by Unknown
that friction to break their speed. To counteract the heat, the Hawk was equipped with a ceramic tile shield, which would be jettisoned once they opened their parachutes.
So they coasted, for more than three hours, until the atmospheric drag began to make itself felt, at an altitude of approximately one hundred fifty miles. At that point Gary turned the heat shield in the direction of their fall. Their speed was three miles a second, but was diminishing rapidly. Lauren could feel the pressure of deceleration. Her breathing was labored and it was difficult to raise her arms. On Gary's screens Mars resolved into a landscape: ragged craters, wide-open sandy plains, twisting red valleys that cut like bloody incisions two miles deep. Lauren even caught a glimpse of Olympus Mons, far away but still clearly visible in the morning light, wreathed in ice clouds that condensed out of the upper atmosphere each dawn.
The Hawk began to vibrate. Gary sang to himself. He was a rocket man again. He was where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted. The temperature of their cabin rose sharply. Lauren began to perspire.
Fifteen miles above the ground their deceleration reached its maximum value. Here their descent vector turned parallel to the surface as the Hawk bobbed on the aerodynamic lift provided by the atmosphere. But the equilibrium was only temporary and soon their descent resumed. Not long after, four miles above the ground, their speed was less than that of an ordinary passenger jet. Now Gary discarded the heat shield and opened their parachutes. Lauren suddenly felt as if she were standing on her head in a falling elevator. The Hawk was spinning. It was expected, and slowly the spin began to stop. Gary slid their shock-absorbing legs into position.
'Don't you want auto control?' Colonel Brent asked.
'Of course not,' Gary said.
[3900 feet.]
The parachutes were jettisoned. Simultaneously the Hawk's main engines fired. The roar was deafening. White-lined schematics of the terrain directly below crawled across the dark blue screens above Lauren's head. They were falling slowly, almost hovering. A blitz of sand began to bombard the hull, pushed upwards by the force of their rockets.
'Dust!' Bill shouted.
'Visibility still good!' Gary shouted back.
[500 feet. 300 feet.]
'Fuel?' Bill snapped.
[What, Bill?]
'Put her down, Major!' Bill ordered.
'That's what I'm doing!' Gary said.
[100 feet. 50 feet. 10 feet.]
There was a nerve-racking jolt, then a silence so complete it was unnerving.
[Touchdown.]
'Good job, Major,' Bill said.
'Goddamn,' Gary said to the billions listening on Earth.
After traveling four hundred million miles, they had reached their goal.
FOURTEEN
Terry knew he was wearing a foolish smile, but it felt too good to take off. Kathy from California had on a grin of her own that was far from cool. They were sitting in the corner of a coffee shop not far from Mission Control, toying with glasses of milk and servings of uneaten pie, glancing at the TV in the corner where Colonel William Brent and Professor James Ranoth were walking on Mars. Terry thought he had been ready to see people walking on another planet, but every time he looked at the TV it just blew his mind. Soon Lauren would join them. His own woman. Christ, what a day.
'How can they get around with those bulky suits on?' Kathy asked.
'Lauren says wearing the suit is like being surrounded by an air bubble,' Terry said. 'They look heavier than they are. And don't forget the gravity is only one-third that of Earth's.'
Kathy rubbed her hands together for warmth. It was a cold rainy day in Houston. A draft from a nearby window was taking the steam out of their coffee. 'I can't wait till Gary's out there,' she said.
'That probably won't be for a while, from what we've heard,' Terry reminded her. 'He's fixing a generator.'
'It's not serious, though,' Kathy said quickly, half asking.
Terry shrugged. 'You know how they build spaceships these days. They're full of spare parts. If he can't fix it, they'll toss it out the window and no one will notice the difference.'
Kathy laughed. She reached over and touched his arm. "Thanks again for getting me a badge to go inside the control area. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been able to send Gary a message.'
Terry had no problem with assisting Gary with his love life, as long as Gary didn't start asking what Lauren liked in bed. It was not that he felt jealous of Gary; it was just that he looked like a saltless pretzel when he stood next to Gary. Fortunately, Gary was something of an overgrown boy, and Lauren had reassured him that guys like that were only good for multiple orgasms and nothing else. Terry was pretty sure she had been kidding.
'Have you seen Lorraine today?' he asked. He already knew the story about the crazy sister. He hoped he had a chance to meet with Lorraine personally to gather material for a future book. When Gary had awakened, he had arranged for Kathy to pick up an ID badge at Mission Control so that they could exchange personal tapes. Unfortunately Lorraine had arrived first and claimed the badge. Apparently, when she wanted to, she could talk exactly like Kathy. She had already sneaked into Mission Control and sent a message to Gary, which drove him nuts. It quickly became clear to him that Lorraine couldn't be stopped unless security was alerted to her presence. Yet if that happened, the papers would get hold of the story and tell the whole world about Lorraine. With that in mind, both Gary and Lauren had sent Terry a message explaining the situation and asking for his help. That was how Terry had come to meet Kathy Johnson. It had been a snap for
him to get Kathy another badge. But getting the first one back was turning into a problem.
Kathy moaned. 'No, I haven't seen her. I have no idea where she is.'
'Has Lorraine always been like this?'
'She's been saying crazy things since she learned to talk.' Kathy changed the subject. 'When Gary was in California, he told me that Lauren had raised a younger sister all by herself.'
Terry nodded. 'That's Jenny.'
'How old is she?'
'Nineteen years younger than Lauren. Thirteen.'
'Where is she?' Kathy asked.
'She's staying in Wyoming. I own a cabin there.'
'Does she have family there?'
'No. As far as family is concerned, Lauren and Jenny have only each other. But Jenny's staying with people I've known for years. Which reminds me - I should call Jenny now. Would you excuse me for a moment?'
'Sure. I'll get us more coffee. Our waitress looks glued to the screen.'
Terry stood. 'Yeah. The more you look at that place, the harder it is to look away.'
Terry went to an empty booth at the rear of the crowded shop and sat down before the video phone. A few buttons pushed and Jennifer appeared on the screen. She had a fire going. The TV set was off. She smiled faintly when she saw who it was.
'Terry,' she said. 'I knew it would be you.'
'I've been trying to reach you. What are you up to? Still working on your story?'
Jennifer nodded. 'I'm using the typewriter you got me. It's the best present I've ever received. What have you been doing?'
Terry felt disappointed. 'Don't you know Lauren has landed on Mars? Haven't you had the TV on?'
'I know she's there.'
'Aren't you excited? Aren't you proud of her?'
'I've always been proud of Lauren,' she said softly.
'She's been asking about you.'
'I know. I'll turn on the TV.'
'Good. I wish you were here.'
She shook her head sadly. 'I can't come.'
'Have you been having any nightmares?'
Her eyes strayed to the fire. 'They're gone. But I stay up at night and write my story. I have to finish it. There's a way to go.'
'Is Daniel there?' Terry asked.
'He was here. But I sent him off to do things.'
I sent him off.
'Professor Ranoth was asking for you, too,' Terry said.
'Of course. You knew he was going.'
'He's with Lauren?'
'They're together on the same planet.'
Jennifer seemed to lose interest. 'It doesn't matter. Tell him hello for me. Tell him I'm still wearing the ring.'
Kathy knocked on the booth. She gestured back toward the TV. Terry understood Lauren was about to climb out of the Hawk.
'Jenny,' he said, 'I've got to go. Lauren's about to walk on the surface of Mars. It's on TV if you want to watch, on almost every channel. I'll call you later tonight, OK?'
'Fine,' Jennifer said, her voice forlorn. 'Tell Lauren I love her, and that I think about her all the time.'
'I'll do that,' he said.
FIFTEEN
The Hawk had three levels. The top level was the control room. That was where they had sat during the landing. It was the heart of the lander. Besides containing the propulsion controls, it also housed Friend's brain and their communication system. On the second level were the personal quarters: two small bedrooms attached to a central living area. The second level was also used for storage. The bottom level they called the basement. It contained a kitchen, a bathroom, a laboratory, the airlock and the garage. The garage housed two extraordinary vehicles. One was a lightweight jeep with six-foot-tall wheels that could waltz over boulders. The other was more jet than car, a missile with four seats and a windshield attached. It had earned the nickname Hummingbird. Hummingbird floated and accelerated on an invisible jet cushion, and would be especially valuable when they explored around Olympus Mons, in the mountainous Tharsis region.
For all its three levels, the Hawk was a tight squeeze. Lauren was anxious to get outside and stretch. At present she was in the basement, checking her pressure suit for the third time. Jessica worked an arm's reach away, preparing a soil sample for incubation to see if it contained organic compounds. Gary was in the basement, too, lying under a
massive insulated coil and repairing a generator that had been damaged in the landing. He was fuming to go outside, and was mad at Bill for making him repair the generator first. Lauren stepped on his toes as she climbed into the airlock.
'Watch out for the natives, Doc,' he called.
'Gotcha,' Lauren said. A door rifled shut behind her. Fans sucked the atmosphere away. When she returned inside she would be blasted with scalding steam and rinsed with disinfectant. They were infinitely cautious of an infection. An alien breed of germs, totally foreign to their bodies' defenses, could wipe them out as surely as giant insect monsters. Such an infection could wipe out the entire world if they brought it home with them.
The external door of the airlock finally opened, and Lauren was face to face with Mars. She could have been on a Hollywood set. There were cameras pointed at her, and the rusty landscape and pink sky looked like one giant prop. There were rocks everywhere.
Lauren remembered that billions on Earth were watching. She started down the ladder, praying she didn't look like a klutz, and worrying what her first words should be. Bill had stepped onto Mars and walked around for two minutes before saying a word. Jim had made a remark about opening a real estate office. Lauren paused on the last rung of the ladder, still thinking.
God. Destiny. The stars. The future. Evolution.
Finally she gave up and hopped off the ladder and said the first thing that came to her 'This place is better than Disneyland!'
Gary snickered inside her helmet. Because the Martian atmosphere was extremely thin, normal conversation was impossible. However, scientists had devised acoustical
sensors that could pick up faint sound waves and boost them a hundredfold. With these instruments attached to the outside of their helmets - they were called vocals - they could talk to each other without the aid of radio. They could even hear the wind rising, and rocks falling, and monsters approaching. Lauren opened her vocals now and grabbed the cellophane-wrapped American flag that stood at the foot of the ladder. Bill had put it there and it was a stupid place; they would fry the flag when they fired their rockets at take off. Flag in hand, she bounced towards Jim, enjoying the gentle gravity. Jim had half buried himself in a hole he was digging.
'Are you off line?' Lauren asked.
'Yes,' Jim said.
'Seen any monsters?'
'No.'
'Tired?' she asked.
'A bit.' He killed his pneumatic drill and tried to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Then he laughed. 'Is there no way to get the sweat out of your eyes?'
'There is. Take a break. Doctor's orders. Here, I'll give you a hand.' She pulled him out of the hole without effort. 'Find anything interesting?'
'A couple of humanoid skeletons. The usual.'
'Want to help me replant the flag?' Lauren asked.
'Where?'
Lauren pointed. 'On that rise. The camera is facing that way.'
As they scaled the shallow hill, Lauren noted how hard and brittle the ground was beneath the thin layer of covering dust, as if the surface had been baked in an enormous oven. Jim had a hammer with him, but pounding the flagpole into the ground took them several minutes.
'Stay there,' Jim said. He backed away and raised his camera.
'Should I salute?' Lauren asked.
Jim crouched down. 'Only if you're feeling patriotic'
Lauren gave an exaggerated salute and said, 'I claim this world for all the future generations of mankind.'
The flag toppled the instant Jim snapped the picture. Brushing the red sand from the stars and stripes, Lauren wondered if she had said the wrong thing.
In the corner of the basement that was their kitchen, Jessica helped Lauren fix hot chocolate for the men. Six hours had passed since Lauren's excursion, and the sun was two hours below the horizon. Outside the weather was lousy - seventy below - but that was the trouble with showing up during a million-year ice age. Bill was in the control room reporting to Houston on the progress of their mission. Jim and Gary were just up the ladder, in the living area. Gary was reading The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury and trying to defend himself against Friend's emotionless criticism of the repair job he had done on the generator. Jim was studying soil samples. Now he asked if he could have a cup of coffee instead of hot chocolate.
'But Lauren,' he said, from the level above. 'I've been awake a week. The caffeine won't shock my system. Oreos don't taste good without coffee. Plus I hate hot chocolate.'
'NASA wouldn't have given us the coffee,' Gary added, 'if we weren't supposed to drink it.'
'Jim smuggled it aboard,' Lauren called.
'God wouldn't have given us coffee,' Jim said, 'if it wasn't good for us.'
'What about Oreo cookies?' Lauren asked. 'God didn't give us Oreo cookies. All that junk is just junk. I won't have you getting sick.'
'It satisfies the soul,' Jim said. 'Man does not live by vitamin complexes and protein powders alone. I can't work without my cup of coffee.'
Lauren looked at Jessica, saying, 'All he eats is sweets. I should never have let him bring those cookies aboard the Hawk. We have strict menus that we're supposed to follow.'
'What about the chocolate in the hot chocolate?' Jessica asked. 'Doesn't it have caffeine in it?'
Lauren lowered her voice. 'It's really carob.'
Jessica laughed. 'My grandpapa used to drink twenty cups of coffee every day. He took it scalding hot, with a tablespoon of sugar. He lived to be ninety-seven.'
'A great and wise man, no doubt,' Jim said.
'You are not helping me,' Lauren complained to Jessica.
Jessica leaned over and whispered in her ear. 'Make Jim his coffee. He'll just sneak down here in the middle of the night and drink it, anyway. Then he won't be able to sleep.'
'I heard cookies dilute the effect of caffeine,' Jim said.
Lauren snorted. 'Now we know what killed the Russians. They landed on Mars and ate all their desserts at once in celebration and died of hypoglycemia.' She opened the lid on Jim's ins
tant coffee jar. She'd had it out anyway. She put one - just one - teaspoon into a cup and added boiling water.
'Make it strong,' Jim called.
Lauren put in another teaspoon.
'I want some, too,' Gary said. 'I hate hot chocolate. It gives me pimples.'
Lauren scowled and tossed Gary's hot chocolate down the disposal chute. While she fixed another cup of coffee, Jessica began to sniff the air like a bloodhound.
'My, that smells good,' Jessica said, and sighed. 'When I was a little girl, my mom used to make a fresh pot of coffee
every morning. It would take the chill right out of your bones.'
'Jesus Mars Christ,' Lauren muttered.
Later, they gathered in the living area, each with a cup of strong coffee in hand, including Lauren. She sat next to a porthole, searching the bleak western horizon for signs of Phobos, the larger of Mars's two moons. It was supposed to rise shortly.
Gary had reached over on the couch and poked her in the side with his big toe.
'Don't do that!' she snapped.
He set his book face down on his chest and asked, 'Is it up yet?'
'You should know,' she said.
'What?' Gary asked.
'I haven't seen it,' Lauren said. She turned away from the window and removed the foot Gary had generously dropped in her lap. 'I must be looking in the wrong part of the sky.'
'Watch southwest,' Jim said, bent over a picture of a rock he'd photographed earlier under a microscope. 'Phobos comes up fast.'
'Have you made any discoveries with the samples we collected today, Professor?' Bill asked Jim. Jessica sat beside her husband on the other couch, brushing her hair.
Jim put an Oreo cookie in his mouth and took a sip of his coffee. 'No discoveries,' he said, chewing. 'Just greater confirmation and refinement of the theories we have been forming about Mars since the Viking series. There was water here once. Not too recently, but not that long ago, either. I'd say between one and two million years ago.'