Trapped on Venus

by Carl Conrad

  “We’re ready, Stimson,” Scott informed the scientist.

  “Roger, Probe. And, good luck.” Stimson crossed his fingers and waited.

  “Pressure equalized, Marty?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Ladder down?”

  “Check.”

  “Let’s go, then. John?” he said, placing his hands on the exit hatch. “We’re going out.”

  “Roger, Probe,” an anxious John Stimson answered.

  Scott, nearest the exit hatch, twisted the circular locking device with both hands. The wheel turned once around before the heavy door cracked from its seal. A brilliant curtain of light flooded into the cabin, instantly sizzling several food containers hovering inside the craft and a water vile secured to Scott’s control panel. The scorching light was thick, almost knife-like as it pierced the crack of the door, rushing into the cabin with light-speed swiftness. Scott continued to push open the hatch, though, until a small tear in his console chair burst into flame. The fibers of the chair burned instantly, catching Fisk’s attention.

  “Close the hatch, Scott!” Marty yelled.

  But even before he yelled, Scott had jerked the door closed. He twisted the wheel quickly while Fisk covered the flames with his thickly-gloved hand.

  “There must be an oxygen leak somewhere,” Marty added quickly. “Check the spare tanks, Scott.”

  Scott twisted inside the small capsule, looking behind him to check the readings on the converter tanks.

  “Nothing here, Marty. All tanks show full. Did you check the cabin readings?”

  “Negative, Scott. According to our equipment, there’s no oxygen present – inside or out.” He paused a moment, thinking about what had happened. No leaks, no oxygen, yet there was a fire.... “Could it be,” he mused, “that there’s some other gas present – outside, maybe – that will support combustion?”

  Scott listened curiously. He was the chemist/engineer on this flight. Was it possible? “I don’t know, Marty. I really don’t know....”

  He sank back in the arms of his chair, burdened by the confusion already upon them. They weren’t even on the surface yet, and already they had complications.

  “I can’t say what to expect. There’s so much we don’t know about it outside, so much we have to learn, that almost anything is possible. We know the atmosphere is mostly carbon dioxide with small amounts of nitrogen, a little argon and neon, but the rest is a complete mystery. That’s why my tests are so important. And, we won’t know any more until I can run an analysis... Stimson, are you listening?” Scott asked the scientist at Earth Control One.

  “Affirmative, Scott. We heard the entire sequence. There’s nothing we can add from here. Our readings all show negative. If there’s oxygen present, we don’t know where it’s coming from. But, you have to get moving, Scott. If you wait much longer, it may cut the mission short.”

  “I know,” Scott replied – but he was left without an answer. “We expected the reaction from the containers, we knew the heat would be too much for them, but the fire’s got me beat. How could we anticipate a combustion factor in an atmosphere without oxygen?”

  Grayson, still orbiting overhead, broke into the communication.

  “Jennings? This is Grayson. What color was the flame? Could you tell?”

  “Negative, Tom. It’d be impossible to make out the true color with these visors on. It just looked like a flame. But, if I had to make a guess, I’d say it was maroon, kind of a dark red. Why? Does that help any?”

  “Negative. I thought maybe the color of the flame might give us a clue. But, if you can’t be certain of the color, it won’t tell us much.”

  Scott wasn’t giving up yet, though. He leaned forward, reaching inside the compartment beneath his chair for the spare liner each astronaut had and pulled it out.

  “Marty,” he said, unfolding the liner, “the only thing we can do is try to block out as much sunlight as possible with our liners. That way, when we open the hatch, the whole ship won’t go up in flames! Here, give me a hand. If we can stretch it out enough, maybe we can make a screen of it. It won’t have to cover up everything, just the stuff that might give us trouble.”

  Marty helped Scott stretch the liner across the cabin, then reached beneath the chair for his own. The two, when used together, covered nearly everything in the cabin, jutting awkwardly here and there, but offering enough protection to shield the consoles and chairs from the Sun.

  “There.... That should do it,” Scott said with a note of finality. He slid around the liner and tugged it back in place as Marty squeezed in behind him. The stiff, but lightweight material looked almost like a wall of heavy tinfoil pinioned as it was from cushion to console, the shiny outer surface wrinkled and sagging across the area, conforming to the contours of the objects it covered, yet reassured the astronauts that another fire would not break out and possibly damage the wiring. They looked back at the completed sunscreen with moderate approval.

  “Ready to try again?” Scott asked.

  “Roger. Ready when you are,” Marty answered. “But, take it easy when you open the hatch. I want to have time to react in case this doesn’t work.”

  “It will, Marty. It will. Have confidence.... Stimson? We’re ready. We’re going to give it another try.”

  “Roger.... We read you, Scott. Be careful. There’s no telling what else might happen. It’s more important to get you back alive than to lose you in some foolhardy stunt. Don’t take any chances. If it’s not going to work, don’t push it. Maybe we can come up with another idea back here.”

  “Thanks for the warning, John, but you can be sure we....”

  “Scott?” The voice was a woman’s. Barbara Jennings, Scott’s wife, had crossed the room to Stimson’s control panel and stood bravely at the desk, trying to conceal her fear. Her eyes were tear-stained, reddened, as she understood the risk of the venture they were about to embark upon. Their very lives were at stake.

  “Scott, I know how much this means to you – to all of you – but, darling....” Her voice cracked a little from the strain, her throat constricted. She was near tears thinking about him so many millions of miles away on a planet shrouded in mystery; strange, unpredictable, perhaps the place where he would die trying to find answers to questions which were still barely understood. But, she loved him, she cared about him, and wanted him here, where it was safe, where they could live the rest of their lives together; but now was not the time to tell him all that. She knew that he was troubled enough. The tone of his voice, the slight hesitation between words, the subtle humor inserted into his sentences meant to disguise his fear – she understood what he was going through, how he felt. She braced herself. “...Darling, remember that we believe in you, that we love you. And, be careful, Scott. You’re all we have....”

  Scott paused as he listened, his hands still on the wheel of the hatch. Just hearing her voice had a sobering effect on him, somehow giving more meaning to the mission and a greater reason for caution. He looked at the hatch door blankly, remembering, then continued.

  “I’ll be careful, Barbara, believe me I will....”

  Chapter 3 – Exiting the Ship

  Scott turned the wheel until the latch clicked and the door again separated from the hull. He slowly pushed it open, letting first a sliver, then a wedge, then a flood of light pour into the cabin. It seared through the passageway in an unrestrained torrent, feeling as if an oven door had been opened; a very hot oven! Scott was the first to feel the heat spray over his suit.

  “Whew!” he breathed, astonished by the tremendous force of the sunlight. “It sure wouldn’t take long to get a tan out there!...”

  There was no laughter in response to Scott’s remark. Stimson, Grayson, Barbara, and hundreds of millions of others listening to this moment in history were still holding their breath in silent prayer. They waited.

  Scott stood up through the hatch, peering through his thick, green tinted visor at the landscape below. The ladde
r stretched beneath him to the surface, its disk-like legs seeming to float in the crusty powder like buoys on a lifeless sea.

  It was a tense moment for Scott, a moment filled with both apprehension and excitement. As he looked down the twenty-three and a half feet to the surface, it looked even farther than it ever had before. Perhaps it was the increasing tempo of his heartbeat or the dryness of his mouth which made the moment so emotional. Or, maybe it was the realization that, as he descended the ladder to the surface and stepped onto the crust, he would become the first human ever to do so. But, it was an inspiring vision, a thrill which he hoped he could one day communicate to others – man’s first step onto a completely alien environment, a place barren of sound and movement. And, though he would be taking the steps, he knew that each heartbeat, each breath, each tremor of his lips was shared by all of humanity. It was a MAN who was now about to set foot on Venus. He turned to descend the ladder – slowly, hand-over-hand.

  His pudgy form looked almost like a walking refrigerator from a distance, wobbling slightly with each step as he felt the heavy pressure of the planet’s gravity. Yet, without the liquid nitrogen cooling unit, the specialized coils and heat transfer units strapped to his back, he would have suffocated in seconds under the scorching Sun.

  Slowly he continued down the ladder, stealthily shifting his weight from one foot to the next to keep his balance, until he paused at the last rung, looking up to see Marty’s bulky frame poised in the doorway of the craft. Marty was waiting, not for safety reasons, but to allow Scott the honor of this one, first moment on the planet’s surface alone. Scott understood the gesture, and reached down with his right foot to place his boot on the virgin soil.

  He tested it for firmness before transferring his weight to it, and it held. The scaly clay was firm, yet rustled beneath his boot. He stepped down with the other foot, and held his breath. Marty and millions of others listened, waited, hushed to silence as his weight shifted entirely to the surface. He was now standing on the planet Venus!

  Scott slowly released his hands from the ladder then turned to look back in the direction of Earth. He was filled with emotion as he looked over the landscape, noting its soft knolls and gentle ridges, and the words he then spoke resounded with the awe of his vision. They were the first words ever uttered from the planet’s surface.

  “Without sword I come to this noble place; staring with awe at that which is so magnanimous, so rich in beauty and spirit so free from pain and bitterness.

  “Yet, I come not as conqueror but as discoverer and friend. And, always the skies shall be my goal; their beauty my measure, their freedom my quest, for, now, I am a traveler of the stars.”

  Many months earlier, these words from Davis Trevor’s famous poem, “The Voyager”, had been selected as the first to be spoken from the planet’s surface. It was a tribute to a man who had not only seen beauty on Earth and in the Heavens, but who had brought beauty to millions, as well, before his death. It seemed almost as if he had written them for this purpose, for this moment, with this vision in mind.

  The words echoed through television sets, radios, and over newspaper presses around the world. Even a live stream from the internet kept millions informed of their progress. Scott was but one man, an American at that, but through the concern of all races, creeds, and nationalities – the unshakable concern of all people for the safety of a fellow human being willing to risk his life, his future, perhaps his very existence for the advancement of science – he represented the first infant steps of all men who seek to reach beyond the boundaries of their world. The moon had been the touchstone, then Mars which had only been visited by unmanned landings, but Venus was now a giant stride forward toward manned interplanetary travel. Man was now a creature of the skies as well as of the Earth.

  Marty looked out over the Venusian terrain from the hatch of the ship, lingering momentarily before beginning his descent. His steps were carefully chosen, slow and meticulous, yet as he approached the last few rungs, Scott cautioned him further.

  “Watch that last step, Marty. There’s some of this powder on it, and it’s a little slippery.”

  Fisk stepped carefully over the rung and onto the planet’s surface. He shuffled to where Scott was standing, and the two of them looked out over the barren landscape ahead. They were astounded by its bleak, hostile, and lifeless features.

  “Sure doesn’t look like much, does it?” Scott said, panning the area in front of him. They both swiveled to their sides in a slow, encumbered rotation, then turned to one another. It was a desolate feeling, knowing that they were the only living things for millions of miles, and they shared the seclusion of the moment in a breathless undertone. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, only the steady hiss of oxygen into their suits filled the vacancy of solitude.

  “Well, if this is home for the next couple of weeks, I guess we’d better get organized,” Marty remarked in a breathy, humid tone. “Let’s get the equipment set up, Scott. I’ve got to run some tests on this stuff – it’s really got me baffled. I can’t tell if it’s some kind of rock, clay, or what it is. See how it bends when we walk through it?” He pointed down at Scott’s feet moving through the powdery substance. “It bends, but it really isn’t soft. It... it’s almost like a reaction to our weight, or the friction of our boots. But, I can’t be sure until I run some tests. Still... it seems almost like... well, like copper... the way copper reacts when you heat it. It sort of bends, or curls.”

  “What was that, Marty?” Stimson asked from Earth Control One. “Did you say it was like copper?”

  “No, not exactly copper. It’s just that... well, I’m trying to describe it and it does seem to have some of the characteristics. Then again, maybe that’s just the heat influence. I can’t say for sure. I’ll be able to tell you more after I’ve done some tests. That’s why I want to get started.”

  “Roger,” Stimson answered. “Keep us posted.”

  Together, Scott and Fisk dragged the instrument package from the ship. They unfolded the silver liner protecting it as they would a picnic blanket, then removed the experiments one at a time. Scott moved the first one a short distance away, and activated it.

  “The gravitometer is in place, Earth One. Are you getting a signal?”

  “Affirmative, Scott. It’s working perfectly.”

  He then dragged out two other experimental packages meant to measure the planet’s composition, radioactivity, atmospheric pressure, temperature changes, rotational fluctuations and other properties, activating them as well. They functioned perfectly.

  A little over half an hour had elapsed by this time, and with both Scott and Fisk well-rehearsed in the procedures, wasting a minimum of time and energy in setting up the experiments, they were now able to begin their individual studies. There was no specific objective for this, their first excursion. They were merely to gather as much information as possible, familiarizing themselves with the terrain, recording data, gathering samples, making tests, investigating anything which seemed of interest in determining the nature of the planet. They were eager to begin.

  Marty was already busy taking surface samples for his tests when Scott replaced the liner in the ship’s storage compartment. He carried a small drill with him which he twisted into the surface with several quick, thrusting turns, finding the Venusian crust firm, yet not entirely solid. It seemed to have body, but offered little resistance. The drill bit slicked through the powder with little effort and made his work much easier than he expected. In fact, it was almost too easy.

  As the drill plunged the shallow six to ten inches into the soil, a tiny housing in the shaft retained a sample of the substance for analysis. Marty twisted the rod as it reached the proper depth, then extracted the sample and placed it into a canister where it could mix with other chemicals and give him a reading. He was surprised that he got an almost immediate reaction. The powdery substance sloshed like mercury in the container and he held it up, overjoyed at the success.

 
“Scott!” he exclaimed. “Scott, I got a reaction already!”

  Scott had returned to one of the experiments only a few hundred feet away, but stopped to awkwardly turn in Marty’s direction. The bulky suit and soft, almost mushy topsoil made it a cumbersome movement, but habit forced him to want to see as well as hear Marty’s good news.

  “A reaction?” he asked, somewhat startled by Marty’s excitement. “What kind of tests are you running?”

  “The Aqua Rigia series. The stuff seemed to dissolve almost immediately. It... it’s reading out at...” He held the container closer to his helmet to make out the small digits on the face of the scale. “It’s reading out at just between 8.0 and 5.6 on the analyzer. I’d say it... it’s some kind of unstable, water soluble substance. It’s even showing traces of smectites and zeolites.”

  “Are you sure, Marty? Check the scale again.”

  Marty checked. “Yes, I’m sure. The reading’s still holding.”

  “Then... that would mean that the surface isn’t solid at all, but...” He hesitated a moment, awed by the significance of the discovery. “...but, a liquid!”

  It was a remarkable scientific find, yet came as a shock to both astronauts. How could the very substance they were standing on, which supported their space craft and the experimental packages, be a liquid? A hard liquid, Scott thought? Or, maybe a crystallized substance like ice, hardened by extreme heat rather than cold? It was incredible! This one, small piece of data would now revolutionize everything that had ever been thought or written about Venus. But, what did it mean?

  “Fisk... We copy your reading,” Stimson interrupted from Earth Control One. There was a note of skepticism, of disbelief in his voice. “But, are you certain the analyzer is working properly? We have no data to confirm.”