1

Beginnings

High above the baked and blindingly bright plains of Mercury, a shuttle separated from a mother vehicle and pulled away slowly. The six crew inside had a few minutes to look back at the interplanetary transit vehicle at its center, with a ring of ion thrusters attached to it and immense thin-film solar arrays spreading out above and below it. Then the shuttle fired its engines briefly and headed for the surface.

Twelve hours later the shuttle was skimming above crater rims and rolling plateau at 12,000 kilometers per hour when the main engines came on powerfully, pushing the astronauts deep into their seats. For three minutes the engines blasted out superheated steam and hydrogen at 16,560 kilometers per hour while liquid hydrogen and oxygen pumped into the engine and combusted. When the engines shut down the shuttle was a few hundred meters above the surface and moving at less than a hundred kilometers per hour. The pilot watched the computer carefully as the shuttle descended toward the landing pad that robotic vehicles had laid out on the floor of a small crater called Rahu.

The engines shut down on schedule and the shuttle settled onto the ground with a slight bump. The image was sharp and clear on the wall television in Will and Ethel’s apartment. Marshall applauded.

“They did it!” he said. “What was the chance the shuttle could have crashed, anyway?”

“The Caloris is the same type of shuttle that we just got; the big, Hermes class vehicles,” replied Will. “They supposedly will crash once every 10,000 flights, but no one knows.”

“We’ve never had a crash,” added Ethel. “But the old shuttles have only flown maybe 200 times, and these new ones only a dozen or so times.”

“The view is very good and clear,” said Will, looking closely at the screen. The camera is set really well.”

“It’s operating on what? Two or three times the light of a full moon?” asked Ethel.

Will nodded. “Something like that. Marshall, do you see the ice and snow on the ground around the shuttle? It’s landed in a small crater and the floor’s in permanent shadow.”

“Yes, I see. How thick is the ice, I wonder?”

“Mercury has thick sheets of ice in the bigger craters at the north pole, so it could be a lot.”

“And where is Concord crater, where they’ll set up their outpost?”

“About two kilometers away,” replied Ethel. “It already has an outpost in it, though. The Hermes Zero flight that arrived two years ago brought a hab, a greenhouse, a ranger, four Genie-250s, and lots of equipment, and the genies set up the hab already.”

“Which is a capability way beyond anything we had, seventeen years ago,” added Will. “When Columbus 1 landed here, we had to set up almost everything by hand.”

“No genies,” agreed Marshall, referring to robots able to perform a wide variety of industrial and construction tasks independently or under partial control. He listened to the banter between the crew and mission control in Paris. They were speaking French, but a computer was simultaneously translating it into English and repeating the conversation using simulated voices of the speakers. “Are their habs like ours?” Marshall suddenly asked.

“They’re similar; an evolution from them,” replied Will. “They’re twelve meters in diameter and have three full floors, and the mass is the same even though they have a micrometeoroid shield on top. The two habs they’ll have will comfortably accommodate twelve to sixteen people, so the six of them are set for some time.”

“And how will they run a greenhouse, with the sun up for months, then gone for months?”

“Concord Crater is on a plateau that’s close to the north pole and has sunlight almost all the time,” replied Ethel. “The shuttle’s bringing something they’re calling a ‘picket fence’; it’s like a picket fence, too, a series of silvered vertical slats that they’ll set up around Concord crater, with the slats leaning inward toward the center of the crater. Sunlight will shine between the slats, across the top of the crater, and get reflected off the slats on the other side and into the crater. So the floor of Concord will be constantly illuminated at about terrestrial levels of sunlight. They can put a lot of habs and greenhouses in Concord; it’s a hundred meters across.”

“And since the sun will never shine in directly, the crater floor is protected from solar radiation,” added Will. “It’s simple and clever.”

Marshall nodded. He yawned. “How much longer before they go outside and walk?”

“Give them time to shut off the systems and suit up!” replied Ethel. “It took us an hour on Columbus 1.”

“What was it like, to walk on Mars for the first time?”

“Very exciting,” replied Ethel.

“Strange to think several billion people were watching on television, too,” added Will. “But we were really thrilled. We set up the flags, then started doing geology right away.”

“You should hear grandpa talk about the Apollo 11 landing,” added Ethel. “He was a boy when the first men walked on the moon. He got to stay up very late to watch.”

“Just like me, now!” said Marshall.

They listened to the banter between ground control in Paris and Patrice Domkowski, the French-Polish commander, who had served on Columbus 3 way back in 2025-26. The crew was suiting up and soon the first two would step outside.

“Do you think Mercury will ever have as many people as Mars?” Marshall suddenly asked.

“I wouldn’t rule anything out,” replied Will. “I think it’s unlikely, though, because of the great heat, the lack of atmosphere, the solar radiation, and the large delta-v necessary to get there.”

“I’m still amazed someone has gone there only seventeen years after the first Mars landing,” added Ethel. “It’s a harsh place. But the science is really thrilling; it’s a whole planet almost as complex as Mars, with extensive mineralization, a few active volcanoes, and clues to help us reconstruct the origin and early history of the solar system.”

“I doubt they’ll ever have a real export, though,” said Will.

Ethel looked at him. “There’s helium-3.”

“True, if we can ever figure out how to use it.”

“How much water?” asked Marshall

“Enough to support millions of people if carefully recycled,” replied Will. “I wouldn’t be surprised if, 400 years from now, Mercury doesn’t have a few towns.”

“We won’t live to see that, though,” said Marshall.

Domkowski and the chief geologist entered the airlock. The family listened as the airlock depressurized, then watched the door open from the perspective of a camera up on the crater rim. Patrice paused a moment, then began to amble down the ramp using a skipping walk that Martian explorers knew all too well. He slowly, deliberately placed a foot onto the untrod regolith of Mercury.

“We come as representatives of humanity to open another world to exploration, development, and settlement,” Patrice exclaimed, his words in French being immediately echoed in English.

“A good line,” said Ethel.

“And see, he’s already looking ahead toward settlement,” noted Will. “We would have never dared say that on Columbus 1.”

“It’s a measure of how far things have come,” agreed Ethel.

The chief geologist stepped down next and uttered her first words in Spanish, noting that they had come in peace to a place where everything was named for peace, for every crater and feature was named for ‘peace’ in the welter of human languages. She got to work, picking up icy-cold samples with special tongs and dictating a description of each while the other four crew stepped out, uttered their first words, and began to explore a bit.

Once the last two stepped out, Patrice went back to the airlock and grabbed a flagpole on which was mounted seven flags; that of the European Union on top and those of the six nations represented by the crew below. They drove it into a patch of ground and cheered while Ode to Joy was played. When it was over, Will turned to Marshall. “Okay, astronaut, it’s 1:15 A.M. You can watch the rest via webcast tomorrow.”

“Aw, dad, can’t I stay up a little longer?”

“No,” replied Ethel. “You’ll never get up in the morning as it is. To bed.”

“Oh, alright.” Marshall rose reluctantly, but he also yawned as he headed for his room.

Ethel rose as well. “Are you coming?”

“No, I’ll stay up a bit longer. It’s a historic moment.”

“Okay, but don’t stay up all night, history or not.”

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

When Will had his eye examination two weeks later, he was still a bit bleary-eyed; like everyone else on Mars, he was watching as much of the initial phase of Mercury exploration as was practical and emailing any suggestions that they had. After looking at his eyes, Dr. Mercedes Frick was matter of fact and calm in her diagnosis. “You have cataracts, Will. They’re both pretty small; you probably haven’t noticed a diminishment of your vision yet. You will need surgery in a few years. I recommend that you take care of it before I leave in two years. Arieh’s assisting me with every single operation I do and he’s a fast study, but he won’t have the experience I have.”

Will looked at the floor, then nodded. “Okay. I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yes, cataracts are an operational hazard, as we know. The physicians were pretty sure there was a causal connection with cosmic radiation as early as the 1980s—a lot of Apollo astronauts developed them—but the statistics weren’t reliable then. The link was established in 2022. I’ve already diagnosed cataracts in 22 residents here, especially in the people who have done extensive field work, lunar exploration, or deep space work. The wives who’ve stayed home with the kids have been spared. The kids are alright too, so far.”

“What will the new plan to accommodate kids in conestogas do?”

“Hard to say. I’d keep them in radiation-shielded shelters, not in mobile vehicles, which can never be shielded as much. Generally, I think we need to shield explorers more; as much as possible. There’s no reason why we can’t build more shielding into the pressure suits and conestogas. The human body was not designed for a constant exposure to fifteen to twenty times the usual level of terrestrial background radiation.”

“No, though it looks like we’re compensating pretty well.”

“True.” Frick sighed. “The operation is routine, recovery is fast, the cure is permanent, since your eye will have a plastic lens at that point, and you’ll no longer have to worry about bifocals, since the plastic lens will flex better than the aging natural lens it’s replacing.”

“Yes, I’ve heard it has advantages. It seems like many of our medical procedures actually improve us, now.”

“Yes, or our lifespan. The same is true with the higher cancer rate here; it appears we’re suffering from almost twice the terrestrial level of cancers, but with semiannual body scans and the newer computer analysis of the anomalies being developed on Earth, the death rate will be lower than it was on Earth about twenty years ago. I suspect life expectancy here will be about 85. Of course, no statistically significant population has lived long enough here to test the model!”

“So, do you recommend I wait a year?”

“Wait at least three or four months; I’m booked up until then. I don’t want more than one patient at a time, since we have a small medical staff. But you can wait longer. In another year you’ll notice some vision problems and you will want to resolve the problem.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to Ethel and I’ll email you with a possible date.”

“Thanks. Have a good sol.”

“Well, I’ll try, but this obviously will take some getting used to!”

“Of course. No one wants an eye operation. But you’re 52 years old and you’ve been on Mars seventeen years, and I don’t know how long you were on the moon before that. You don’t live forever, and you’ve been pushing your luck. Just be thankful it’s just a cataract, and be careful about everything else. Ignorance is the biggest killer.”

“I know. Thanks again, Mercedes.” He rose from the chair and headed for the door as fast as he reasonably could. His mortality had intruded, and it bothered him. In fact, he was surprised that it bothered him so much. He believed in an afterlife, but he rarely thought about it; his family was healthy and he was enjoying life too much to worry. He walked from Catalina to Riviera Biome the longest route he could think of so as to reconcile himself to the relatively minor insult his body was suffering from. HHHhhh

He said a few Bahá'í prayers he had memorized on the way.

When he reached his office twenty minutes later he was feeling a bit better; at least he was ready to tackle his work. He was startled to see Dr. Nigel Stanfield waiting for him. He glanced at his watch. “Oh, Dr. Stanfield, I apologize deeply! I was just delayed in getting here and forgot about the appointment!”

“Were you delayed, or forgot?”

“Both. My medical appointment ran over and the diagnosis is cataracts. That drove my daily schedule from my mind.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. It’s a hazard of astronauts and polar scientists alike.”

“Polar scientists, really?”

“The glare. Bright light in general can cause cataracts in some cases. Ionizing cosmic radiation is worse.”

“Yes, as we know. Come on in.” Will opened the door of his office and they stepped inside. Will headed for a table near the door and directed Stanfield there as well. Will set up his attaché. “Welcome to Mars again. I hope your flight on the Hellas was both comfortable and stimulating?”

“It wasn’t bad. We had many fewer leaks than the Solis, but a three-month longer flight in order to pay a visit to 2015AB17. Not much of a rock to look at—400 meters long, 250 meters wide, 200 meters high—but it’s seen a lot of action. We walked every square meter of the surface in a five-week period.”

“And did good science. Your reputation for precise research at the lunar north pole and at Antarctica is pretty remarkable. Rock glaciers in the deeper craters on the moon! People thought you were crazy, but you were right.”

“Of course I was. I’d like to go to Mercury to study the glaciers there; since I’m a British citizen as well, maybe that’ll be possible some day. I’ve been fascinated by what I’ve seen so far. But the Galilean moons are the ultimate challenge for glaciologists. There’s talk of a new subfield of geology, ‘cryogeology’ for studying geological processes in a predominantly ice crust. But right now my sights are on the Martian North Pole, and as soon as possible.”

“Yes. The expedition is scheduled to leave in ten sols, if I recall; April 10. The timing’s good; you’ll have eleven months before the autumnal equinox, at which point you can come back here for a month, then head for the South Pole.”

“Exactly. I really don’t want Dr. Jen Tan along, though.”

Will shrugged. “China has great glaciologists as well, and they’re interested in the Galileans, just like the U.S. My advice is simple: make friends, because you may be racing each other to get to Jupiter and the friendship could save someone’s life.”

“I suppose you are unaware of our prior history.”

“On the contrary, I’ve read your papers contradicting some of his findings, and vice versa. You’re rivals in the field. I’d call the publication battles a draw, right now. No offense meant.”

“That’s alright; everyone’s entitled to their opinions, however mistaken.”

“So there won’t be a problem? Obviously, we can’t mount two polar expeditions, one for the Chinese and one for the Americans. Eventually, when people are wintering over at the poles, there will be two, and maybe we can separate the expeditions.”

“Won’t be a problem. . . I certainly wouldn’t out it that way. I must say, Dr. Elliott, your reputation for being reasonable may be exaggerated. You are a stubborn man.”

“Well, perhaps you’re a bit stubborn as well?”

Stanfield was taken aback by that. “At what point do you think it’ll be practical to winter over at one of the poles?” he said, changing the subject.

“We might be willing to give it a try in two or three years. Rescue capability is nearly zero because of the unpredictable and often high winds, the darkness, and the snow storms. The station would need two nuclear reactors—one for backup—and I’m not sure we could spare them. Our reactors are getting old and we won’t get replacements for a few years.”

“I’ve been thinking about the problems. We can resolve them pretty easily. Methane and oxygen are very storable at polar temperatures and there’re strong winds most of the time, plus half an annum has constant sunlight. We can generate and store solar power during the summer and use it in the winter, supplemented by wind power.”

“Have you figured out how big the tanks need to be? A polar station needs about twenty-five kilograms of methane and oxygen per hour. That’s 600 kilos per sol and about 250 tonnes for a long winter, at least 300 tonnes when redundancy is included. And the tanks will have to be hauled overland from here. That’s not an easy or cheap task.”

“True. But what about silane? We’d be talking about only fifty or sixty tonnes, since we don’t have to store CO2 oxidizer. Silane’s denser than methane and liquid at temperatures just a few degrees below the polar norm.”

“Very true, but silane’s difficult to make. We’re developing silane technology as fast as we can afford the research. A new silane synthesizing unit arrives from Earth next month; it’s more reliable and efficient than the older systems. We’ve been flying sunwings using silane fuel for four years now and the motors have proved themselves. We’ll be trying a silane powered conestoga later this year; if it works well, which it should, we may switch our long distance robotic trucks to silane, because their range will be five times as much.”

“That would eliminate the need for refueling.”

“It would on the route from here to Cassini via Meridiani and Dawes. For crewed vehicles, the water exhaust can be electrolyzed to make oxygen. We won’t be ready to make silane the principal power source at the polar stations for at least three or four years. But the technology’s coming along.”

“I see.” Stanfield sounded disappointed, almost disapproving. “I’m looking forward to the deep drilling project. It should answer a lot of questions about the history of the Martian climate.”

“It’ll give us more data than we can easily analyze. It’s very ambitious, especially if we get below the recent polar deposits to the Noachian sedimentary layers below. I think you’ll like the polar station we’re building. You’re getting two shelters, so you’ll have 120 square meters of interior space, and with two meters of ice and snow on the roof you’ll have no radiation problem. We’re giving you eight wind turbines, and with the winds there, you should have 40 continuous kilowatts of power. It’ll be a chance to test the equipment at polar temperatures, too.”

“The oasis will almost be big enough for wintering over, so I’m grateful. We’ll do really good science, I’m sure.” Nigel rose. “Thank you for your time, Commissioner.”

“Delighted. Good luck.” They shook hands, then Stansfield left. No sooner had he disappeared around the corner than Brian Stark appeared with Lisa Kok. “Oh? Good sol to both of you.”

“Thanks; can we talk right now?” asked Brian.

“Sure, sit down.” Will gestured to two of the seats at his table; he had barely begun to stand when he saw them.

“Lisa was telling me about the plans for the B-160 low pressure biome. It struck me that one would make an excellent containment around our nuclear facilities, would give us space for expansion, and would define an inner security zone.”

Will nodded. “Clever. Would you inflate it?”

“Just to standard agricultural levels. We wouldn’t use the interior, for security reasons.”

“Though Brian says we might be able to use the interior for some biological experiments that require very limited intervention,” added Lisa.

“Until there’s radioactive contamination,” noted Brian.

“It sounds like a good plan. But I don’t know when can we get you a B-160.”

Brian looked at Lisa, who spoke up. “Will, you’ll have to talk to Alexandra about the B-160s. The caravel is consuming all our construction and fabrication resources. The schedule for the Cochabamba and Columbia Biomes slipped by two months and the next round of biomes for Columbus 10 and bioarchive have already been stretched out. I’m constantly being forced to do more with less space. Expanding our manufacturing capacity obviously is important, but we have to expand our environment as well.”

“That’s true, and I’ve already talked to her about this several times. I guess I’ll have to be more forceful, to the extent that caravel construction slips. How are the bioarchive people feeling in Washington?”

“They’re finally beginning to believe me when I say we plan to create certain ecologies at certain times, so I’d like to preserve our credibility!”

“So would I, especially since the bioarchive people talk to the Project Odyssey people.”

“Project Odyssey has a bigger credibility problem than you, though,” noted Brian. “And the midterm elections are not looking promising; the Democrats will probably win big and postpone it.”

“At least they can’t cancel it; it’s got too much momentum, and the race with the Chinese seems to have started,” said Will. “How’s your site selection process?”

“I think we’ll have a final decision next week,” replied Brian. “My team has inspected all the sites. They didn’t reveal anything unexpected. Yestersol we decided to reject site 26—that’s the one on top of the escarpment in the big crater—as too far away and unnecessarily difficult to reach. The same criterion eliminated site 64—Tower Mesa—which takes 45 minutes to reach. There’s simply no reason to be more than twenty minutes away.”

“So that leaves Hanford Flats and right here?”

Brian nodded. “I don’t think we’ll favor a facility that’s physically attached to Aurorae Outpost, Will. There are security issues to consider, contamination issues, and encroachment by future outpost growth. Aurorae’s growing northward and westward. We can’t put the facility south of Aurorae because that’s too close to the spaceport. Due east of the outpost is the only possibility, but any radioactive leakage could be blown over the outpost if we’re too close. Hanford Flats is fifteen kilometers northeast; it’s way away from the development and downwind, but close enough to reach it easily.”

“And the flats are a security plus,” added Lisa. “There’s nothing even a meter high on that plain. Nothing could approach the facility undetected.”

Will sighed. “I wish it were more practical to have your facility attached to the outpost; it would not feel like a distant, alien presence that way. But Hanford Flats will work, I suppose. How much property has to be bought up?”

“About one hundred square kilometers. But even though it’s some of the most expensive land on Mars, it’ll cost us only about a million dollars. The owners will make a nice profit and that will encourage others to buy land here.”

“I’m glad you see the advantage of buying land back at a markup. Many do not understand the idea. The Aurorae Council will have to pass an eminent domain resolution, though, and that will require hearings. So it’ll take a few months.”

“It’ll be a few months before we have any uranium. And the B-160?”

Will shook his head. “Six to nine months is the best we could manage, I’m sure.”

Brian scowled; he wanted it sooner. But he didn’t push. “I suppose that’s realistic. Any idea when we can launch the uranium mining expedition?”

“Next month. They’ve already started some mining north of Cassini in the copper-uranium deposits there. We’ve already started sending down the pieces to build an oasis for the team. The preliminary analysis shows some very high uranium concentrations. We shouldn’t have trouble extracting a few hundred tonnes of yellowcake over three or four years.”

“Good. If this process works well, Will, I don’t know why Mars can’t export concentrated uranium to Earth.”

“We’ll have to convince the environmentalists that an accident during atmospheric entry won’t spread the uranium around! I think that’ll be hard, Brian. If you persuade people to let uranium be brought down, you’ve also persuaded them to let it be launched!”

Brian shrugged. “We’ll see. I’m hopeful.”

“Ever the optimist,” replied Will.

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

Within a few weeks of the arrival of the Hellas, everyone settled into a routine, and that included eating arrangements on the Patio. Most people established a habit of eating at the same table, with the same friends, every sol. One table had Father Gregory Harris, his wife Anna Racan, their two year old son John, their one-month old baby Esther, their close friend John Hunter, his wife Vanessa Smith, their two and half year old son Maaka, Helmut Langlais, and Clara Forsyth Langlais. Brian Stark had begun to join them as well. One evening in mid April Clara and Helmut came to the table beaming.

“I think if the lights went out right now, you’d glow in the dark, Clara,” said Greg.

She smiled and didn’t say anything. “How was your sol?” asked Helmut, changing the subject.

“Pretty good,” replied Greg. “There were no major pastoral emergencies, and I no longer have to worry about tailoring torn clothes. After nine years, I’ve finally been replaced by a pretty capable machine.”

“Really?” said Brian, surprised.

Greg nodded. “It does a very good job. You have to mark the spots needing repair with a special pen and it quizzes you about the repair, then does it!”

“Why did that come on the Hellas, and not on the cargo flights?”

He shrugged. “Who knows. It fit the mass allocation best this way, I guess.”

“We got our expedition assignment this morning,” announced Helmut. “We’re going to Cassini with the uranium miners to help set up their oasis, then the construction team is riding to the north pole to help complete the oasis up there; we’ll be bringing the wind turbines.”

“That’s exciting; congratulations,” said John. “I’m going to Deimos in June for three months; we’re re-deploying the seismic network to make it much more sensitive. The idea is to convert the moon into a meteoroid sensor; we hope to be able detect impacts as small as a large sand grain, 2 millimeters in diameter. It’ll refine the meteoroid flux rate.”

“That’s good research,” added Anna. She looked at Clara. “I can see you’re quite excited.”

“Oh, not for that,” replied Clara. She smiled again. “I stopped by the hospital this afternoon. Helmut and I are expecting a baby.”

Everyone smiled at once. Anna reached over and embraced Clara immediately. “Hey, congratulations!” said Greg. “What marvelous, happy news.”

“Thank you; we’re very happy,” said Helmut.

“You didn’t wait very long,” noted John.

“No; we were living together a year and a half, after all,” said Helmut.

“We got married in November because it was opposition and the time delay with Earth was shortest,” added Clara. “It made the televised wedding much easier. We want to get the family started, so we’re still relatively young when the kids are grown up.”

“So we can go to Jupiter or Saturn,” added Helmut. “I can’t go anywhere now anyway; I have to finish my doctorate first. I talked to Stanfield the other sol and he agreed to be my advisor. I want a topic involving the Martian poles.”

“An analogy with Callisto and Titan,” noted John.

“Or not; the thesis might be a contrast instead,” replied Helmut. “There are craters to study, and they’re smoothing out because of ice flow, but Mars is so much warmer than the outer moons that the flow occurs hundreds of times faster.”

“Now, you’re not still planning to go, are you?” Anna asked Clara.

The latter nodded. “The conestogas have been radiation shielded so that they’re rated for habitation by children. I’m the one who pushed for that. I’ll probably come back here for the last two months of my pregnancy, but once the baby’s born I plan to rejoin the expedition.”

Anna stared at her. “You know, Clara, as a friend, I have to tell you that I think you’re crazy.”

“Well, crazy or not, that’s what I plan to do.” She patted her belly. “I look pregnant now, even though I’m only two months along, because of this thick polyethylene radiation shield I’m wearing. I’ll just have to get used to it; it’s really not so bad. In Martian gravity one can wear twenty kilograms of shielding and if anything, the mass is good for your muscles and bones. A lot of women have been wearing radiation shielding almost permanently, now that the new styles have come out.”

“They look pretty good and they’re comfortable, though they can make you sweat,” agreed Vanessa. “More power to you, Clara. We’re taking Maaka out this fall, and that would never have been possible without you.”

“Thanks.”

“I just hope they can shield the caravels enough,” added Helmut. “Because unless children can go to the outer planets, there will never be a substantial human population there. It’ll be half a century before humans can get to Jupiter in less than a year; Saturn’s two years, Uranus three or four, Neptune’s even more. The expeditions will last ten or even fifteen years. The ships will have to be self sufficient and child-rated. So who knows, maybe our son or daughter will accompany us to Callisto or Titan some sol.”

“That’s a tall order, but it should be possible,” replied Anna. “It’s so hard to know how to balance family and career here.”

“Well, it’s worse on Earth,” replied Greg. “We can be thankful we have what we have here. But let’s not discuss this any longer.” He raised his glass of water. “To Helmut, Clara, and their future child; may they explore the solar system together.”

“Here, here,” agreed the others, clinking their glasses together.

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