The Contact Episode Two

by Albert Sartison

  After checking that everyone on board was strapped in, the stewardesses closed the lock and took their seats. The journey could now begin. The spacecraft smoothly undocked and weightlessness began at once.

  The orbital station created artificial gravity by rotating round its own axis. The gravity in the outer ring was roughly the same as that of Mars. This was considerably less than on Earth, but was quite sufficient for comfort.

  The spacecraft flew away from the space station at a tangent. A few minutes later, when it had reached a safe distance, it began blowing out its jets. Through the porthole, Steve could see the compressed gas rushing out into space from all directions, as if someone had pressed the button of a huge canister of deodorant. After blowout, the spacecraft turned onto the required course, turning away from the Earth. Finally, everything was ready for the flight.

  Steve’s heart rate increased from his excitement. The start stage in the spacecraft was incomparably more interesting than in the space elevator. Somewhere in the depths of the craft, the hissing sound of gas being bled off was heard. A few seconds later, electricity was discharged, and finally, filling the passenger compartment with a low dull roar, the main engines were switched on. Steve was pressed back in his seat. The spacecraft, rapidly increasing speed as it left the orbital base, set course for Mars.

  Mars

  When they arrived on Mars, Steve and Clive found themselves in a huge hall with a high transparent cupola. Outside, as far as the eye could see, lay the Martian deserts. Settlers’ capsules were visible on one side, with industrial complexes a little way beyond them.

  The first permanent base on Mars had been built in the middle of the last century. At that time it was populated by real romantics; the first generation of settlers had flown here on one-way tickets. Technology at the time meant it was not possible to make piloted flights from the surface of the Red Planet to its orbit, therefore anyone setting foot on the Martian sand knew that there was no way back.

  Amazingly, there was an endless number of applications from those wanting to take part in the first mission, far more than the three hundred that the first module of the Martian base could accommodate.

  As the project was about to get under way, few believed that a successful outcome to the first attempt to colonise Mars was likely. On the contrary, scepticism prevailed. The problem was not in the equipment; that was more or less trusted. It was the people who were seen as the problem.

  Of course, selection for the mission was very rigorous. Those who were simply fed up with living on Earth were not accepted. Adventurers were not needed either. The situation on Mars was different from Earth’s frontier lands. There was no-one there who could strike hard in an emergency to establish the bounds of the permissible. Send police to maintain law and order? But who would keep the police in order? And with no police, where was the guarantee that the first wave of settlers would not revert to a primitive society living by the laws of the jungle? All that remained was the faint hope that they would be idealists, prepared to put the interests of mankind above their own. The problem was that idealists do not have ‘idealist’ written on their foreheads, so how could those pretending to be idealists be sorted from the real ones?

  As has often been the case in history, there was nothing for it but to try and see what happened. And in fact, it turned out quite well.

  True, to achieve this, they had had to draw back from the initial idea of sending them all at once and trusting that everything would be all right. It was decided that waves of pioneers should continue to arrive at the base, while the base itself would have to be expanded with new sections every few years. The psychological dynamic of the Martian population was under constant observation by psychologists from Earth, and as soon as anything out of balance was noticed in relations between the pioneers, the next wave arriving at the base would include people with the sort of character that would counteract the undesirable tendencies in Martian society.

  A good hundred years later, the Martian base had grown to the size of an Earth metropolis with several million inhabitants. A number of branches had opened in different sectors of the planet, along with large industrial complexes in the mining and processing industries. It was by this time a fully-fledged autonomous human society, numerous enough not only to be psychologically independent of Earth, but also to reproduce itself in the biological sense. The genetic variety of those living at the base was enough for the autonomous preservation and expansion of a healthy population. And with the development of technology, a visit to Mars had ceased to be a one-way ticket. On the whole, mankind’s first step towards colonising space had been a success.

  The central station and the civil spaceport were almost on the equator, so that spacecraft going into orbit could save fuel by making use of the planet’s own rate of rotation. The final destination of their trip was also close to the equator, but virtually on the other side of the planet. To reach it, Steve and Clive would have to cover about 9500 kilometres.

  It took no more than ten minutes to get through the formalities of leasing a spacecraft. After their biometric data had been entered in the ship’s computer, Steve pressed his thumb to the DNA scanner to authorise payment for the lease with his credit card. And that was the end of the bureaucratic procedure.

  “Have a great time on Mars,” said the robot-clerk, and handed Steve a beautiful booklet showing all the latest available craft. If these two could afford to lease a Falcon for an indefinite period, and what’s more, without advance booking, they must be rolling in it.

  Steve and Clive went out to where their Falcon was parked. The splendid silhouette of the ship could be seen from afar against a background of other, smaller craft.

  “There she is!” said Steve, pointing.

  “Wow, she’s great!” replied Clive.

  “You got that right!” Steve answered proudly, as if it were his own ship.

  Steve was by no means a fanatic about spacecraft; he only took a passing interest in them when the occasion arose. All the same, realising that in a few minutes he would be sitting in the pilot’s seat of a Falcon class ship made his pulse race.

  “Have you ever flown in one of these?” Clive asked him while they were walking to the parking place.

  “No, never.”

  The Falcon class ship was an advanced civil craft, able to fly both in atmosphere and in space. Although the thrust of its engines was not sufficient for interplanetary flights, it was unequalled among civil vessels for travel in planets’ atmospheres. It could be manually controlled, but was intelligent enough to fulfil completely an automatic flight programme of any complexity. It could be flown not only by an experienced pilot, but also by the average man in the street – Steve, for example.

  Close up, the ship looked even more splendid than from a distance. It had many stylish curves, and it was apparent that this was not just a functional means of transport, but a deluxe aircraft.

  The flight to their destination would take several hours. Steve sat in the captain’s seat and Clive in the seat next to him. Steve made a few manipulations to set the coordinates of their destination. The ship calculated the route and awaited the pilot’s instructions.

  “Well, are you ready?” asked Steve.

  “Ready,” replied Clive, strapping himself in.

  Steve made a sign to the computer. In response, the ship’s reactor roared, steadily awakening from idling mode and increasing power. In spite of the excellent insulation against vibration, Steve could feel how the gigantic force inside the ship was building up with his entire body. Having the control buttons of a reactor capable of supplying electricity to a city of a million people under your fingers – that was really something!

  After running up the reactor, the ship climbed vertically from the parking place, turned its nose towards the lock and seemed to float towards it. Leaving the hangar, it plunged into the atmosphere of Mars. At a safe distance from the spaceport structures, it stepped on the gas. Thanks to the external cam
eras, Steve could see jets of plasma shooting back out of the tail end for dozens of metres. The acceleration was so intense that his eyes darkened slightly. The ship playfully soared up into the Martian sky, and on reaching an altitude of twenty kilometres turned onto the set course.

  Four hours later, Steve pointed to the map display.

  “That’s our target,” he said. Clive was performing some wizardry on his tablet, calculating something. The Falcon was in completely automatic mode, tearing through the thin atmosphere of Mars at tremendous speed.

  “I think we ought to land some distance away from the crater. We can travel the rest of the way on harriers,” said Steve, taking over manual control of the ship.

  “I agree, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” replied Clive, without taking his eyes off the tablet.

  Controlling the ship was as simple as could be. The ship’s AI was a capable assistant. Depending on requirements, the ship could undertake the monitoring of the flight parameters, while the pilot only had to set the direction and speed of flight, using pedals and a control column.

  Steve gradually reduced speed, descended and landed. With the turbines switched off, there was silence, interrupted only by the wind outside, blowing sand along the bottom and outer shell of the ship.

  “It’ll be getting dark soon, then we can move,” said Steve, switching the reactor to idling.

  Clive nodded. “Let’s go and get ready, there’s not a lot of time.”

  They went down into the cargo compartment, where they found six brand-new harriers. Steve pointed to a red one.

  “I’ll take that one, if you’ve no objection,” he said to Clive.

  Clive looked at the red harrier, then glanced at the others.

  “What’s the difference?” he asked, after thinking for a few seconds.

  “The colour.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Clive genuinely did not understand what difference the colour of the harrier made. Even more so since they would be riding on them in the dark, when they would not be able to distinguish colours, because the night-vision optics were monochrome.

  Steve went to collect his equipment. When he opened the cupboard door and saw the variety of possibly necessary things, he froze in bewilderment. He was about to walk on the open surface of another planet for the first time, but he had no idea what equipment he would need.

  “Hey, Clive, what are you going to take with you?” asked Steve, turning towards Clive, who was rummaging about in the baggage compartment of one of the harriers. Hearing the question, he stopped what he was doing and asked, “What?”

  “I asked what you are going to take with you,” said Steve, louder this time.

  Clive looked out at Steve from the baggage compartment. “Take water and oxygen, and check the battery charge on the spacesuit. Better take a first aid kit too. And a few dry ration packs.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” muttered Steve. He picked up a rucksack and began to pack it with what Clive had suggested. “But there’s a first aid kit in the harrier, isn’t there?”

  Clive again stopped rummaging and looked out of the baggage compartment. “The medical kit in the harrier is optimised for emergencies, the field kit contains something extra.”

  “How does he know all these things?” thought Steve to himself.

  After packing everything necessary in the rucksack, and checking the reserves of water and oxygen, Steve took off his clothes, leaving himself in just a vest and shorts. Taking a spacesuit from the rack, he set about getting into it. To his surprise, this was somewhat easier than he had thought.

  The spacesuit consisted of a one-piece costume made of an airtight elastic material. It was all in one piece from the heels to the neck. Round the neck was a ring of hard material, to which the helmet had to be attached. The spacesuit was based on long experience of open spaces on other planets, and had everything that was needed. It was also quite comfortable.

  The life support system enabled the most comfortable internal temperature and pressure to be maintained, whether the wearer was moving or at rest. In the event of fractures or other mechanical injuries to the limbs, the spacesuit analysed the damaged area, introduced a local anaesthetic and put pressure on the supplying arteries to stop blood flow. It also fixed the limb, if necessary, applying something like plaster at the required point and letting it set.

  The spacesuit’s sensors, scattered all over its internal surface, were able to read control signals from the brain to the limbs, so that even an arm with severed nerves was able to carry out certain important functions, such as opening the visor, switching the supply to the spare battery, and disconnecting non-critical elements of the equipment.

  Experience showed that in critical situations, this manipulation method was more reliable than simple voice control. In conditions of oxygen starvation, severe damage or other extreme conditions, the speech centres of the brain often failed more rapidly than the motor centres. It took quite a while for spacesuit designers to discover this and many astronauts had to pay with their lives for the initial design. But once it had been realised, many lives were saved.

  Steve touched a flashing green light. The spacesuit at once opened out as if cut from top to bottom. Steve put the costume on and pressed the same button again. The spacesuit instantly closed, fitting tightly round Steve’s body.

  “Not bad!” said Steve to himself.

  The spacesuit not only fitted like a glove, it was also very light, convenient and pleasant, due to its actively maintaining the temperature regime and regulating the humidity. In fact it was probably more comfortable to be in the costume than out of it.

  Next to the exit lock was a wide metallic-coloured strip, which reflected as well as an ordinary mirror. Seeing his reflection in it, Steve began pirouetting like a schoolgirl trying on a ball gown for her graduation ball. The costume certainly stressed the good points of his figure.

  Clive, noticing this, grinned. “Maybe you should try the footwear on too to get the full picture? I think stiletto heels would be perfect!”

  Steve stopped pirouetting, but continued looking at himself in the reflective strip.

  “The main thing, Clive, is not to forget to check the battery charge of the harriers, otherwise it will be a hard slog on foot,” he said, bending his right arm and tensing the biceps.

  Clive nodded, and, muttering something, went to put on his costume. He was less of a sportsman than Steve, so he didn’t find the spacesuit so easy. The legs were no problem, but somehow he just couldn’t get his arm into the sleeve.

  “Hey, you strutting peacock, come and help me put this spacesuit on!” called Clive, after several unsuccessful attempts to thrust his arm into the sleeve.

  Steve finally stopped admiring himself in the mirror and went to help Clive. When Clive at last got the spacesuit on, Steve turned back, picked up the rucksack and went over to the red harrier. After loading it with everything needed, he turned to Clive. “Well, are you ready?”

  Clive nodded.

  Steve looked at the clock. It was not long till sunset. He looked round the compartment for something useful to do, but not finding anything, sat down on a toolbox.

  “Pause for thought? Just to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything,” he proposed.

  Clive rested his elbow on a rounded projection of the wall. It was quiet, apart from the wind howling and scattering fine Martian sand over the bottom and walls of the ship. It was cold outside, the wind was strong. The Martian desert and the fading light from the dim Sun, which was already down below the horizon, looked very inhospitable. This lifeless appearance was alarming. He had no desire at all to leave the ship and travel God knows where, and at night too. The more so since as night fell on Mars, the temperature dropped below minus 50 degrees Celsius. If anything should happen to the spacesuit’s internal air conditioning somewhere far away from the ship...

  Steve silently looked at Clive, and Clive
at Steve. This went on for some time.

  “You know, Steve,” said Clive, breaking the unpleasant silence, “it looks as if this whole business is beginning to slip out of our hands.”

  “I’ve felt that for a long time. What I particularly dislike about it is that they don’t want to reveal their plans. They’re always changing the subject, trying to avoid the issue,” replied Steve.

  Clive nodded. “You know me, I’m a hundred per cent on the side of peaceful diplomacy. I have thought from the very beginning, and remain convinced, that the further a civilisation has advanced, the more humane it should be, if only because new technology brings with it new means of mutual destruction. If the level of aggression within the population is not reduced, they will simply beat each other’s brains out before they conquer space. This is as true for us as it is for them. But here there is something not quite right, something different. Maybe the General is right after all, and we should prepare for war.”

  Steve looked at Clive for some time, then down at the floor.

  “I’m sorry to hear that from you, Clive, very sorry indeed,” said Steve softly. “I’d feel happier if you had continued to maintain your own view.”

  “No, Steve, I do still keep to my former opinion to some extent, it’s just that the situation is unfolding in some strange way. I am not abandoning my theory, but possibly we just don’t understand the situation.”

  “How should it be understood?”

  “I myself don’t know yet. I do have some thoughts on the subject, but they won’t yet come together.”

  Steve spread his arms.

  “You’re not the only one with that problem. All of us in that hall were confused, you could see that.”

  Clive nodded in reply.

  Steve looked at his watch again, then glanced out of the porthole. The sky could still easily be seen from the brightly lit ship, but the landscape was already too dark to see the details.