A Step Beyond

by Christopher K Anderson

  The newscaster was in her mid-forties and had grown more attractive with age. Her hair was dark and cut short in a style that had fallen out of fashion several years before, but she bore the style well, and Carter felt certain that no one, even her producer, would suggest a change. He stared unabashedly at her blouse and cursed when her image was replaced by a news clip. The planet Mars appeared on the screen, but much of its familiar markings were missing. They were replaced by dark swirls. The title GLOBAL DUST STORM appeared in black letters across the screen.

  He could hear Nelson approaching, then felt a hand on his shoulder. Neither said anything.

  A shot of Carter’s cast appeared on the screen. The camera pulled back to show his entire body leaning upon a pair of makeshift crutches. Balancing most of his weight on the crutch farther from his broken leg, he lifted his free arm and waved at the camera. The shot switched to Nelson, who was studying the most recent weather map. He looked up briefly and smiled. A businesslike voice was commenting upon the crew being in good spirits. A brief shot of the Russian crew, then two still photos of Endicott and Vladimir, a photo of Brunnet, then Dr. James D. Cain standing behind a podium, besieged by reporters and flashing bulbs.

  Dr. Cain threw a switch on the panel built into the podium, and a satellite picture of Mars appeared behind him. As the lights dimmed, a laser beam sprang from the pointer in his hand. “This area, as you can see, has no visible surface features. They are blocked from our view by the beginnings of a global dust storm. It has formed a veil over the two landing sites and—”

  Carter turned off the volume and glanced at his watch. “What are you doing?” Nelson asked.

  “Timing the broadcast.”

  Nelson considered this, but refrained from comment. They had just watched a similar broadcast a half hour earlier. The mosaic of Mars was replaced by a photograph of Amazonis Planitia; the entire photograph was a blur except for its northern edge. Nelson watched the silent screen for a while, then said, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “They say this thing could last nearly three months.”

  “The global storm, yes. But the winds are relatively light. Ten to thirty kilometers. The lander can handle that. We’ve got nineteen days before the launch window to Earth closes. That gives us plenty of time to pick a safe launch date.”

  “Not if we’re caught in the same storm that struck the Russians,” Carter said. “They’re reporting winds over two hundred kilometers per hour.”

  “It should let up in a few days.”

  The news station flashed its logo on the screen. The picture switched to the Russian press room and Colonel Schebalin, who was fielding questions from reporters. A final shot of Mars, features obliterated, and the news anchor was beginning another story as if the first had never taken place. The buzzer for the food startled both men.

  “Exactly three minutes,” Carter observed wryly. “That’s a minute and a half less than yesterday’s report.”

  “You should take it as a positive sign,” Colonel Nelson replied. “There is a direct relation between airtime and perceived danger.”

  Carter gazed at his food with disappointment. He switched the monitor to a view of the surface. The sky was overcast with what appeared to be yellow clouds of dust. Other than that there was no other evidence of a global dust storm. The sand on the ground did not move. A readout on the lower part of the screen showed that the wind speed was only eighteen kilometers per hour.

  “Did you replace the C02-detector cartridges this morning?”

  Carter nodded that he had. He did not like the way the sky looked. It had the eerie stillness of the calm before a storm. With his leg still healing there wasn’t much they could do on the surface. The risk was too great to conduct an EVA with one astronaut. It seemed to him that they should just leave. But he knew that there were surface experiments that still needed to be collected, and that in a few days his leg would be strong enough for him to participate in their collection.

  “How are you feeling?” Nelson asked.

  “I’ll survive.” Carter swept up the remaining juices with his fingers as he stared out at the barren landscape. He was troubled that his immobility had resulted in the cancellation of several of the mission objectives and that it seemed now to be a factor in most of the decisions that were made.

  Dust Storm

  Propelled by the force of Komarov’s fist pounding smartly against the table, an aluminum meal tray with two empty food containers jumped several centimeters into the air and flipped twice before landing upon the floor. The resulting clatter did not distract Tatiana from the monitor that displayed the tarp flapping loosely in the wind.

  “Damn,” Komarov cursed. The faintly foul smell of rehydrated eggs filled the compartment. He took a sip of his coffee and nearly burned his mouth. “I’ll radio Kaliningrad and inform them we are going out for an emergency EVA to secure the tarp.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait till the storm has passed?” Tatiana asked. “I’m worried about dust buildup in the engine manifolds.” “We’re not supposed to leave the lander during a local storm,” she said. “It’s a safety violation.”

  “Unless it is an emergency,” Komarov replied. “And I consider this an emergency. The dust could interfere with the operation of the engines.”

  “I agree,” Tatiana conceded. She still felt it would be better to wait. The storm was only supposed to last another twelve hours.

  “Meet me in the airlock,” Komarov said. “I’ll inform Takashi.”

  Komarov found the scientist bent over a microscope in the laboratory, which was a multipurpose compartment, much too small, that also served as the crew quarters. Satomura often skipped meals or ate them without bothering to prepare them properly. He felt his time was better spent working. Komarov, who now stood directly behind the hunched back of the scientist, cleared his throat. His presence was acknowledged with a low grumble. Having relayed his intent to perform an EVA and the need for Satomura to monitor the activity, Komarov left, uncertain that he had been heard.

  It was not until he and Tatiana completed their final cross-check that Satomura emerged from the lab and took his place at the command station.

  “All systems check,” he said. “You are clear for EVA.” “Opening airlock portal,” Komarov replied.

  They had tied blankets around their suits to protect them from the dust. A rope, thirty-five meters in length, was attached to a harness that crisscrossed the torso of each of their space suits. It was connected to a hook on the wall. Komarov tugged on the ropes to make certain they were secured, then keyed in the final sequence that opened the portal.

  The tarp was billowing outward, and a faint reddish mist blew into the airlock. He could see through the tarp; it was made of a clear plastic. The sky was overcast, and a cloud of dust was heading toward the lander. The eastern edge of the tarpaulin had pulled free from the ground and had allowed an opening for the wind and the dust to enter. The dust came in bursts. He could vaguely make out the loose coils of rope where the dirigible had broken free from its moorings. A strong gust had sent it into the side of the canyon.

  They could hear the howling of the storm through their helmets as they climbed down the ladder and made for the eastern edge of the tarpaulin. The wind was blowing at a speed of 150 kilometers per hour, but they could barely feel it. The dust streaked past them and made it difficult for them to see. Two of the stakes that held the covering to the ground had come loose. Tatiana held the tarp in place while Komarov pounded the stakes into the rocky surface. She looked through the plastic and when a wave of dust had passed saw that the surface appeared unchanged. The winds were not strong enough to lift the sand. When they had finished, they took a moment to look at each other and were surprised to see that the blankets, which had been white, had turned red from the dust.

  They then noticed that the lower half of the lander was also red. That troubled Tatiana. She got down on her knees and examined a nozzle extension. She did not like w
hat she saw. The interior was caked with dust. She told Komarov to get some brushes and began to clear what she could with her hand. She decided they would have to rig some sort of extension to the vacuum, but could wait to do so until after the storm. They had worked for two and half hours when Tatiana straightened her back and declared that she had done all she could. Komarov was exhausted and did not object. Tatiana had been avoiding him since the beginning of the storm, which he decided had been Satomura’s doing. But it did not trouble him as much as he had thought it would. Now that they would be leaving the planet soon, he was growing more concerned about Vladimir. He did not want to push him over the edge.

  Upon closing the portal, they dropped to the floor and listened to the howling of the wind. It took nearly an hour to clear the dust from the airlock. The blankets they had worn to protect their suits were impregnated with the fine particles. They had to store the blankets in plastic bags. They stretched their arms and tested their legs, taking small steps as if to make certain they could still walk.

  As they stepped into the main compartment of the lander, they were grabbed by the shoulders and wrapped together in a large hug. Utterly shocked, but too weak to resist, they stood in place and waited for Satomura to release them. Satomura took a step back, held them at arm’s length, and was about to make another joyful lunge for them when Komarov raised his hand in protest. Tatiana retreated to the nearest chair.

  “What has gotten into you?” Komarov demanded.

  “Follow me,” Satomura cried excitedly, and plunged down the corridor.

  Komarov and Tatiana exchanged curious glances. Tatiana shrugged and stood up. It was clear to both they had no other choice; neither had ever seen Satomura so excited, and they knew he would hunt them down if they did not follow. Pausing for a moment to gather their strength, they plodded after him.

  They found Satomura in the laboratory, standing proudly next to the microscope with his left hand extended, asking them to take a look. Neither Komarov nor Tatiana had the slightest clue as to the source of all the excitement, but when they saw the microscope and the glee in Satomura’s face, they both felt chills run down their spines.

  Komarov took a hesitant step forward.

  “Go ahead,” Satomura said, encouraging him.

  The entire microscope, except for the eyepiece, was encased in a small glass box that sat upon a table. Built into the side of the box were two openings, attached to which, dangling limp, were a pair of thin plastic gloves. The outside glass was spotted with condensation. Komarov was familiar enough with the box to notice with some surprise that it had been altered. The glass had been tinted pink and an additional tube fed into a hole in the rear of the box. This angered him since it was a violation of safety regulations, but he did not say anything. He sat down upon the stool and slid his hands into the gloves. Taking a deep breath, he cocked his head and placed an eye upon the lens.

  It took him several seconds to adjust the image. He saw a colony of what he assumed to be single-celled creatures moving frantically about in a film of pink liquid. He was reminded of the amoebas he had studied in grade school. He heard Satomura talking excitedly in the background and could feel Tatiana nudging his shoulder. He did not want to relinquish the microscope. “One moment,” he said. He watched with amazement as a cell divided in half. Two cells, slightly smaller than the original, otherwise identical, floated their separate ways. He pushed back his chair and stood up; his hands were wet with perspiration.

  “What do you make of it?” he asked, not having heard a word Satomura had said.

  The scientist shook his head at the interruption and allowed several seconds to pass before he continued. “Fission is the self-replication of a molecule. The whole process of evolution began with that primary function. The Drake equation predicted the inevitability of this moment. It calculates the probability of intelligent life on other planets.” Tatiana pushed past her commander and sat down. She held her breath as she placed her right eye against the eyepiece of the microscope. “The equation is quite simple. Several factors, such as the number of stars and the number of planets around those stars and so on, are multiplied together to give a probability. There were six factors in the original equation. It has since been modified to determine the probability of life not only on other planets, but on all other possible habitats. Even space itself. Life need not exist on a planet.” Komarov was more amazed by Satomura’s manner than by the content of his speech. The permanent frown had been replaced by a genuine, untainted smile. “The probability calculated by Drake was fifty billion to one.”

  This last figure caught Komarov’s attention, and Tatiana actually looked up from the microscope.

  “Fifty billion?” Komarov questioned incredulously. “Approximately, of course,” Satomura responded with a laugh. “And that is for intelligent life. The probability of primitive life-forms is considerably higher. You are looking at samples that were collected during our first trip to the geyser. We had the evidence nearly a month ago. I simply did not recognize it.”

  “How can that be?” Tatiana asked.

  “In certain respects the life-form is similar to the amoeba. When exposed to adverse conditions, it assumes a circular shape, ejects most of its liquid, and secretes a cyst membrane for protection. Not being a biologist, I mistook the damn thing for a grain of sand.” This time he roared with laughter. “It will shed its shell when the environment is once again favorable. The temperature I started with was much too high, and, unknowingly, I fried the cells before they had a chance to revive. The breakthrough came while you were in the airlock.” They waited as Satomura coughed and produced a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. Komarov glanced over at the altered enclosure with some uncertainty. Satomura returned the handkerchief to his pocket, then proudly pointed at the enclosure. “Thirty-three minutes ago I discovered life on Mars.”

  The two cosmonauts stared at the wild-eyed scientist, speechless. He stood there, waiting for them to congratulate him. Komarov clasped his hand and shook it heartily; Tatiana swung back to the microscope to make certain she had not been hallucinating.

  “I must inform Endicott,” Satomura announced, and left the compartment in a great hurry.

  Overwhelmed by the event, Komarov sat down to collect his thoughts. He looked at Tatiana, who was bent intently over the microscope, then at the altered enclosure, then back at Tatiana. His gaze settled upon the enclosure.

  “The old man did it,” she said with a conviction that seemed to indicate she always knew he would.

  “I don’t think that thing is safe,” Komarov said. His voice was low and serious and had a sobering effect.

  She knew immediately what he meant. Would the altered enclosure safely contain the microscopic creatures within? She stood up to obtain a better view of the contraption and, after some thought, took a precautionary step backwards. Komarov brushed past her. They studied the joints, the rubber seals, the painted glass, and the black tube leading to a jar neither could recall ever seeing. The bottom half of the jar contained a reddish liquid that bubbled, and the top half a pinkish haze. After several minutes of circling, they decided the enclosure did not pose an immediate threat.

  “Nonetheless,” Komarov said, “it is in violation of safety regulations. He will have to dismantle it.”

  “He will not like that.” Tatiana decided that she did not like Komarov’s attitude. It was so like him to cite regulations to get his way. “He will challenge the decision. This is perhaps the most significant discovery in the history of mankind. RSA may back him.”

  “He can continue his research aboard the Druzhba,” Komarov retaliated. He looked tired and irritated. “I will not permit him to endanger our lives like this.”

  The sky was overcast with yellow clouds of dust. Otherwise, the planet appeared normal. Carter steered around a rock that blocked the way of the rover and, looking out at the horizon, decided the term “dust storm” was inappropriate for the calm conditions that prevailed. His leg was s
till wrapped, but had healed enough for him to move about. The wrapping was underneath the liquid cooling garment. He and Nelson were en route to a lava tube, the entrance to which a miniature rover had found several days earlier. The vehicle had only explored the first forty meters because its radio signal wasn’t strong enough to pass through the tube’s ceiling. The tube was exceptionally large and was at the base of a geological formation that appeared to have been carved by water rather than lava. Carter doubted the tube’s scientific value was the reason the EVA had been approved. Now that the Russians had discovered life on Mars, he figured the Americans were desperate to accomplish something of equal importance.

  This was the first time Carter was out since he had broken his leg, and he found it difficult to concentrate on his driving as he thought of the tube. He had been inside several caves on Earth as a child, and his recollection of the experience invoked feelings of awe and wonder. The lava tube, at 50 kilometers in length and 250 meters in width, would dwarf the caves of his childhood. He had read that a lava tube would make a good location for the habitats of future explorers, since its ceiling provided protection against solar radiation. This thought intrigued him. He wondered what it would be like to live underground for an extended period of time, and decided that it couldn’t be any worse than being cooped up in a spacecraft for nine months. Nelson was pointing out a detour on the map that took them around a smaller tube. The map was a seismic profile of the sub-surface structures. It scrolled across the monitor as they moved so that they could see the structures immediately ahead of them.

  Prior to their landing, and again just prior to the EVA, a rover from the supply ship had sounded for tubes and other structures that might pose a danger. A tube, which was formed by flowing lava that had crusted over, sometimes formed a mound at the surface, but not always; usually the only visible sign was a line of pits that marked its path. The pits were best seen from an aerial viewpoint. Since tubes were most often near the surface, their thin ceilings could collapse under the weight of whatever passed over them.