A Step Beyond

by Christopher K Anderson

  “The fish that produced that had to be hell of a lot bigger than one meter,” Carter said.

  “It wasn’t a fish,” Satomura replied. “I have observed the same phenomenon several times now. It seems to come in thirteen-minute intervals. I believe it’s the primary source of the gases that fill the cave. It could be caused by the periodic release of gases built up from a hot vent. Such vents might have been where life first began on Earth.”

  Another cephalopod-like object came swimming toward them, and Carter shined his flashlight at it to scare it away. “I’m going to take a closer look at the wall,” he said. Nelson nodded, but did not go with him. He bent down to examine the water.

  Before Carter had even reached the wall, he was certain that the glowing spots were not phosphorescent rock. They were some sort of vegetation. It was similar in appearance to some of the lichen he had seen on Earth, with the notable exception that it glowed. He wondered why. And the spots were different colors, which seemed even stranger. The spots varied in size, from two to thirty centimeters in diameter, and were roughly circular. None of the spots actually touched each other. He then noticed some tiny movement. At first he thought it was just a trick of the light, but he approached the wall and saw that there were tiny insects crawling over the spots. These insects were no larger than aphids, and were the same white color as aphids, but they did not have any legs. They were pulling themselves along by some sort of pseudopod that extended outward from their body whenever they wanted to move forward. He had never seen anything quite like it. Then he noticed that the creatures were crawling between the spots, forming long lines, like ants do when they’ve found food.

  “What do we have here?” Satomura said excitedly. He was watching the video from Carter’s camera. “There appears to be a symbiotic relationship between those wormlike creatures and the vegetation.”

  “Why does it glow?” Carter asked.

  “It could be a way to attract the worms. Or perhaps the colors signify different stages in the plant’s development, which triggers certain behaviors in the worms. Or the plants could just be different species. Difficult to say without further examination.”

  Carter stepped closer to the rock. He felt like collecting several of the tiny worms in his hand, but did not want to contaminate his suit. He was amazed at how quickly they moved.

  “We should bring back what we can,” Nelson said.

  “You’ll need to return for additional samples,” Satomura said. “The collection bags you have were not designed for transporting live specimens. A pressurized container is required.”

  “We may not have enough time. The next several days are filled with prelaunch activities.”

  “I’m certain they’ll make an exception.”

  Nelson realized that Satomura was probably right, but he did not say anything to indicate that he agreed. He motioned for Carter to join him. “I’m going to need your help in catching one of these things.”

  Carter walked over and looked down into the water. He saw one of the jellyfishlike creatures approaching the edge of the lake. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’m going to hook him with the end of the pole and throw him up on the shore. I want you to use the tongs and place him inside a bag. I’ll hold the bag open. Whatever you do, don’t touch him. He might possess some sort of defense mechanism.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if we came back with a net?”

  “Yes, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be back. We need to collect what we can now.”

  Carter pulled out a collection bag and laid it out on the ground. He then produced the tongs, which were normally used to collect rock samples. “Ready,” he said, taking several steps back so as to be out of the way.

  Nelson carefully dipped the end of the pole into the water and rested it on a rock as he waited for another jellyfish to appear. His pulse quickened. He did not have to wait long. With a sudden swipe he caught the creature from behind and lifted it out of the water. It fell onto the rocks, glowing brightly and waving its tentacles around wildly.

  “Jesus,” Carter said.

  Nelson picked up the bag and held it open.

  “I think we should kill it first,” Carter said. “I don’t like the look of those tentacles.”

  “You might be right,” Nelson said. He took the pole and thrust it into the creature. The tentacles wrapped tightly around the pole, then fell limp to the ground. Carter waited until he was certain it was dead before picking it up with the tongs. He placed the lifeless creature inside the bag. Nelson sealed the bag shut.

  They looked at the bag and wondered about what they had just done. Nelson held the bag away from his body so that it would not touch him, even though he knew that there was no danger. The bag was designed to contain contaminants safely.

  Carter did not feel good about killing the alien life-form. But he knew it had to be done. The creature had to be examined. This knowledge did not make him feel any better. He had followed halfheartedly the debate leading to the decision that they should bring back life-forms. There were those who felt any life found should be left undisturbed. And there were those who felt the life had to be studied. He had not paid much attention to the debate, but then he didn’t really believe that they would find anything. Nor did the majority of the scientists, for that matter. But since the scientific value of such a discovery was so high, the outcome was never really in doubt. He watched as Nelson placed the bag on the ground.

  “We need to collect a bag of that vegetation and some of those worms, or whatever they are,” Nelson said.

  They walked over to the wall where Carter had been standing and scraped the mosslike substance from the rock with a rake. It came off easily. They filled a bag with the substance and another with the worms. As he worked, Carter forgot about the guilt he had felt and began to wonder what the scientists on Earth would think about the samples they would bring back. He almost felt regret that he did not have children. He could see himself bouncing a grandchild on his knee, telling him about the time he had discovered life on Mars. He was careful not to touch the samples with his suit. They would have to undergo a

  thorough decontamination. When the bags were filled, he took one last look at the lake and watched as the geyser blew water into the air.

  As the two astronauts walked back to the rover, mission control was talking excitedly about the cave. Because of the delay in the transmission, those on Earth had first seen it only moments ago. Carter chuckled to himself when mission control gave its belated recommendation to explore the cave.

  They were preparing for the launch of the Gagarin, and each member of the crew was wondering if the engines would fire, although not one of them expressed this thought out loud. The prelaunch diagnostics had gone flawlessly, so they rationalized that this provided a good reason not to be concerned. The local storm had long since passed, and wind speed was thirteen kilometers per hour, which would not affect the liftoff. There was still dust from the global storm in the lower atmosphere, but that did not trouble them. The launch was to take place in fifteen minutes.

  Vladimir appeared to be looking down upon his colleagues from the monitor above their heads. The strain of the past month had sucked the fullness from his cheeks and made him look much older. His condition had worsened after his last talk with Tatiana, but in the past several days he had shown some improvement. His eyes were clear, no longer streaked with red lines; he had apparently put aside the bottle. His hair was neatly trimmed. His voice did not tremble, although his speech was cautious, sometimes disjointed. He was wearing his uniform. The crew had noticed the changes and were grateful, for it was Vladimir who would rendezvous with the lander when it reached the appropriate altitude. The fuel in the main engines of the lander would be spent. The sixteen reaction-control-system rockets would still have several hundred pounds of thrust, but they were to be used for docking maneuvers. They had to rely upon Vladimir in order to make it safely back to the mother ship.

  I
t was clear that Vladimir’s rehabilitation had not been entirely successful. He found it difficult to maintain eye contact for any length of time. His eyes often shifted downward. Tatiana felt it was from shame for his outbursts. But perhaps more noticeable were some of the difficulties he still experienced with his speech. He would speak clearly for several minutes, then suddenly start stumbling over his words. It was as if he had forgotten why he was talking. To recover he would either change the subject or terminate the discussion altogether. He often felt uncomfortable during these episodes, and avoided them by keeping his conversations brief and to the point.

  He was careful not to speak with Tatiana except when absolutely necessary, and then he would speak to her strictly as a professional. Tatiana responded in the same manner. She did not want to disturb what appeared to be an honest attempt toward recovery. Their differences could wait until she was safely off the planet. Satomura had recommended that she should avoid mentioning Komarov. He was afraid that the very sound of his name spoken from her lips might be disastrous. She suspected that he was right. Satomura had also advised Komarov to keep his communication with Vladimir at a strictly professional level. Komarov did as he was told. Endicott was the only one Satomura permitted to speak freely with Vladimir.

  Satomura’s tactics appeared to work. During the past week they had been in constant contact with Vladimir, and not once had there been a problem. Satomura knew that he could only control his end of the conversation and that the true danger lay at the other end. For reasons Satomura did not fully understand, which made him even more cautious, Vladimir appeared equally eager to avoid another breakdown.

  What motivated Vladimir was an overwhelming fear that Tatiana might die. In the past couple of days it had become an obsession. He was plagued by nightmares that he failed in the docking maneuver and that the lander, running short of fuel, crashed back into the surface. He saw her face pressed against the cold glass of the small portal. The glass was wet from her tears. He knew that the dream was flawed, that the lander would not crash if the docking failed, at least not immediately. It would remain in orbit. The crew might even be able to do an emergency EVA from one ship to the other. But if they were not able to do the EVA, the crew aboard the lander would die when the life-support systems finally failed. This thought horrified him even more than his dream. He had begun to wonder if he was still capable of playing his part in the docking maneuver. He had stopped drinking, cut his hair, and put his uniform back on in an attempt to restore his self-confidence. But he was experiencing symptoms of withdrawal from the alcohol, and this frightened him. The symptoms were not severe, but they were sufficient to dull his reflexes.

  Satomura glanced at Vladimir’s image, then out the window at the yellow dust clouds that darkened the horizon. He looked at the launch clock. Three minutes and thirty-five seconds to ignition. There was nothing left for him to do but sit and wait and watch the seconds disappear. Tatiana was calling out items from the checklist, and Komarov responded each time with a positive acknowledgment. Satomura thought of the recognition that he would receive back on Earth for having discovered the first extraterrestrial life-form. He would have to isolate himself from the reporters, at least as much as his country would allow. The thought annoyed him. A low growl emanated from his throat, but no one heard the sound, and if they had, they would have simply dismissed it as just another one of his disgruntled moods. He glanced at the clock, then back up at Vladimir.

  The young pilot appeared busy. He must be reviewing the burn times for the rendezvous, thought Satomura. He looked at Vladimir’s face more closely. There was something there that unsettled him. At first he could not place it. His appearance, for the most part, appeared normal; a casual observer would not give him a second thought, other, perhaps, than to think that this was a man bent on his work. That was it, thought Satomura. There was an intensity there that he had never seen in Vladimir before. As Satomura pondered its possible significance, he glanced out the window and suddenly realized that this would be his last glimpse of the Martian surface. With only a few seconds remaining, he attempted to take in every detail and stamp what he saw indelibly into his memory. A sense of sadness and regret came over him. He did not want to leave. He felt as if his work had just begun. He knew that he was too old ever to return to Mars and that even if he were not, the radiation he had received from the solar flare on the outbound leg had put an end to his career as an astronaut.

  “Thirty seconds to ignition,” Tatiana announced. Komarov’s attention was focused entirely on the instrument panel before him and the master arm that ignited the ascent engine. It only had two positions—ON and OFF—and it was his responsibility to make the go, no-go decision. The ascent engine was powered by a mixture of fluorine/oxygen and methane and produced thirty-five thousand pounds of thrust. To reduce the likelihood of a malfunction, the engineers had kept the engine simple. This, however, did not alleviate Komarov’s concern, for he had seen firsthand the sand that had managed to work its way into the plug nozzle. They had removed what they could, and he hoped it was sufficient. The Gagarin would have to obtain a speed of 17,500 kilometers per hour to reach low-Mars orbit. If the engine fired, that wouldn’t be a problem. It would then ignite again to put the lander in the same orbit as the Druzhba. These thoughts and their contingencies and the actions he would have to take raced through Komarov’s mind as he prepared himself for the piloting of the Gagarin.

  “Mode control auto,” Tatiana said.

  Komarov held his breath as he threw the switch.

  “Master arm on.” To a stranger’s ear the tension in his voice would have gone unnoticed, but Satomura jerked around to examine his commander.

  “Nine,” Tatiana began, “eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . engine arm ascent . . . go!”

  They braced themselves for the initial g impact. When the launch clock reached zero seconds remaining, the only sound heard was that of the environmental-control system circulating oxygen. They did not feel any vibrations or hear any rumblings. The Gagarin remained deathly silent on the surface. Tatiana dropped her head into her hands.

  “The engines have failed to ignite,” Komarov said calmly. Satomura unstrapped his safety harness and stood up, stretching his limbs as if they had been confined by iron shackles. He saw that Komarov was entering commands to shut down the launch sequence. Tatiana had her head cradled in her arms. There was nothing here for him to do.

  “I will be in the lab if you require me,” he said.

  Komarov spun rapidly around and raised a hand as if he were going to order him to stay, but before he spoke his stern expression melted into gloom, and his hand dropped weakly to his side. The futility of his efforts had struck him. His head sank slowly into his shoulders as he nodded his acknowledgment.

  Carter eased himself into the pilot’s seat and gave Nelson a thumbs-up. Behind him and to his left was an empty chair. He gazed at it momentarily, then turned away to look out the small window. The sky was still dark with yellow clouds. The global dust storm had not yet passed. But he was not all that concerned, since the wind speed was well below the abort thresh-old. He scanned the instrument panel as he chewed a stick of gum, which he had placed in his mouth prior to locking down his helmet.

  The launch checklist appeared on the monitor. He read each item out loud, and Nelson responded with a sharp: “Check.” When they had finished fifteen minutes later, Carter instructed the computer to initiate the launch sequence. He allowed himself to relax. His remaining responsibility prior to the actual launch was to arm the engines. The computer would handle the rest.

  He rested his head against the back of his helmet. He wondered what the Russians were doing and what he would do if he were in their situation. The ascent engine for the Shepard was of a different design. It used a different fuel mixture. Nitrogen tetroxide and hydrazine, which burned on contact, eliminating the need for an igniter. Diagnostics performed by the Druzhba computer had revealed it was the igniter that ha
d failed. The Russian Space Agency believed that the hard landing might have cracked the insulation that protected the ignition system, and that dust from the local storm shorted the circuitry. The crew would have to dismantle the engine to know for certain, and they did not possess the proper tools or equipment to do that. It was not something that they could fix. Carter then thought of their second trip to the cave. They had managed to capture one of the cephalopod-like creatures in a pressurized container. Satomura had said that it probably would not live for more than a few days. The pressurized container was strapped down inside the airlock.

  Carter was stirred from his thoughts by the computer as it announced the commencement of the final sequence. He sat up straight and strapped the safety belt across his waist. A quick glance out the window revealed that the weather conditions had not changed. He watched the monitor as the computer displayed the launch sequence activities.

  “Verify rendezvous radar circuit breakers are pulled,” Nelson requested.

  “Radar rendezvous switch in APP,” Carter replied. “The circuits are pulled.”

  “Abort to abort stage reset.”

  “Roger, push-button reset.” Carter glanced out the window. The wind speed was holding steady at twenty-three kilometers per hour. “Switching to upper-stage batteries.”

  “Updating guidance telemetry.”

  “Guidance telemetry received. Mode control is computer-assist. Deadband minimum.”

  In bright blue characters the computer flashed ONE MINUTE REMAINING across the upper half of the launch screen. The NOGO light was flashing at him from a bright red window. He closed the window.

  “Master arm on,” Carter said as he armed the engines for ignition.

  “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . engine arm ascent . . . go!”

  Carter felt his seat shake as the ascent engine exploded. A smaller set of explosions simultaneously severed the nuts and bolts and hoses that connected the upper and lower stages of the Martian excursion module. The half g Carter felt as the lander started to leave the surface sent an exhilarating rush of adrenaline through his system.