“There are temperature differences of several degrees!” Francesca exclaimed.
Martin checked the calibration. Francesca was right. Were there geological processes that created such an image? Maybe cracks in the rock that transport more heat from the interior than their surroundings?
“Watson, I need an in-depth analysis.” Martin had to find out whether the temperature differences conformed to the structure of the rock. This would be the simplest explanation, but we also have to watch out that our desires do not dictate what we see.
Since she was the pilot, Francesca was required to confirm the order. Then Watson bombarded the area below them with everything their vehicle could muster—gamma rays, x-rays, terahertz, UV, radio waves. These channels had different penetration depths, depending on the rocks, temperature, pressure, and so on. A very precise image of what lay below them would be generated once these measurements were combined.
The calculations took a while, even though they also used the main computer which was connected via the fiber-optic cable. After seven minutes and thirteen seconds—Martin had followed the time with the seconds-display of his watch—they received a result. The silicate-rich rock met their expectations. They were facing the uppermost layer of a differentiated core. Not every moon possessed such a core. Such a temperature distribution had not been detected on any of the known celestial bodies, save for Earth. This proved energy was produced, distributed, and consumed here. We have caught life red-handed, even though we have yet to discover living beings.
“Do you know what that means, Francesca?” he asked.
The pilot nodded and exhibited a triumphant smile. Martin felt goosebumps on his arms. It is here, extraterrestrial life. Right here, so near we can almost touch it. We have found what mankind has been seeking for so long—and I am part of it! It was stunning, and Martin had to hold on to his table. What does it look like, though?
In order to find out, they would have to take samples. Francesca already knew what to do when the vehicle approached the bottom. The analyzer modules in the jets did not report any significant changes in the composition of the water. It was not the water that represented the biotope, but the bottom, the layer where the alkaline liquid and the rocks reacted to each other. Therefore the percentage of biological material in the geysers was relatively low, and this was also the reason the analyzers had not yet discovered anything.
“Five... four... three... two. Arm range reached,” Watson reported.
“Autonomous hover,” Francesca ordered before she bent over her console and reached into a cavity. This was the ‘glove’ that would transmit her finger movements to the robotic arm at the bow of Valkyrie. The arm was extremely flexible, and during tests its hand had even succeeded in picking up a sheet of paper from a smooth surface. This task was easy by comparison. The fingers were supposed to scrape some coating from the rock.
Martin watched the hand on the monitor. It looks like it is trying to tickle the sea floor. If I were Enceladus, the giant from Greek mythology whose name was given to this moon, I would giggle now. The display could not show what the hand was scratching off the floor. A jet sucked in the material, like a vacuum cleaner, and then analyzed it. However, under infrared light, Martin saw the procedure had changed the structure of the colonization. The hand had reached part of a particularly bright line. The area where the line had ended before was now as dark as the naked surface of the rock.
What does this obvious living layer consist of? he speculated. In the low-oxygen deep seas of Earth, I would assume it to be a colony of anaerobic algae. I wonder what it is here, 1.2 billion kilometers away from Earth. Perhaps it is primitive bacteria, or has it already evolved into multicellular organisms?
The first results showed up on the screen. These were snapshots because the instrument could not arrange the cells properly. Instead, it just took photos at various wavelengths and resolutions. Afterward, the software attempted to filter images belonging to the same object and combine them into an overall picture. The longer the analyzer worked, the more precise its results would become.
After the first photos, however, Martin slumped in his seat. His expectations had been too high. The structures he saw on the screen were clear and precise. This is not a good sign, since it means they are simple, even more so than I had hoped. Life has not used the long time in the ocean to refine its structure. Maybe evolution has not worked here because there is no competition, no conflict for survival, ending with the extinction of the inferior species, he speculated. The species of primitive cells Martin saw on the monitor might be billions of years old, but it probably had changed little from its ancestors.
He sat up again and scolded himself. We have made a groundbreaking discovery. Life is not a lucky accident. Even in our own solar system, it has developed twice under very different circumstances. The universe must be teeming with life.
Age of Questions, Line
There is:
The I.
The thoughts.
The ages.
The ages are not, they come and go. They are recorded in the Forest of Columns.
The First Age is the Age of Birth.
The Second Age is the Age of Struggle.
The Third Age is the Age of Peace and of the I.
The Fourth Age is the Age of Questions.
There is:
The doubts.
The waiting.
The curiosity of incomplete knowledge.
The pain.
The pain of the body and the pain of the questions.
December 20, 2046, Valkyrie
All of humanity wanted to congratulate them for their great discovery. Yesterday, Mission Control had transmitted greetings and congratulations from the U.S. President herself, the Chinese Prime Minister, the Russian Prime Minister, the German Chancellor, and the Japanese Emperor. Martin had avoided watching any of the news programs. I hope everything will die down by the time we return, so I will at least be able to go shopping in a supermarket without people bothering me. If not, I will have to volunteer for the next Mars mission.
He was tired. As the saying goes, you should ‘quit while you’re ahead.’ Arriving back in Earth orbit, then eight weeks’ vacation in the Caribbean with Jiaying—what a wonderful dream. He calculated it. I should be pretty well-off by the time I get home. I will have more than two years’ worth of salary in my account, more money than I have ever seen in one place.
However, the journey was not over yet. Mission Control had developed a systematic research program for him. When all is said and done, they do not want anyone to say they might have overlooked things, he surmised. We will collect so much data that researchers can use it to write dissertations for years to come. Even the analysis of the ELF data had taken years, though the amount of data gathered during this mission would be 50 times larger. Afterward, humanity would know the Enceladus Ocean inside and out, and there would be lots of new questions.
Valkyrie, Francesca explained to him, would systematically search a rectangle of 40 by 80 kilometers at the bottom of the Enceladus Ocean. They would take samples and classify them in order to generate as complete a picture as possible. Afterward, they would look at the water column above it. Temperature, pressure, salinity, pH value, currents—they would measure whatever could be measured. The Deep Space link of the spaceship would be pushed to the limits of its transmission capacity.
For Martin, this mostly meant boredom. The vehicle drove itself, and Francesca would supervise it. While her job did not sound particularly exciting, Martin’s task would be limited to watching her do this. Once a day he was supposed to talk for half an hour about the fascination of space, which was supposed to attract more viewers. Martin yawned.
“Look, back there,” Francesca said, tapping Martin on the shoulder. He opened his eyes.
“What?”
“On the radar image. At the range limit,” she directed.
The horizon, which otherwise was a straight line, seemed scragg
ly there.
Unsure, he asked, “What is that? An interference?”
“I already checked it while you were still asleep. That is no artifact. It is real.”
“Where are we? And where is that?”
“We have covered 35 kilometers. The radar echo is about 70 kilometers north-northeast,” Francesca said.
“That is not part of our plan, is it?”
“No.”
“Yet we are going there anyway, aren’t we?” Martin guessed.
“Sure, what did you expect?” Francesca placed her hands on her hips.
“Should I ask?”
“It is better to ask for forgiveness... and remember the dark sediment in the Tiger Stripes. We haven’t seen that again since we landed.”
Francesca is right. We will still have enough time to finish the research plan, he presumed, checking the position of Valkyrie. The pilot had already changed course. She seems as bored as I am.
Two hours later, scanning in all wavelengths, they came upon a formation of pillars. The Forest of Columns, Martin thought, and then wondered how that name, quite apt, had entered his mind.
“Looks like stalagmites,” Francesca observed.
Martin shook his head. “But they are immersed. How is the liquid supposed to drop down onto them so the sediments grow upward?”
The closer they came, the more obvious it was these columns had nothing in common with the limestone formations in terrestrial caves. They were perfectly round and did not taper upward. The instruments informed them that the columns had a height between two and ten meters.
“An enchanted forest,” Francesca said and gaped at the display. It was a grandiose scene, aloof and exotic.
“These are definitely not sediments,” Martin said. “The instruments show no currents that would regularly deposit material here, and even if there were, the columns would not have grown into perfect cylinders.”
Francesca nodded and turned toward him. “Maybe it’s some kind of corals?”
Martin was thinking. Theoretically, some phenomenon of chemical bonding could be responsible for a circular form being the only one possible. He did not know enough about the dynamics of saline solutions to exclude this option. Furthermore, research probably has not sufficiently investigated all the phases under conditions of high pressure and low temperatures, like here. No, they needed Jiaying’s expertise. Should I communicate with her? Make a short call? No, there will be time for that later, even though I really would like to see her face.
Martin asked, “Could we park Valkyrie on the sea floor close to the columns?”
“No problem.” Francesca tapped on something on the display. From this perspective, the forest was even more impressive because it was so symmetrical. Martin had seen kelp forests in the North Sea, swaying with the rhythm of the waves. This so-called forest looked completely different, like something from another world—which, of course, it was. Nothing moved, and its trunks stood rigid, looking like toys—or the experiments of an extraterrestrial giant.
Martin imagined he might walk among them. This will be a walk in the most exotic forest of the known universe. The PR department will certainly be very grateful for any recordings. In a fascinating sort of way, the forest seemed to invite him. The individual columns were one to two meters apart from each other. In his spacesuit he would fit comfortably between them. Maybe this way I can find out more than an analysis with Valkyrie’s instruments can provide. Of course, the vehicle has been aiming all its measurement devices at the forest for a while in order to force it to reveal its secrets. I can simply walk in and ask for information—how does that sound?
“It’s crazy,” Martin said, after he explained his plan to get out and walk among the columns. “Crazy, but doable, I think.”
“You’re insane,” Francesca said. “Count me out.”
“Well, that’s the plan.”
She circled her temple with her finger to indicate he was nuts. “I won’t stop you, though. Anyway, one person has to stay on board. Who knows what could be lurking out there? Forests are full of robbers, isn’t that what they say?”
“But our instruments don’t indicate anything, do they?” Martin said. “We only found extremely primitive cells. Any real danger is millions of years of evolution away.”
She shook her head. “Do what you like.”
Martin intended to do just that. And, after all, didn’t the pilot just say so? he reasoned. Normally, two-person teams are mandatory for EVAs, but then we are not in a vacuum. And after all, why do we have a pressure suit on the SuitPort? To be safe, he first consulted Watson. The AI did not see any problems. Water might transmit heat much better than a vacuum did, but then it was relatively warm here. The LCVG could handle it. Due to the low gravity of Enceladus, the pressure was tolerable. On Earth, he would have been in trouble at an ocean depth of 7,620 meters. He could even raise the pressure in the suit slightly above normal, which would shorten the pre-breathing phase. He did not mention his plans to Mission Control or the commander, though.
Half an hour later he was floating through the ancient water of the ocean. The vehicle’s searchlights illuminated the first rows of trees. Beyond this point it was dark, as the columns cast harsh shadows. Martin descended to the ocean floor. The first steps toward this sunken Atlantis, he thought in amazement. He gave Francesca the okay signal with his right hand and bounced into an unknown world.
Martin looked at his position as shown on his arm display. I have advanced fifteen meters into the forest. Here the columns were closer together. By the light of his helmet lamp the landscape looked even more mysterious. Or should I call it a building? he silently marveled. From the perspective of a pedestrian, the Forest of Columns seemed rather artificial, like the giant temple of a lost civilization. Martin knew, though, that nothing here had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. The columns had stood on the sea floor since they had come into existence.
The deeper he advanced into the forest, the more often the shadows cast by his lamp played tricks on him. Soon he felt he was not alone. There is a presence here I am not able to name. From the corner of his eye he seemed to see someone, or something, jump from shadow to shadow, though when he turned his head there was nothing there. It must be my imagination getting me all riled up, Martin rationalized. He did not report this to Francesca. In each row, the columns seemed to be getting older. First one in ten, then one in four or five showed signs of slight damage. The forest must have grown from the center, so the outermost columns are the youngest ones. He reported this observation to Francesca but left out the second part. When he looked backward, in the direction from which he had come, the columns appeared to stand closer to each other than before. His senses seemed to be running haywire.
“I cannot get through anymore, so I am turning around,” he said. Martin would not reach the center. Not due to lack of stamina, but because the forest seemed more and more menacing. I would like to see the root of the forest, but I do not feel up to facing what is waiting for me there.
“Okay, just take a few more samples,” Francesca instructed. “We could use the radiometric dating system on board. I would like to see whether your theory is correct.”
“Great idea,” he replied to the pilot’s request, and took the sample collection tool from his belt. It could hold up to five samples, which the tool not only picked up mechanically, but also stored in a sterile environment. He held the tool in front of him like a weapon and approached a column. He touched the spot where he wanted to apply the tool, shone his helmet light on it, and suddenly jerked back. He saw a symbol he already recognized scratched into the material. It is the structure of one of the two primitive kinds of cells from what Francesca collected from the ocean floor. This cell looked slightly different than the one in the on-board display, though. It lacked two of the organelles, the function of which he did not know. This might be an earlier version. Has there been something like evolution here, after all? And most of all, who has scratched the s
hape of the cell into the material?
He glanced sideways. This was not the only picture. Lots of symbols covered the column. The only things he recognized were raised structures—not scratched—which resembled the two cell types. Martin’s hands were trembling. The forest is much more than a temple. It might be a cemetery, or maybe an archive. It is certainly not the result of chance. I cannot imagine that one of the two Enceladus organisms we have analyzed is responsible for it.
Martin placed the tool on the column. The claw broke off a piece of material and swallowed it. Beneath it, another lighter-colored layer became visible. He touched the site of the fracture. Even it is covered by inexplicable symbols. Maybe we have made a mistake. He would take no more samples. Martin hurried back to Valkyrie.
Age of Questions, Triangle
There is:
The I.
The pain.
The pain of the body.
The pain of not-being.
The fear.
The pain of fear.
There is:
The not-all.
The not-all separates the all and the I.
There no longer must be:
The umbilical cord.
There no longer will be:
The umbilical cord.
The not-I.
The pain.
The Age of Questions is the Age of Struggle, of Movement, of Time, of Curiosity, of Experience.
December 20, 2046, Valkyrie
“Martin, you should hurry up.” Francesca sounded calm, but there was a vibrato in her voice that scared him.
“What is going on?” he asked.
“Just get on board.”
Never had he tried to dock a suit and get out of it so quickly. He was still wearing his onesie when he hurried forward. At first sight, everything appeared to be normal.
Ice Moon 1 The Enceladus Mission Page 23