9

Icefields

They dug into the steep slope with shovels through the equatorward-facing layers of wind-blown dust. It was one of the first polar layered deposits they had encountered, and places where the wind had eroded off the edges showed pronounced layering.

“If we only knew how old it was,” said Paul as he dug.

“Some day we’ll figure it out,” replied Will. “But we know from the cratering history of this area that the surface is constantly renewed, and the climatological models also suggest this deposit is a million or so year old.”

“It’s young; too young for microorganisms,” agreed Monika. There was a note of frustration in her voice; she hadn’t found anything alive yet on Mars. All the microfossils were at least lower Hesperian in age, some three billion years old.

They dug and dug. And then suddenly Will’s shovel hit something hard; he heard the scraping and clinking sounds through his grip on the handle. He stopped, puzzled, then pushed the clods of consolidated dust out of the way. The tip of his shovel was white.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I just hit something, too,” exclaimed Carmen. The others watched as they continued to dig downward.

Up came a chunk of ice. Looking down into the hole, they could see more white.

“Look at that! Water on Mars, and not just deep underground!” exclaimed Will.

“We’ll have to keep samples; it may have life in it,” said Monika. She pulled out a sample bag and dropped chunks of ice into it.

They resumed digging, and very quickly they uncovered an extensive layer of ice. A powerful whack with a shovel broke clean through it.

“The layer’s about seven centimeters thick,” reported Will, to the geological team on Earth that would be watching them in about twenty minutes. “The ice looks consolidated and old; large crystals, as opposed to frost or snow. It has significant quantities of dust in it, so that it’s more gray-white than white.”

“Here’s a fairly dark crystal,” added Paul, holding a chunk up to the camera on his helmet.

“This has to be a remnant from the last climatic cycle when this pole was cold and the deposits extensive,” said Carmen.

“We’re at what; 64 north?” asked Will. “We’re still 14 or 15 degrees south of the permanent cap.”

“Clearly, the permanent cap is bigger than it appears from orbit,” replied Paul, examining the ice. “Say, it’s five p.m. Let’s take the ice inside so Monika can check for microorganisms. We can have some supper, then we can still come back out to explore if we want; sunset’s about 10 p.m.”

“Good idea; we can clear and photograph this exposure later,” said Will. They all headed for the vehicles, where Shinji was cooking supper and Ethel was running a Prospector on the other side of the planet.

It was an animated supper; the ice was a big surprise and a very pleasant discovery. They had been crossing flat wasteland and extensive, rolling dune deposits for five weeks since Will and Ethel had flown down to join the expedition. The terrain was monotonous; only when a crater interrupted the surface and punched through the subsurface was there something of interest, and even that was largely the same each time. The dunes also made progress slow at times. The ice was exciting, by comparison.

“I’m much in favor of pushing on northward, but I suppose this raises the question of whether we should,” noted Ethel, as they all drank tea in the conestoga.

“One could use the discovery to argue the opposite as well,” noted Carmen. “We have now entered old, eroding, ‘fossil’ layered deposits. We have to explore the currently active ones to understand the old ones.”

“The bigger issues are logistical,” replied Paul. “The solar power unit can’t be kept facing the sun as much and has to deal with dusty air, so it generates half as much power. We’re not pushing rocks out of the way anymore, but we need to use more energy for driving in sand and for heating. The satellites will be unusable once we pass 70 south, which means no communications or global positioning.”

“We’ll still have the ITVs and Deimos, though,” said Will. “We’ll have communications through them about two thirds of the day, and some navigational capacity, unless we get north of 85 or 86 degrees.”

“Before we get that far north, we’ll have to deal with cliffs,” said Paul. “The layered terrain has some pretty steep slopes. I doubt we’ll want to go very far into it.”

“It isn’t clear we’ll have the time, anyway,” added Will. “It’s October 15. In six weeks we have to head back to the Outpost. That’ll get us to the edge of the layered terrain with a week to spare, but not to the pole. So the edge of the layered terrain is the logical destination.”

“I agree,” said Monika. “We need to sample the icefields there for life. We’ll need to clear a landing circle there—it’s the last one scheduled—and that’ll take a few days. Then Roger and Sebastian can fly in to participate in the glorious end of the expedition, and we can drive back home.”

Paul nodded, then Ethel and Shinji. “Good; it’s a consensus. I’ll report it to Sebastian and Houston tonight,” said Will.

The supper gradually broke up as everyone prepared to go to bed. After brushing his teeth, Will checked his messages. In addition to an email from a journalist, thanking him for the lengthy interview—the subtle educational campaign had been going very well, with no one yet noticing the coordination of efforts—he found a videomail from the director of NASA’s Mars Exploration program, Dr. Harold Lassen. He pushed play and saw the man’s tired-looking face appear on the screen of his attaché.

“Good day, Dr. Elliott. We remain deeply impressed by the expedition you are currently leading into the northern polar regions. No one could have imagined that we would get so far so early in our efforts to study the Red Planet. The quantity of data obtained since your landing on the planet three and a half years ago is greater than the predicted amount after a decade of exploration. It is almost impossible to imagine what we’ll obtain in the next three years, which will probably see the exploration of the canyonlands and some of Tharsis.

“But I didn’t call about exploration. There are two quick matters requiring your attention. The first concerns your fascinating interview on the Good Morning show three days ago. It was very well received; ratings were strong and our public information people tell us it made a very favorable impression on the public. But the public information department is also furious that you arranged the interview yourself. That is what they are for, after all. We have noted quite a streak of interviews coming from Mars in the last few weeks and we’ve contacted our fellow agencies about it; none of it has been coordinated. It leaves the impression that Mars may be pressuring governments for more money, and that impression could prove counterproductive.

“The second matter requires careful thought. On the Good Morning Show, you mentioned your desire, and the desire of Ethel, to remain on Mars two more years. The agency has discussed this matter and feels strongly that it is not advisable for you to stay another two years. There are several reasons for this. First, your radiation exposure has passed the recommended limit. Second, four years with limited medical care is risky. We need you back here so we can get a better idea of the long-term impact of the Martian environment on the human body. Third, while we want to encourage four-year tours of duty, at this time we do not want to encourage six-year tours of duty. It raises issues of seniority, residency, and cultural sensitivity; it is difficult to remain in contact with one’s national culture from Mars. Furthermore, the face-to-face relationships that make communication smooth and efficient are stretched badly enough after two years of separation; more than four years is worrisome. So we would request that you and Ethel carefully reconsider your desire to remain. We can arrange the transfer of either of you to the American or European Astronaut Corps, if you want to live and serve together upon your return. There are plenty of vehicles to carry you back to Earth, and plenty of people who will stay at the Outpost; Érico and Carmen remain committed to a four-year tour of duty.

“Thank you again for all you’ve done for the exploration of Mars. Your contributions are of epic significance. We’re sure your contributions will continue in very important ways, even from earth. Goodbye.”

Ethel had come over to listen. She looked at Will; he looked at her. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed.” He thought a moment. “I don’t know whether I should be angry, pensive, or defiant.”

“Indeed. His reasons didn’t make much sense to me. We’re healthy, and they can always study the long-term effects of the Martian environment after six years.”

“Seniority; that was an interesting comment. Columbus 2 was made rather complicated when the three of us who were already here were essentially demoted. I suppose that means they don’t want to make me Commander.”

“Probably. The communication and cultural sensitivity arguments struck me as bizarre. They seem to be reaching.”

“I agree.” Will paused to think. “Tomorrow morning I’ll send them a reply, declining the request.”

“I’d make it polite.”

“Oh, very polite! I’ll be kind and respectful. I’ll even apologize profusely about the interview, to give them something.”

“Good. In the last few years of talking to you, I’ve become convinced that while sometimes firmness is called for, kindness is essential. It’s your Bahá'í principle of consultation.”

“And your Presbyterian grandmother’s sense of Christian courtesy, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sometimes; she may have been a fairly good Christian, but she wasn’t always as kind as she should be! No, I think more kindness is called for than she would usually muster.”

“Okay; I’ll be careful, then.”

“It sounds like we have to be more careful with our media campaign. You better tell Sebastian.”

-------------------------------

The next morning, having calmed down and thought about the situation, Will was ready to respond to Lassen. After breakfast, he stepped into the cab of the conestoga to record a message in private.

“Good sol, Dr. Lassen. Thank you so much for your message yesterday. Ethel and I have spent some time thinking about it, and we much appreciate your speaking to us.

“First, I must apologize to you and to the public information people for the unplanned interview on the Good Morning show. If an opportunity like that arises outside the usual channels, I’ll be sure to talk to public information immediately. As you probably know, the Brazilian and Japanese space agencies have been pretty loose with their astronauts here, and all of us know each other very well. Columbus 2 has clicked quite well as team. This made me improperly lazy, where public relations are concerned. I’m glad to hear the result was good for the agency, though. In the last few months there seems to have been a flurry of human interest in the Mars mission. I hope that has been of benefit and has strengthened the public’s support.

“Second, Ethel and I have thought quite a bit about your recommendation that we return on Columbus 2. We’re glad to report that our radiation exposure, even with a flight back to Earth, is still within the limits reached by some astronauts. Our medical treatment here has been excellent; the new MRI has enabled us to take semiannual body scans, which clearly indicate no precancerous or cancerous conditions developing. Furthermore, the testing that can be done here really allows extensive study of the effects of Martian gravity on the human body. As you know, the results have matched the models that have been developed as a result of zero-gravity and lunar gravity studies; our skeletal strength and cardiovascular function have been impaired less than in either of the other two environments, the decline arrests at a certain level appropriate for the gravitational field here, and strenuous exercise—such as our typical days on this expedition—significantly reverse the decline. We’ve talked to the two physicians here on Mars many times and they are confident that with the equipment we now have here, we are gathering excellent data.

“The seniority issue is more serious. Allow me to assure you that Ethel and I are happy to join and fully participate in any team that is sent to this world. We neither demand, nor even expect, positions of responsibility here. We will serve the team while we serve the goal of exploring this world, in any reasonable capacity.

“I hope that sets your minds at ease about Columbus 3. Have a good sol; er, day. Goodbye.”

He reviewed the tape and decided he had been as polite and courteous as possible, but he had to worry that his prolonged absence was indeed impairing the communication. He hit send and got started with his work.

Soon the three vehicles separated. Will and Ethel took the lead in the conestoga with Will driving and clearing. The ancient layered terrain was more difficult than the rolling, dust-covered plains they had been crossing for the last month; whenever they came to the edge of a layer there was a steep edge to navigate and low cliffs to steer around, with lots of broken debris to push out of the way. The flattish tops of the terraces were largely free of rocks, but they had been eroded by the wind in funny ways, sometimes with teeth-chattering grooves to drive over and smooth, in other places smothered with loose dust that threatened to bog down a vehicle. While Will drove the conestoga and Shinji drove a ranger, Monika and Paul followed in the other ranger, sometimes smoothing the route a bit, but just as often dashing off it to investigate rocks, pits, or small cliffs. They did not leave the cab; detailed close-up observations and photography, coupled with samples picked up using the ranger’s remote-controlled arm, were usually sufficient. A particularly significant site could be revisited later when they drove back to the Outpost. Ethel, meanwhile, operated a Prospector in Isidis Planitia on the Martian equator. While Carmen drove, Paul often did the same between observations.

In midmorning they stopped long enough to rotate drivers and dock the conestoga and ranger together so Will could shift to Shinji’s vehicle. Ethel, Paul, and Will drove; Shinji rested a bit, then began to prepare lunch; Monika drove a Prospector in Amazonis except when her ranger stopped for observations. They were delayed about fifteen minutes by two more terrace edges, but each time they found a safe route to the top. Assisting them was a sunwing, which had flown overhead and photographed the entire area several days earlier. It was two hundred kilometers ahead of them photographing their future route.

The three vehicles stopped for lunch, docked together, and they began to eat. Will saw that two messages had arrived from Earth, so he excused himself and went back into the cab to play them. Ethel came along.

“Good evening, Will,” said Lassen, no doubt referring to the time in Houston. “As you might imagine, we’re rather disappointed by your response. I hope you can reconsider the situation further in the next few days. Meanwhile, congratulations on finding the ice layer; everyone here is thrilled we’ve actually seen Martian water at the surface, or at least near the surface. I understand Paul and Carmen found a nice, fairly intact chondritic meteorite about two hours ago; a sample will be a nice addition to the return flight. Bye.”

“Boy, that was a pretty simple concession,” said Ethel. “I’m surprised.”

“They’re not finished. I suspect you’ll hear from ESA, and maybe the language will be heated up a bit.”

“Could be.”

Will clicked on the icon for the second message. A moment later the face of a man in his late fifties appeared on the screen, one he did not immediately recognize.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Elliott. I’m not sure you’ll recognize me; my name is Robert Clarke, President of the Mars Exploration Society. I was just talking to your boss, Dr. Lassen, yesterday, and he suggested I call you. It is not yet public knowledge, but I will be stepping down as President of the Mars Exploration Society in the next few months, or possibly in a year, depending on how quickly we can line up a successor. The last few years, as you can imagine, have been tough on the MES. Many conceive that our purpose was achieved when Columbus 1 landed on Mars three years ago. Our membership has actually dropped a bit and there is a widespread feeling we have become irrelevant. After all, we set out to send astronauts to Mars ourselves, if necessary, decades ago, and that never happened.

“We think it’s time for the MES to take a new direction: to stress continued exploration and colonization of the Red Planet. It is, after all, the only world in this solar system outside of Earth where human life is reasonably possible, and the only world where terraformation seems like a plausible dream. Unfortunately, my health does not permit me to seize the new direction aggressively. Hence we are searching for a new director, one who can build our ties with the space agencies exploring Mars and with the scientists actively pursuing its study. In the last decade, frankly, we’ve seen an imbalance in our membership and priorities. We have too many dreamers who want to project their personal fantasies onto Mars, whether they are anarchists, communists, or religious utopians. This has alienated both the professionals involved in Mars exploration and the middle class consumers whose taxes pay for the exploration. We need to pursue both serious science and mainstream acceptance.

“We’re hoping you might consider the position of President. Dr. Lassen informs me that you will almost certainly be returning to Earth next year. I can manage to run the MES until you can return. You would be a perfect person for the position; you have widespread name recognition, you have obvious management capabilities, you have extensive experience on Mars, and you could bring a vision to the organization that would be unique, because of your unique experiences. I hope you consider the suggestion very carefully. Please let me know what you think. Goodbye.”

Will sat, staring at the blank screen after Clarke’s face disappeared. “The nerve of Lassen to tell Clarke to call me. I’m tempted to call Lassen and tell him off! And Clarke is an innocent; he has no idea how he’s been used.”

“Don’t blame Clarke; he’s trying to solve a problem.”

“I don’t blame him. The offer is even tempting; if we planned to return to Earth, that is.”

“I can see that it would be. The MES does have a role to play in Mars exploration, too, if it could be reorganized and realigned.”

“It really could be useful.” Will thought. “Say, isn’t Heather Kimball planning to retire from the Astronaut Corps? She applied for a position on Columbus 3 and they turned her down because of her radiation exposure. They don’t even want her flying to the moon any more. She could do a good job.”

Ethel nodded. “You know, she really could be good. She’s highly respected by everyone, her management skills are amply demonstrated, she has a flare for public relations—”

“And I bet she’d be good at fund raising,” added Will. He turned back to the attaché and hit reply. “Good sol, Dr. Clarke. Thank you very much for the fascinating and very attractive offer. I wish I could help, but there’s only so much we can do from here. You see, the rumor that Ethel and I are planning to leave is not true; our current plan is to stay at least two more years. But you may wish to contact Commander Heather Kimball. She is planning to leave the Astronaut Corps at some point soon, we think, and she would be an excellent President of the MES. I think it would be difficult to find someone more qualified. Whenever we do return to Earth, we may offer our services to the MES. Best wishes. Goodbye.”

He hit send; the videomail was on its way. Ethel nodded. “Good. I’ll call Heather later this sol and tell her we mentioned her name to Clarke.”

They headed for their various tasks. Will filled the sink with water to wash the dirty dishes before preparing supper. Ethel started to drive one ranger, while others drove the other ranger and the conestoga or handled other tasks. They also stopped for their afternoon three-hour exploration, which Will was scheduled to skip so that he could prepare supper. It also gave him privacy to answer a confused email from Kimball about a call from Clarke, and to respond to an email from Laura Stillwell, the Columbus 1 commander, who had also been asked to call him and urge him to come back to Earth. He was polite but a bit franker to her. Clearly, the pressure was mounting. He told Ethel about it that night.

“I got a call from the assistant director of ESA, Claude Dubois,” she added. “To his credit, though, he sounded extremely uncomfortable with the message he was relaying. So this is coming from NASA, and ESA may be a reluctant participant.”

“Interesting. I explained the proposal to Kimball, you know, and she sent me another response later this afternoon indicating she was thinking very seriously about the idea. So we may have solved Clarke’s problem!”

“That’s a small victory, I guess. But I’m not sure what we’ll do about this NASA thing.”

“I know.”

Just then, Will’s attaché beeped; it was a local videophone call. He looked at the screen. “Sebastian.” He pushed “connect.” “Good evening, Sebastian.”

“Good evening. Say, what’s this issue about you and Ethel returning to Earth with Columbus 2? I got a very strange message this sol from NASA’s Director of Mars Operations, who almost never asks me to do anything, requesting me to ask you to accept their recommendation that you and Ethel not pursue a third term on Mars. Their reasoning made no sense.”

“I got a call from Lassen last night, our time, asking us to return. He said it was for the sake of our health, for seniority reasons, and to avoid the problems of poor communication that can result over time when people no longer can actually see each other face to face.”

Sebastian scowled. “That’s what they said to me, too. I asked Armando about the radiation and medical research aspects and he was surprised.”

“Sebastian, I received a call from Dubois this sol,” added Ethel, stepping closer to the attaché so he could hear her better and see her. “He was very uncomfortable and asked me to consider returning to Earth as well.”

“This is foolish. If people want to stay here for a while, let them! A replacement costs hundreds of millions to fly here. I hope they don’t think they’re saving money or something.”

“And we’re getting less radiation here than in low Earth orbit,” added Will. “Do they think we want to come home and take a desk job?”

“They probably do,” replied Ethel. “Sebastian, this sol Will got a call from Robert Clarke of the Mars Exploration Society, asking him to consider the position of President of MES.”

“Really. That would sure help MES. Considering NASA’s rocky relationship with MES, I’m surprised they suggested it.”

“It was Lassen; and he is an old friend of Clarke,” replied Will. “Sebastian, maybe you’re the best person to end this foolishness.”

“By putting my foot down?”

“Exactly. I assume, Sebastian, you won’t sedate Ethel and I, tie us up, and throw us onto a shuttle?”

He laughed. “No, we won’t do that. Alright, I’ll call Lassen back and tell him to but out and be thankful he has such hard-working, patient, and self-sacrificing employees. I think they don’t want to give you the Commandership of Columbus 3, Will.”

“I think that may be possible; maybe the pressure is coming from the candidates for Commander or their bureaucratic friends.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of this. You all made forty-seven kilometers this sol?”

“Yes, we did very well. No interesting discoveries, though.”

“That can’t happen every day. Okay, good night.”

------------------------------

They continued northward. The next day they began to suffer problems with the communications and navigational satellites, which were so close to the southern horizon that reception was degraded. The global positioning still worked, but intermittently; they had to reduce the amount of video they were sending and receiving, which meant less television at night. But once they moved a sunwing to a high altitude station a hundred kilometers south of them to serve as a relay, communications improved considerably.

Two days later, global positioning finally stopped altogether. The satellites, which were in an orbit just lower than Phobos, were now below the horizon permanently. The sunwing could still relay video, and they began to use their shortwave radios, which could broadcast at frequencies that reflected off the Martian ionosphere and reached the Outpost. That evening Will received a surprising and cryptic email from Neal Stroger: Will, I’ve been asked to relay a message to you, that Lassen has said to leave you alone.

“But who’s Stroger?” asked Ethel.

“Neal was at Shackleton when we arrived for training, but left a week later. He’s youngish; maybe 30 or 32 now. He would have been late twenties, then. He’s an Air Force officer who joined the Corps, then went to graduate school in lunar geology.”

“Oh yes; impact melts!”

“Exactly. He was poking into every big crater he could get into, studying impact melts on their floors. He must have a Ph.D. by now.”

“But why him?”

Will pointed to the return address. “It was sent from Shackleton. Stroger must be there right now. This email didn’t come to us via Earth; it came straight from the moon.”

“Less likely to be detected by NASA. Sneaky.”

“Yes. That tells me whoever wanted to let me know that NASA has relented, didn’t want NASA to know they told me. Maybe Laura. Maybe a few other folks who are friends in Houston.”

Ethel shook her head. “Cloak and dagger stuff isn’t good, but I guess all organizations have it, sometimes. At least they haven’t bothered us any more.”

“Which suggests this message is real, and not bogus. We don’t know.”

“True.”

They had no more to say about the message, so they went to bed. The next morning they continued northward. The five of them had a standard routine going, by then.

The next day the going got harder; there was very thick dust to roll through and the air was filled with it, so visibility was poor. They were approaching the retreating edge of the seasonal cap, so winds were high. They stopped to set up another recharging station and found that the solar power unit could not produce much power. The powerful winds made sunwing landings impossible as well. On the other hand, the winds made Sunwing cargo drops easier; the Sunwing could almost hover over the surface, flying into the wind, and drop packages gently to them. They regretted not having a portable wind turbine to augment their power.

They headed back south briefly for three hundred kilometers to a spot out of the wind belt to clear their last landing area. It allowed Roger and Sebastian to arrive and Paul and Monika to head back to the Outpost, making a two-hour stop at Castle Rock first to fix a broken piece of equipment there. Armando and Érico flew down the next day and Shinji went home; the two men stopped at Chryse Station to reconnect a solar panel that had been left there and make sure the station was stocked for the return trip.

After receiving a tonne of methane and oxygen from the Outpost via sunwing, the six continued north, and in early November they caught up to the retreating seasonal cap. They all went outside to look at the Martian snow. Snowballs, however, were impossible to make; the snow was too cold. With the wind, it was even difficult to stay outside more than an hour.

Finally, on November 18^th, they approached a glittering cliff of white; the active northern layered terrain, where permanent snow and dust mixed and were present all year on the surface. They stopped to get out and investigate.

“We did it!” exclaimed Roger, picking up an ice chunk that looked like a whitish rock that had broken off a cliff and rolled to its base. “Permanent ice on Mars! You just have to go to 79 degrees north to reach it!”

“We won’t be hauling it to the equator any time soon,” said Sebastian. “Who would have thought we’d get here. Our goal was to reach fifty north by the middle of next year. Here we are, six hundred fifty kilometers from the north pole.”

“But that’s another trip.” Roger looked at the ice cliff. “The rest of the trip is blocked by hundreds of escarpments like this one.”

“At least we have swung around the side of Borealis Chasma,” noted Will.

“We’ll drive east to its mouth, too,” said Sebastian. “The sunwings show a short route up Borealis Chasma is possible. I wish we could get to the pole. But I guess that’ll be the job of another expedition. We’ve got about eight days more to explore up here. Then we have to head back to the Outpost.”

 

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