What happened to them? Five major theories have been put forth to explain their disappearance: 1) mechanical failure; 2) natural calamity; 3) alien infection; 4) alien monsters; and 5) insanity.
Of these five theories, the first is thought most likely, but only in the improbable context of the others. The chance of both communication systems on board the landers failing simultaneously is astronomically small. Furthermore, the two craft landed almost a mile apart. If one had exploded during takeoff, the
other would have been spared. For the mechanical theory to hold water, the mother ship would also have had to suffer a major system failure. The theory breaks down under even the most casual scrutiny.
A natural calamity? Mars is now known to have sand-storms, and earthquakes are much more common there than on Earth. It snowed often while the Russians were in communication. The Tharsis region is also volcanic, or at least it has been in the past. However, satellites circling Mars reported no unusual weather during the period in question, and no obvious eruptions. In either case, the orbiting ship should have been unaffected, and Carl Bensk should still have returned home.
Life has never been proven to exist on Mars. Nevertheless, a variety of microscopic organisms could be flourishing in the planet's atmosphere and soil undetected. Our investigation of Mars is still in its infant stages. As is well known, a human being exposed to a virus or a bacteria from an alien environment would have no natural defense. Skeptics of this theory, however, point out that such an infection would have had to strike at lightning speed to prevent the cosmonauts from radioing Earth. Given the harsh Martian environment, advanced forms of life are considered impossible. Plus, of course, none of the Russians saw anything that looked alive. But even if such creatures did exist, they would once again have had to kill at an incredible speed to prevent at least a warning from being sent to Earth. Certainly, no alien's arm could have reached all the way into space and murdered Carl Bensk, not unless the alien was part of an advanced civilization that had mastered the art of invisibility.
It must be clear by now that the fundamental criticism of all these theories centers on Mr Bensk. That is, except for the fifth theory - insanity. The Russians...
Lauren dropped the paper with a start as a loud explosion echoed across the lake. Daniel must have brought bullets, she thought. Terry must have arrived. She jumped to her feet and raced down the sandy beach. She ran fast, as hard as she had on the run out, and was gasping for air by the time she caught sight of Jennifer and her friend.
But Terry hadn't arrived, after all. Daniel was simply target shooting, using the cans of Coke she had bought yesterday. A handsome boy, he was dark complexioned, and had a remarkably well developed physique for a fourteen-year-old. The rifle he had cocked to his shoulder looked as if it could blow the head off a dinosaur.
'I told him you would come if he shot the gun,' Jennifer said with a laugh. 'Lauren, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is my big sister, Lauren. She's going to Mars in a couple of weeks.'
So what else is new, Lauren thought.
Daniel offered his hand. 'I know that. I saw you on TV last week. That's great that you're going to Mars. I'd like to go there myself someday.'
Lauren shook his hand. 'Pleased to meet you, Daniel. You'll get to go. In another twenty years they'll probably have tourist flights to Mars.'
'But Lauren's going to be one of the first there,' Jennifer said.
'The Russians were the first ones,' Daniel said. He added, 'Of course, they didn't come back.'
'No, they didn't,' Lauren agreed.
'That was a lousy way for me to say hello,' Daniel said wisely. 'Sorry.'
'That's all right,' Lauren said.
'It's pretty cold there, isn't it?' Daniel asked.
'Our suits will keep us warm,' Lauren said. 'At least, that's what NASA tells us.'
'I tried on her helmet,' Jennifer broke in.
'What was it like?' Daniel asked, interested.
'It didn't fit. It was like wearing a bowl over your head. It was fun, though.'
'We'll see you on TV when you're there', won't we?' Daniel asked.
'Yes,' Lauren said. 'Except you'll see everything twenty minutes after it happens. Even traveling at the speed of light, our radio signals will take that long to reach Earth. You probably know all that stuff.'
'Yeah,' Daniel said. 'Pretty long ways to travel. Jenny says you'll be gone two years.'
Lauren nodded. Jennifer explained, 'The trip home takes the most time. They have to wait for the Earth to swing back around the sun. Hey, Daniel, did you hear about the computer that runs their ship? His name's Friend. I think that's a neat name.'
'I read about him in the papers,' Daniel said. 'Is it true he really knows how to think?'
Lauren smiled. 'He thinks just fine, as long as he doesn't have to make a decision. He only knows what he has been programmed to know, like a PC in your home. But since that's just about everything mankind has learned in the last five thousand years, he's pretty smart.'
'He talks, doesn't he?' Daniel asked.
'Like you and me,' Lauren said.
'I talked to him over the radio,' Jennifer said.
'What did he say?' Daniel asked.
'I asked if he enjoyed living in a spaceship, and he said, "Yes, Miss Wagner."'
'He called you Miss Wagner?' Daniel asked.
'He's very polite,' Jennifer said. 'But I didn't talk to him that much. I couldn't think of anything, you know, that I wanted to say to a machine.'
Daniel shook his head, impressed. 'All this stuff is so far out.' He inspected Lauren more closely. 'Lauren, how come your hair's all wet? Were you swimming in the lake?'
'Yeah,' she said. 'I swam all the way out.'
'How come your shorts didn't get wet?' Daniel asked.
Lauren shrugged. He was a big boy. 'Because I took them off.'
Jennifer blushed. Daniel nodded. 'I used to go swimming naked all the time,' he said.
'You did?'Jennifer asked, amazed.
Daniel shrugged. 'Sure.' He addressed Lauren. 'I hope you didn't go swimming alone.'
'I was alone, yes.' He had his eyes on her, and Lauren wasn't sure what he was thinking. But he seemed a nice enough kid. 'Why not?'
Daniel spoke gravely. 'A girl my age drowned last week. She went out too far and cramped up. At least that's what my brother thinks happened to her. The water's pretty cold. I had to dig the hole for her.'
Lauren grimaced. 'You what?'
Jennifer looked uncomfortable. She said quickly, 'Daniel sometimes helps out at Olive Grove Cemetery. He usually just does gardening. You know the place, Lauren? You've seen it on the road in.'
'You helped bury her?' Lauren asked, not really wanting to know.
'Yeah,' Daniel said. 'The owner doesn't have much equipment. Sometimes I help him put the coffins in the
hole. You have to be careful. We had a lid pop open on us once. Hell - I'm being gross. I should shut up.'
'I'm a doctor,' Lauren said. 'I'm hard to gross out.'
Daniel stepped to his bike. A canvas bag stuffed with papers straddled the handlebars. 'I got a copy of that Houston paper for you,' he said, pulling it out of the bag and handing it to her.
"That's great,' Lauren said. She pointed to the row of three Coke cans sitting atop a boulder approximately two hundred yards away. The light had begun to fail, and even under perfect conditions, Daniel would have had to be an excellent shot to hit them. But Lauren wouldn't be surprised if he could. He had a cool confidence about him. She could see why Jennifer liked him. 'Were you target shooting?' she asked.
'I was just showing off,' he replied, swinging the stock of the rifle into the soft of his shoulder.
'Jenny tells me you collect weapons,' Lauren said.
Daniel eyed along the rifle's barrel. The rifle wasn't equipped with a telescopic sight. 'It's in my blood, being a savage Indian and all.'
'You're not savage,' Jennifer said.
Daniel winked at her, and
Lauren caught a spark in his eyes which made her smile to herself. The guy liked Jennifer, which should have been no surprise, except Jennifer had few friends at school. Those she did have, she had known for many years. Jennifer was affectionate and warm, and most of the time happy, but unusually guarded for a thirteen-year-old.
'What do you have in your collection?' Lauren asked.
'A Civil War cannon,' Daniel said, dropping to one knee, 'a dozen Chinese knives, an old Spanish sword, and a boomerang. I'll have to show you how to use it some time, Jenny. But my real prize is a crossbow my brother found.
Yeah, he just found it, in the mountains in Switzerland. Shoots as straight as this rifle here.' Daniel paused. 'Plug your ears.'
Lauren and Jennifer did so. Daniel pulled the trigger. The bang was loud, even with their ears covered. A spark flashed on the boulder where the cans sat. Daniel had missed. He took a deep breath, held it, and then fired again. The can on the right exploded. The fizzling foam flowed over the stone. Jennifer cheered briefly, then quickly replaced her fingers to her ears. Daniel fired once more, demolishing the can in the middle.
'Incredible,' Lauren said, impressed. In the deepening twilight, she could hardly see the remaining can, and she had better than twenty-twenty vision.
Jennifer patted Daniel on the back. 'My warrior.'
Daniel was nonchalant. He offered Jennifer his rifle. 'Would you like to give it a shot?'
Jennifer backed up, startled. She shook her head. 'I don't think so.'
Daniel turned to Lauren. 'Want to put the last can out of its misery?'
'Yeah.' Lauren took the gun, feeling an odd pleasure in its weight. This was how wars got started, she knew, with a fascination with powerful toys. She crouched down and tried to steady her aim, using her knee for support. Then Jennifer touched her side. 'What is it?' she asked, not pleased at the interruption.
'Don't use that,' Jennifer said.
'Huh?' Lauren squinted. For a moment, she had lost sight of the can.
'Don't fire the gun,' Jennifer said.
Slightly annoyed, Lauren asked, 'Why not?'
I see you brought the fire.
'What did you say?' Lauren asked Daniel.
'I didn't say anything,' he said.
'I thought you said to fire ... see that I fire. Hmmm. Somebody said something.'
'I didn't say anything,' Daniel repeated.
Lauren turned her attention to Jennifer, who was standing perfectly still, watching her. 'What's your problem?' Lauren asked.
Jennifer was long in answering. 'You shouldn't use that.'
'Why not?' Lauren asked. 'Since when did you become a pacifist for the sake of Coke cans?'
Jennifer cocked her head to the side, as if she were listening with her whole body. Then suddenly she raised an eyebrow. 'Terry's almost here,' she said.
'Are you sure?' Lauren asked. She paused. 'I don't hear a thing.'
'Listen,' Jennifer said.
Lauren did so, and still didn't hear anything. Daniel had eyes like an eagle and Jennifer ears like a bat. Their kids would be superhuman. Daniel finally knelt and pressed his ear to the ground.
'A car is coming,' he said. 'Is it your boyfriend?'
Lauren quickly returned the rifle to Daniel. 'My fiancé,' she said absently. 'He's a reporter.' She looked at Jennifer, who was staring at the sky. For no reason, Lauren felt a sudden chill.
'I know him,' Daniel said. 'Terry Hayes. He and my brother are friends. Mr Hayes used to come here a lot on vacation years ago. I probably met him before you two did.'
Jennifer slowly shook herself, seemingly returning to Earth, and smiled faintly. 'We're like one big family,' she said. 'We all know each other.'
Lauren finally heard Terry's car for herself. 'Oh, Christ,' she said. 'My hair's a mess. I have to put my clothes on.' She jogged toward the cabin. At the porch steps she turned
and called. 'Hide that gun, Daniel. Terry hates the sight of guns.'
'Really?' he said. 'All right, sure.' Daniel dashed to the trees to stash the rifle.
'They remind him of wars,' Jennifer said thoughtfully.
'I wouldn't be surprised if they did,' Lauren muttered, skipping up the steps.
I see you brought the fire.
Why did I think that? Lauren asked herself. She didn't know. She didn't care. She hurried inside. God, she was going to Mars in a couple of weeks.
TWO
Two miles from his cabin, Terry Hayes pulled his car onto the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine. The car was running fine, and he didn't need to take a piss. He had no reason to stop. In fact, he had plenty of reason to keep going. He had been looking forward to seeing Lauren since he had awoken that morning in Houston. But here he was, taking a break from his busy schedule to have an anxiety attack.
Instead of a drink.
Terry knew there was nothing more pathetic than a frustrated novelist who had become a reporter to pay the bills, unless the reporter just happened to be an alcoholic. He was that man all right, but he wasn't feeling too sorry for himself, just a little. First off, he hadn't had a drink in two years, so he really qualified as an ex-alcoholic, if you didn't listen to what the experts said about people like him always being in a perpetual state of recovery. Second, he might be unable to support himself with his books, but at least three had been published, one back in the days when he had had trouble untying his shoes at night, the other two after he met Lauren.
The first novel had been about four people who were actually only two people: an old couple who traveled back in time to when they were teenagers, to prevent themselves from meeting. The couple had not had a happy life together, and blamed each other. A paperback house in New York gave him a ten grand advance on the book after rejecting a half-dozen of his earlier attempts - and printed thirty-five thousand copies. The publisher brought it out without any fanfare, which automatically gave the book the shelf life of the average magazine. Terry saw the novel in the stores for a month, and stopped drinking for the entire time. But then it disappeared, and he never did see any royalties.
His second book went pretty much the same way as his first, even though it was better written. He had Lauren with him at the time of its publication, and when it came out, they went to every bookstore and supermarket and drugstore in Houston to gloat over it. Not that they found it everywhere they visited. It was a mystery novel, about a disturbed woman who committed suicide. But through an elaborate preset scheme, she managed to implicate all her friends in her supposed murder, in the end sending them to jail for a crime that had never happened.
At least the second book got reviewed in a few papers. They called him 'promising.' Lauren loved that word. She had the reviews framed, and made into Christmas cards, and printed up as wallpaper. It was supposed to be a joke, and Terry laughed, for he had just finished another book, and it was hot, even if the publisher who bought it only thought it was worth fifteen grand. It was about a cockroach named Ricky, who lived in a TV set. He was in love with the teenage girl in his house. Ricky was due out in six months, about the time Lauren was supposed to wake from her long trip out. Lauren was on his case to use the publicity surrounding her expedition to promote his story. He thought it would be the act of a shameless fellow, but he
was considering it. He didn't want the book dying like the previous two had.
Lauren loved the character Ricky. She said Terry and the cockroach were soulmates, and it was true. In the book, Ricky spent half his time trying to kick a white sugar habit that gave him hallucinations. Since kicking booze, Terry had turned into something of a sunflower-seed addict. The seeds didn't make him see anything, though. But if he ate a bag of seeds before he went to sleep at night, he had tons of dreams.
Usually they were about getting drunk.
He had met Lauren while on an assignment for his paper. He was supposed to interview the astronauts who were in training for the Mars mission. But he had not wanted the assignment. He knew nothing about science and ha
d no desire to learn. His editor explained that their readers weren't interested in science, either. The paper wanted a human-interest story: what the astronauts did for recreation; what they thought about premarital sex and abortion; if any of them had ever been arrested for indecent exposure - that sort of thing. Terry told his editor he still didn't want the story. He felt it would be an unbearable compromise to his literary ethics. Plus there was a bar he was itching to visit at lunch time, and his meeting with his editor was taking place at eleven-thirty. But then his editor showed him a picture of Lauren Wagner, and said she was one of the astronauts. Terry thought maybe science deserved a closer look.
At NASA's training center, he spoke to a receptionist who was expecting him. Unfortunately, she said, all the crew were busy in simulators, with the exception of the doctor, who was working out in the gym. He was disappointed. Never in his wildest imagination did it occur to him that NASA would entrust the health of the most expensive human undertaking in history to a woman doctor. Terry wasn't a sexist by any means. He simply believed that most men in power were. But he had told his editor he would come back with a story. He followed the receptionist's directions to the gym.
Of course, when he got there, he found the young woman in the photograph. Dr Lauren Wagner was running on a treadmill, with two wires attached to her chest under her blue T-shirt. Her shiny dark brown hair bounced as she ran, and it was not the only thing that bounced. He had heard bras were unnecessary in space, and he supposed if she was going to go there someday, she'd better get ready. He introduced himself as an important reporter and asked if he could interview her. She smiled pleasantly, and said, in a few minutes. He saw no reason why he should leave. He sat down and watched her run, for a good twenty minutes. Occasionally she apologized for not talking. She explained that it would interfere with her breathing, and give false measurements on her cardiovascular fitness. So she bounced along. Terry accepted it as all in a day's work. He had already decided he was going to marry her.
Eventually Lauren finished and asked him to wait a few minutes longer while she took a shower. He was feeling bold. He told her his tape recorder was waterproof. She laughed as she walked away. He called after her that he had plenty of time. Then he sat down and began to worry. He knew if he was going to marry her, he was going to have to ask her out.
The Season of Passage Page 2