“The estimated speed of the meteoroid was twenty-one kilometers a second. It was no larger than four millimeters in diameter. With our current technologies it would have been impossible to detect.”
“But it could have been prevented,” Satomura said.
“Yes,” Tatiana replied. “An exterior shell to absorb the impact could have prevented the accident.”
“The additional weight would have been excessive,” Nelson interjected. It was an issue that had been heatedly debated after the Russian tragedy, and one which he felt would do little good to discuss further. “The odds of a similar incident are remote.”
“One in ten thousand, to be precise,” Satomura said. “It is much more likely that we shall all die of old age.”
Carter watched Tanya and her husband closely. They gave no indication of having been in a fight. In fact, they were holding hands. Carter was not familiar enough with Russian customs to know whether or not hand-holding was appropriate for a married couple in a professional setting, but that made little difference. It was obvious the two were going out of their way to appear happily married—most likely for his benefit. He looked directly at Tatiana until he caught her attention, then looked inquisitively at the joined hands. Her eyes shot him a warning glance. He noticed that her hand tightened slightly around Vladimir’s. Pleased at having obtained a reaction, he turned his attention to the rehydrated eggs on his plate.
“A joint review of the flight plan is scheduled for this morning,” Nelson said, after everyone had finished their breakfasts. The review was primarily for the public, who would be watching it live. “Robbins, are you ready?”
Robbins gave the camera lens one final wipe, then nodded as he brought the viewfinder to his right eye. A light on top of the camera flashed on to indicate the event was being televised.
“The charts, Jean Paul.”
Brunnet typed in a quick command at the keyboard, and a chart marked
OPPOSITION CLASS—OUTBOUND VENUS SWINGBY
appeared on a large screen against the wall. The chart was of the inner solar system, and a pair of dotted lines intersected the elliptical orbits of Venus, Earth, and Mars. The lines represented the trajectories of the American spaceship
Liberty
and the Russian ship
Druzhba
. In the event of an emergency, their flight paths were close enough for one ship to serve as a backup to the other. A box in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen contained dates.
2021 O
PPOSITION
C
LASS
1. Earth departure, October 27, 2021
2. Venus passage, April 9, 2022
3. Mars arrival, October 16, 2022
4. Mars departure, December 17, 2022
5. Earth arrival, August 18, 2023
“Good morning, Colonel Nelson,” said Dr. James D. Cain, his broad smile appearing on the high-definition monitor above their heads. Cain was the assistant administrator for the NASA Office of Planetary Exploration. He wiped some sleep from his eyes and acknowledged the others. Moments later the screen split in two, and Colonel Leonid Schebalin appeared on the other half. He spoke a few brief words in Russian to his crew, and when he was finished, he said in English: “Colonel Nelson, you are first on the agenda.”
“Thank you, Colonel. The purpose of this discussion is to review the mission flight plan. The supply ship initiated trans-Mars injection five days ago. The ship is unmanned and contains scientific experiments, emergency cargo, and the backup lander. Three days from today, the two crews will board their respective crafts. Final preflight preparations and maintenance checks will commence upon their arrival.” He approached the screen and pointed at the blue-green planet everyone knew to be Earth. “Two days later, trans-Mars injection will commence with the ignition of the main engines. The burn will establish a trajectory that will take the ships around the sun and past Venus. Shortly after the first stage has been jettisoned, the ships will extend their habitat and lab modules and begin a point-four-g spin.”
Nelson placed his finger on a red-dotted line at a spot near the sun. “As we pass by the sun, our primary concern will be solar flares. The storm shelter will automatically be inflated with water by the computer when it has determined with eighty-five percent certainty a solar flare will occur. An alarm, similar to
Unity
’s, will sound. Jean Paul.”
A high-pitched siren rang through the air, causing everyone to wince. It continued for five seconds, then mercifully stopped. “My apologies,” said Nelson. “The Russian alarm, I understand, is not quite as loud—partly owing to the fact that your habitat module is adjacent to the shelter.”
“If our alarm fails,” said Satomura, “I am certain we will hear yours.”
“The solar radiation will be one of many concerns,” Colonel Schebalin said, his stern voice bringing a quick end to their laughter.
“Our next encounter will be Venus,” Nelson said, pointing at a rotating gold sphere. The sphere increased in size. “The gravitational field of Venus will accelerate the spaceship in relation to the sun. At Venus, the
Liberty
will release the probe,
Greenhouse
. The probe will land on the planet and deploy a robotic rover. We will control the rover from the
Liberty
as we pass over. This will eliminate the long delay associated with an Earth-based system. The surface will be photographed, and soil samples will be collected and analyzed. We will be looking for clues as to what might have triggered the greenhouse effect on a planet so similar to Earth. Surface temperatures on Venus can reach as high as nine hundred degrees Fahrenheit, mostly because of its thick carbon dioxide atmosphere. We will also be looking for evidence of life.”
“We should not underestimate the importance of this project,” said Satomura. He was disappointed by how little press the
Greenhouse
probe had received. In his mind, they treated it as they would a sideshow at a circus. Endicott signaled his agreement and was about to launch into an explanation of how Earth could very easily meet with the same fate when Nelson, perceiving Endicott’s intent, pressed on with the flight plan.
“The passage from Venus to Mars will take six months,” he said. He touched the red planet, and it increased in size until it filled the entire screen. The room assumed a pink glow.
“The god of war,” said Schebalin to himself, but his voice was picked up and amplified by a sensitive microphone connected to the communications console. He smiled awkwardly.
“Both ships will use the Martian atmosphere to aerobrake. They will strike the atmosphere at thirty-thousand kilometers per hour. The rapid deceleration will produce a force of five-point-five g’s. This is essentially the same maneuver that caused the aerobraking accident seven years ago. We lost three of our best astronauts then. They were good friends of mine. The problem was an unpredicted atmospheric disturbance that shifted the angle of entry. The onboard computer failed to compensate correctly for the change. We have since updated the program and are highly confident the aerobrake will be successful.”
The next chart showed two dotted lines circling the planet Mars.
“Once the maneuver is completed,” Nelson continued, “both ships will assume a twenty-four-hour elliptical orbit with an inclination angle of approximately thirty degrees. After several days in orbit, we will initiate descent operations. My landing crew will consist of Lieutenant Carter, Major Brunnet, and me. Dr. Endicott is to remain aboard the
Liberty
.”
“Our crew,” Schebalin said, “will be Colonel Dmitri Komarov, Major Tatiana Pavlova, and Dr. Takashi Satomura.” Unlike the others, Satomura did not acknowledge his name with a nod or a smile. His expression remained unchanged, oddly impatient.
“The Mars Excursion Modules will separate from the main vehicles and descend to the planet’s surface,” Nelson continued. “We will land at the base of Olympus Mons, approximately two klicks above mean planetary level.” The planet grew several times in size, and Nelson pointed at a spot at the base of a volcano with his pen. “Major Brunnet.”
“Olympus Mons is the largest known volcano in the solar system,” Brunnet said. A large photograph of the volcano appeared on the screen. “It towers twenty-seven kilometers above the surface—three times higher than Mount Everest. The caldera is eighty-one kilometers across. The base of the volcano spans nearly six hundred kilometers. It also contains some of the youngest lava flows on the planet’s surface. The age of these flows is determined by crater density. This site will answer one very important geological question: When did volcanism cease on Mars? Rock samples from this region will be varied in age and chemical composition. They should provide a good cross section of Martian geological history.”
“The decision to land on Olympus Mons was not without controversy,” Nelson said. “The elevation was thought by some to be too great to provide sufficient aerobraking, and the site too rocky for a safe landing. But geologically Olympus Mons holds considerable promise, and a majority of our scientists were determined not to pass it up. They chose a site lower than originally considered and reworked the landing strategy to compensate for the elevation. They also redesigned the landing gear to be able to handle less than perfect conditions.” Nelson scrolled the screen eastward and pointed to a spot inside a large, jagged canyon. “The team led by the Russians will land here. Commander Komarov.”
“Like you,” Komarov said, “we were lured to a spot that holds great potential. Candor Chasma. Six degrees south, seventy-three degrees west. We are to land on a small mesa, one-point-three kilometers high. Candor Chasma belongs to the Valles Marineris canyon system. The system stretches nearly four thousand kilometers in length. To give you a better sense of the size, the Grand Canyon in America is only four hundred and fifty kilometers long. Valles Marineris would stretch the entire length of the United States. It is as much as seven kilometers deep, which is three times deeper than the Grand Canyon. We’ll be using an airship to explore the chasm. A dirigible, I believe you call it. But I will let Dr. Satomura describe the scientific value of this site.”
“This region is interesting for many reasons,” said Takashi Satomura, stepping forward with a laser pen. “The walls of the canyon are layered. We believe the layers are from different periods of Mars’s geological past. They contain the history of Mars. And to some degree our solar system. To give an example, samples taken from the layers could be used to determine the climatic cycles of Mars. If these cycles correspond with those on Earth, such as the great ice ages, we can assume they were due to variations in the sun’s output.”
“Or it could lend further credence to Milankovitch’s theory regarding the influence of planetary rotation upon climate,” Endicott remarked.
“Of course,” Satomura said. “All depends on what we find.” He traced the outer perimeter of the canyon with his laser beam. “There are those who believe that the canyon could have been an ancient lake. We know that life on Earth began in the oceans approximately three and a half billion years ago. We suspect that conditions on Mars at that time were similar to those on Earth, and that Martian life may have lived in the waters that once filled this canyon.”
Carter listened with amusement as the two nations rationalized their respective landing sites. There was another reason, more genuine, yet unspoken. Neither nation wanted to be out-done by the other. As agreed by both beforehand, their ships would touch the ground simultaneously, or as simultaneously as conditions would allow. The Russian and American commanders were going to emerge from their landers, descend their respective ladders, and diplomatically hop onto the Martian soil at precisely the same time. A symbolic gesture of unity. Man, not a Russian, not an American, but man, an Earthling, would land on Mars.
Despite this gesture, politicians soon came to the realization that one landing site could be superior to another. The Russians, who realized it first, announced they would land at Candor Chasma, perhaps the most promising site with respect to geology and the search for life. The Americans, not wanting to be outdone, retorted by announcing they would land at Olympus Mons, the highest and most spectacular mountain in the solar system. The site for the failed
Volnost
mission had been the ancient channels of Mangala Vallis—an equatorial site, relatively safe, but geologically dull in comparison to Olympus Mons or Candor Chasma. The glory had been in being first. The challenge posed by the two sites had the unexpected result of reinvigorating the space program. As Carter smiled inwardly at the thought, a change in Komarov’s tone drew his attention back to the discussion.
“While we are on the planet’s surface, Vladimir will conduct an investigation of the supply ship for the
Volnost
. The ship, which is configured similarly to the supply ship for this mission, with its cargo hold and backup lander, has lost power, and we want to find out why.
“The two landing crews will remain on the surface for two months. Their duties will be many. They will spend much of their time exploring the surrounding terrain and conducting surface experiments. They will depart the planet in the excursion modules. Trans-Earth injection will occur on December 17, 2022. This time,” Komarov said, tracing the dotted line with his finger, “rather than swinging by Venus, we will set a course directly for Earth. We are scheduled to arrive eight months later. The ships will aerobrake into the Earth’s atmosphere, where they will be picked up by orbital-transfer vehicles and tugged back down to low-Earth orbit and the newly constructed Orbital Quarantine Vehicle. The facility will be separate but adjacent to this space station. We are to remain in quarantine for two weeks.”
“And if we are found to be contaminated?” Tanya asked. “Then we stay quarantined until it is determined the contamination does not pose a threat or until it is neutralized. We don’t anticipate any complications.”
T
anya Pavlova watched Colonel Komarov as he checked his console and verbally relayed the settings back to Kaliningrad. His voice was mature and confident. Not like her husband’s, which would on occasion crack as though he had not entirely grown up. She loved her husband, but at times he could be so childish, and his suspicious nature was a constant annoyance. Komarov was different. He was older than Vladimir, more fatherly. His military stature and large body, almost too large to fit in the cockpit of the jets he flew, commanded respect. There were rumors that he had been unfaithful to his wife, but that did not disturb Tatiana. With such a man the problem had to be with the woman. Not that it was any concern of hers.