Neumaier, for instance, she would definitely be above average, at least concerning fitness. She was well-trained and at her physical peak.
The ridge was near, and soon she would be past the most exhausting part. She tried again to reach the lander module via the radio.
“Lander, come in. This is Francesca.”
First there was only a hissing sound, but then she heard Martin’s voice.
“Lander here. We are very glad to hear back from you.” The voice sounded strangely rushed, and more than just being happy about her coming back.
“I am also glad. I had a few problems. Huygens appears to...”
“Sorry to interrupt you, but you can tell us about that later. We have also had a few problems. It would be great if you could come here as quickly as possible.”
Francesca had had enough. She let Martin have it.
“Listen Neumaier, I have been on the run here the whole time and I have only got a few minutes’ worth of oxygen left! I am barely going to make it to my supplies.”
“I am sorry, Francesca, but the situation is really critical. We might have to do an emergency launch and did not want to leave you behind.”
“What?” She thought she must have misunderstood Martin.
“It would take too long to explain, but we are facing an unexpected danger. Please, just hurry up! We will stay here as long as possible.”
Francesca felt rage rising further inside of her. What the hell is Martin thinking? She just achieved something no one else had ever done, and he did not even want to hear about it. She felt cheated, and at the same time she knew this was a rather childish feeling. The voice of her fellow astronaut indicated he was suffering from enormous stress. The rational part of her said to get going rather than to engage in lengthy discussions. She could deal with her feelings later.
“I understand,” she let the grown-up Francesca say into the microphone. “I’ll hurry up.” She cut the connection and looked at her map. The sled with the supplies was located a few hundred meters below the ridge. It was downhill, so she should be able to make it there on her remaining oxygen. A few minutes later she reached the blinking dot that should indicate the tarp serving as a sled. The map was not perfectly accurate, and she tried to recall specific rock formations to indicate where it could be. An image appeared before her eyes—two thin needles, almost looking like the cairns that are sometimes built by hikers. Over there! The perspective was different, but these shapes were so unusual for Titan that she was sure of it, and the sled was indeed there. It looked as if someone had tampered with it, but that was not possible. All she now needed was a spare oxygen tank. She made the exchange and breathed in deeply.
Finished. Francesca sat down. Her muscles ached after all this effort. She took a pen from her tool bag and drew crosses on her glove, one for each time she had cheated death. If she made it to the lander in time, it would mean another cross. She thought about Marchenko, who no longer would be able to draw crosses. She missed him, but noticed her thoughts were no longer constantly circling around him. Maybe this effort would help her to let go of her dead companion.
The next task was already waiting, and Francesca got up and looked at the wide plain in front of her. It was a fascinating landscape to observe. The haze appeared to consist of layers, and perhaps different winds were blowing at each level to create the effect. She activated the infrared visor. There it was, mighty Saturn, always in the same spot, watching over its moon. There too was the sun, looking small and insignificant next to it. In infrared, the landscape definitely looked more inviting. Most of the haze disappeared. If life developed here, she thought, it would be able to see in the infrared range.
She switched back to the normal view. The area where the lander module waited for her was hidden in the haze. There were several dunes ahead of her, and she remembered how much they slanted in the direction she now had to cross. This meant the return trip would be much more arduous than the way here. It would also take more time, which she obviously did not have. Francesca thought about it. As a child she had admired the mountain goats and dreamt of being able to climb the steepest cliffs just as elegantly as they could. She had been even more in awe of the birds, to the point of feeling envious of their ability to fly. She could try to emulate the mountain goats, work hard, and maybe achieve their skills one day. But as far as the birds were concerned, she saw no chance at all. One thing was absolutely clear—birds would always have an advantage over her. Humans would never be able to fly under their own power. Francesca had honestly wished to become a bird herself, and that was why she originally joined the military, to become a pilot. Yet, this decision did not manage to reduce her envy of the birds. It was a fascinating experience to feel the power of a machine below her, to hear the roar with which she raced through the air. It was her intelligence, though, that had given her the ability to become a pilot, not her strength, and she came to realize that it was something completely different.
Francesca glanced down at her body. With her spacesuit she had a mass of about 150 kilograms. On Titan this was the equivalent of a bit more than 20 kilograms, not much more than a kori bustard or an Andean condor weighed on Earth. She also had the advantage of a denser atmosphere, which would give her additional lift. Francesca waved her arms. Her plumage was admittedly rather paltry, but this could be altered. The tent, which had protected her from the cold rain, might be able to carry her home. She took it out and spread it on the ground. The elastic poles automatically tried to create an igloo shape, but she had a different idea
for its use—she was going to turn it into wings! Saying a short prayer, she reached into her tool bag and uttered an exclamation of joy when she found both all-purpose adhesive and a multitool. Cheers to the clever NASA engineer responsible for selecting this!
First she took the elastic poles out of the tent fabric. This left a rectangular tarp and four poles of about a meter and a half each. Then she cut the tarp with the multitool to create a shape reminiscent of the cape Batman had worn in those ancient movies. Her father had liked those adventures and wanted her to become a fan of the superhero and his sidekicks, too. Francesca once more felt the warm hand of her father on her shoulder. Then she rolled an edge of the tarp around one of the poles, did the same at the opposite edge and in the middle, attaching pole to tarp with the adhesive, so the ends of the poles stood out at the upper end about three-quarters of a meter.
Afterward, she glued the naked ends of the poles to her spacesuit. She started in the middle, which was particularly complicated, since the bulge of the life support system on her back was in the way. While Francesca was limber, the spacesuit limited her movements. She solved the problem by leaning the tarp against a rock, covering the pole in the middle with adhesive, and then pushing herself against it before the adhesive hardened. The effort worked on the third try. Now she only had to attach the other two poles to her arms and she would transform herself into her own version of Batgirl—but without a Batjet. Francesca laughed, because when she was a child, she had liked this character the least, even though her father had hoped for the opposite reaction from her at the time.
She waited two minutes for the adhesive to harden completely. Then she searched for a suitable takeoff point. She would not simply jump off cliff, as she didn’t yet trust her flying skills. She needed a slope where she could get a bit of a running start. Even if she could not fly like a bird, she planned to at least sail like a hang glider might from a mountain in the Alps. Francesca climbed up to get a better look around, and there it was; the slope from which she would take off. It looked slightly different than it would if it were in the Alps, since there were no flowers, and of course one couldn’t see the sun. She would be the first bird to fly through the skies of Titan—or the first Icarus of this moon of Saturn.
The Titan Probe Page 13