The Titan Probe

by Morris, Brandon Q.

  Perhaps, he thought, this being, which Martin and Francesca had described as spanning this entire world, developed because of the limited supply of resources. From the very beginning, this would have made cooperation a more efficient survival strategy than the struggle that drives evolution on Earth. What would Earth look like if all organisms supported each other on the cellular level? To the entity on Enceladus, the constant struggle of terrestrial life would seem strange and inefficient, a kind of luxury version of evolution.

  Maybe it was better for him to take this knowledge to his grave. Otherwise it would inevitably fall into the wrong hands. Some unscrupulous researcher would try to get a sample and use it to create a super-efficient life form that could handle the conditions on Earth. Marchenko felt the being on Enceladus itself did not pose any danger. A strain adapted to a terrestrial habitat, however, could overwhelm the inefficient life forms on Earth. Humanity would not stand a chance.

  Marchenko sat on his bunk. He would have liked to have discussed this question with Francesca. She would have called him an old pessimist and pointed out the incredible potential for mankind—and she would have been right, as well. What incredible stores of knowledge might this being have accumulated during its existence? In order to evaluate this, they would have to be able to establish a real form of communication at some point. Marchenko was not sure this would actually be possible. It stood to reason this entity must have a completely different concept of time and space.

  Which senses could it use? Marchenko tried to imagine being like it—the ocean was always dark, but there were currents that could be compared to the sense of touch, differences in chemical potential (thus ‘smells’), it could transfer sound, and was bombarded by various forms of radiation from space. The being must have had billions of years to receive these sensations and to adapt to them.

  Maybe it felt the almost weightless neutrinos that raced through space in huge numbers, or could detect the X-ray emissions of distant quasars, or maybe it even had a sensor for gravitational waves, which reported on seminal events in the universe. This would mean it knew more about the cosmos than all human cosmologists combined. If they managed to ask the right questions, this might advance humanity by centuries—or humanity would be destroyed in trying to implement some of these insights which it was not yet mature enough to properly handle.

  Marchenko could not foresee the future. He did not even know exactly how the next day would end. He hoped he would at least be able to ask the entity a few of the questions that were burning in his mind.

  January 5, 2047, ILSE

  A metallic sound was heard, indicating the AI had opened the clamps connecting the lander to ILSE. The spaceship continued at high velocity in the direction of Saturn, while the lander with Francesca, Hayato, and Martin aboard aimed for the seemingly tiny ice moon that could barely be seen on their display.

  “Left thrusters,” Martin heard the voice of the pilot say. They still seemed to float weightlessly, but he now felt a gentle force turning the capsule around. It was crucial for the lander’s engines to be aimed in their direction of travel in order to decelerate to a speed matching the speed of Enceladus.

  “Aaaand... go!” Francesca did not even have to say this because the negative acceleration immediately pressed Martin against his seat. He found it difficult to breathe, but he would have to endure the strain for a while. Martin was aware that about 99 percent of the landing maneuver was concerned with deceleration. But right now, he wanted to get rid of the elephant on his chest as quickly as possible. He tried to shrug his shoulders to ease the discomfort, but lacked the strength.

  “All parameters in normal range,” Francesca said. How can she still read the instruments under these conditions? wondered Martin. He tried to think of something else, but the force of the engines seemed to squeeze his brain as well. He closed his eyes and saw colorful swirls on the inside of his eyelids.

  “Thrust to minimum.” Martin was relieved to hear Francesca’s command. He had no idea how much time had passed—it felt like days or weeks. The nightmare was finally over, and he looked to the side. Francesca and Hayato showed no sign of the stress they had all just experienced. The Japanese astronaut was laughing—he was probably talking to the commander on a private channel. Francesca focused on the monitors, even though the final phase of the descent should pose no problems.

  “Rossi to commander, we had a soft landing,” the pilot finally announced, and Martin applauded. Naturally, Francesca had performed a perfectly smooth landing. He had not even noticed the exact moment of touching down, since the engines had not yet fallen silent. Francesca really knows her job.

  “Great job, ground team,” said Amy, congratulating them. Earlier today, Jiaying had not said goodbye to Martin. Instead, she had taped a letter to the door of his cabin telling him about her fear of loss, and indicating she was not angry that he had come to a different decision in this matter.

  Francesca landed about midway between the particular Tiger Stripe where Valkyrie had emerged 12 days ago and the crevasse Marchenko had crashed into. This way was more practical—they could launch parallel searches from this location. Before they left ILSE, Amy had ordered Hayato to check on Valkyrie, while Martin was supposed to look into the crevasse. Martin could see Francesca was obviously not happy with this decision, but Amy thought she was needed more in the role of the pilot. On Titan they had underestimated the danger, and such a mistake should not be repeated. Most of all, Francesca could help Hayato or Martin more quickly if either needed support.

  The commander is clever, Martin thought while stepping into his still-smelly EVA suit. Who knows whether the emotional pilot could be reliable enough to do her job after finding Marchenko’s corpse? They had plenty of time, an hour to get there, an hour back, as long as no unforeseen incidents occurred. Martin was not sure what outcome to expect. He considered the chances of finding Marchenko alive to be very low, but at least they might find the source of the signal.

  Leaping forth, he followed the same route he had taken less than two weeks ago, back then, together with Francesca. Marchenko was still very much alive at that time, while Martin’s own chances of ever seeing Earth again seemed to be almost nil. It was for this very reason he owed it to the Russian to follow any clue he could find. The ice rocks should look familiar, but Martin could not remember any of the distinctive structures. His arm display was guiding him, so he did not have to worry about the direction of his route. He only needed to remain on the alert and not end up in one of the crevasses himself.

  The walk, which would most likely be the last one during this expedition, put him in a melancholy mood. It was a dual farewell, both to a friend and colleague, and to an incomparable adventure. Martin would have never expected it of himself, but he had discovered crossing boundaries and experiencing new things had an addictive quality. When would he ever again experience this on Earth, where every parcel of land had already been explored long ago?

  The computer indicated 500 meters. He looked around carefully. It was possible the locator might not be entirely correct. At the 100-meter mark, Martin jumped high up and spotted what he was looking for. The crevasse was only a few steps ahead of him. He immediately recognized its shape. Seen from above it resembled a huge cat’s eye. This was what Marchenko must have seen speeding downward from space.

  Martin searched the area. There were no footprints to be found, since there was no yielding surface in which to leave tracks. He also did not notice a transmitter or any pieces of equipment. Well, I guess I’ll have to go down there, as I expected. From the edge of the crevasse he tried to see its bottom, but in vain. He made absolutely certain he had his flashlight with him before jumping down.

  Once Martin was there, he found the bottom of the crevasse empty. There were chunks of ice and ice dust, but no sign of either Marchenko or his gear. Had he chosen the wrong crevasse after all? Martin checked his location via radio, and Watson confirmed this being the place where the last sign of
life from Marchenko had been received. Plus, there was no comparable crevasse within a radius of 100 meters.

  Martin was confused. Is this a good sign because Marchenko is no longer here? he wondered. But where could he be? Did he start walking toward the lander—or rather where he believed the lander to be located? He imagined Marchenko arriving there, but then discovering his dear friends had departed the icy moon without him. Martin suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time.

  He systematically searched the bottom of the crevasse. There must be something there indicating Marchenko’s presence. He knelt and brushed his gloves across the ice. Surprised, he then discovered a glass shard. It was a miracle that he found it—a miracle that almost cost him his life, because the long, narrow piece of glass dug deeply into his glove as he reached for it. Martin looked at his hand, and fortunately for him the splinter had not completely punctured the fabric. There was no leak.

  The piece of glass slipped from his grasp and landed on the ground again. Martin picked it up carefully this time and closed his fist around it. As it did not show any signs of melting, it definitely was not ice. Where did this fragment come from? There was only a small amount of glass present in a spacesuit. The display cover of his arm computer consisted of it, as well as the visor of his helmet. In both cases, transparent plastic had not proven to be adequately resistant to the intense cold. The glass of the arm display has a coating, whereas the splinter does not have one, so it must be a part of the helmet visor. Martin tried to remember specifics about the glass. Had Marchenko’s helmet shattered during the landing? The glass shard would indicate this, but Marchenko could not have survived for several days in the vacuum of Enceladus. Perhaps the only damage had been a thin crack. Had it closed by itself?

  “I have arrived at the Tiger Stripe,” Hayato radioed, interrupting Martin’s thoughts.

  “Well?” asked Francesca immediately.

  “I do not know whether it is good news or bad news, but there is no trace of Valkyrie here.”

  “Did you check closely? Maybe it has frozen over?” Francesca’s voice was about to crack with teary emotion.

  “I am sorry, there is definitely nothing here.”

  The commander cut in from ILSE. “Thanks, Hayato. Something must have happened down there. This proves our return here is not completely in vain. Martin, according to our data, you are now at the crevasse. Did you find anything?”

  “Unfortunately, there is nothing here either,” Martin reported. “No trace of Marchenko. I assume he might have walked to the former landing site, but this would not correspond with the missing Valkyrie.” Martin did not mention having found a glass shard, as this piece of information suddenly no longer seemed relevant. Marchenko must have made it alive to the drill vessel, that much seemed obvious.

  “Thank you, Martin,” the commander said. “You’d better return to the lander where we can discuss how to proceed.”

  Martin was sweating profusely when he reached the lander module less than an hour later. He had hurried, but Hayato still arrived before him. Francesca received them with a stone-faced expression, but Martin could well understand that. Things had not gotten easier for her. While there might be a bit more reason for hope than before, she must have also realized they had left Marchenko behind alive. The others also seemed to be considering this probability. Amy therefore was attempting to help the pilot get over her feelings of guilt.

  The commander then said, “Before we consider how to proceed, Watson has confirmed that while his suit regularly sent status updates, no signs of actual life were received from Marchenko. Therefore, the suit was still functional at the time, but the man was dead, as far as we could discern.” Martin saw Francesca furtively wiping a tear from the corner of an eye.

  “I know,” Francesca said hoarsely.

  “Good,” Amy continued. “I think Marchenko walked to Valkyrie and used it to send a radio signal. Then he took the vessel down. This is the most likely explanation for what we have found, and the AI confirms it as well. Of course this leaves a lot of unanswered questions. And, we cannot answer those at present.”

  “The most important question is, ‘What do we do now?’” Hayato said.

  “Correct. I don’t know the answer to that, either. But we should do things differently than last time, when we immediately took off. You have sufficient resources for a night on the surface. We will determine what to do tomorrow. Agreed, everyone?”

  Martin looked at Hayato and Francesca. They both nodded. Francesca appeared to be relieved to have a bit of extra time.

  “Agreed?”

  “Yes,” they all answered in turn.

  January 5, 2047, Valkyrie

  Valkyrie automatically took infrared images of the ocean floor every hour. Marchenko carefully studied them. He did not have to measure anything. It was obvious—the broad, straight stripes were getting closer to each other. They were aiming toward a common goal in a star-shaped pattern. He had the computer calculate the spot where the stripes would meet, and the results were apparent. The projected center coincided with the location where he was headed, the place Martin and Francesca had called the ‘Forest of Columns.’

  He was no longer really surprised by this fact. The stripes, as Marchenko already suspected, must correspond to the blood vessels or nerves of an organism—or perhaps both, or neither.

  What other functions might they serve? He realized he would have to think beyond the patterns of terrestrial biology. Nerve pathways used by a central brain to send signals to limbs for executing commands might be useful in an animal or even a plant. However, this being here was not located in the Enceladus Ocean, it basically was the ocean.

  The farther one of its cells was from the ‘center,’ the more autonomous its actions had to be. Chemical signals are slow. If this being could only control its components via chemical signals, the long signal transmission time would make it as difficult as steering an interplanetary spaceship from Earth. This was the reason the computers on ILSE contained two artificial intelligences and there were astronauts aboard to make decisions without delay. This creature must be using something along similar lines. Maybe the nodes he had observed in the mulch-like area were fulfilling such a function.

  Was the consciousness of this life form divided in a similar way? Does this entity perhaps have several personalities that act independently in their own areas and then mutually agree upon major decisions? Or is there an all-embracing consciousness that animates both the center and all of the minor nodes? Marchenko noticed how similar such a biological concept was to human ideas of God. Was his dream of visiting a church accidental, then? Was this image from his unconscious the one in which this entity had most nearly recognized its self? In all these billions of years it must have felt like a lonely deity, all-seeing and all-knowing. Maybe it had looked for an equivalent characteristic in Marchenko’s mind. This would be logical, as it only knew its own life form, which made do without the concept of the individual. It must be difficult for this being to acknowledge the completely different nature of us humans—us tiny, unknown visitors from far away, he concluded.

  Even if he was going to die today, Marchenko felt as though he had all the time in the world, or maybe he felt so exactly because of this fate. He almost reveled in the fantastic possibilities such an alien creature could offer. What if there really was a ‘god gene’ that compelled humans to be religious believers, all of them following the wishes and ideas of the same deity? Then humanity could be compared to the being in the Enceladus Ocean. Would this—if humanity followed such a gene-driven compulsion—even make his home planet a better world?

  Marchenko could not imagine the individual nodes of this ice ocean fighting, killing, and rejecting each other. Had evolution on Earth perhaps tried to follow a similar path by raising religious feelings in ancient humans? Even as a child Marchenko could not believe in God. For the sake of his mother he had never openly rejected the church, but later, after reading his first book about sp
ace, he knew his world held no place for a deity. Later still, he had even been angry at this God who was used to justify his father’s beatings. As an adult he met people who strongly believed that faith had really helped them in their lives, and he was always a little bit envious of them.

  It did not seem quite fair he of all people would encounter a godlike entity in a few hours. Marchenko scratched his temples as he pondered this viewpoint. Most of all he had to avoid projecting too much wishful thinking into this meeting. He was going to see the Forest of Columns, no doubt, but it probably would be no more than a few stone columns that stood closer together in the center, so therefore no reason for excitement and eager anticipation. Yet, the anticipation he used to love as a kid on the eve of his birthdays wouldn’t go away. During his early years, his parents had still attempted to stop fighting on that one special day.

  He looked at the screen. Two hours from now he would be able to see the Forest of Columns. Until then, Marchenko would once more review everything that Francesca and Martin had recorded about it. Just thinking his girlfriend’s name caused him a stab of pain.

  “Target area in range,” the computer reported, as he had programmed it to do. Marchenko watched the monitor. Even from afar he saw how appropriate the name was. The tall columns looked like trees that had shed not only their leaves but also their branches during the winter. Valkyrie’s searchlights did not reach very far, so the forest initially seemed threatening and dark. The closer the vessel approached, though, the more neutral his impression became.