29. Commander Jason Montague to Director Eugene Trinny
I need to make it as clear as I can that I will not be leaving Noema on Mars and impacting the alien ship against Ganymed. I have already told Noema of the plans to do so and of my refusal to fulfil them. The chances of her surviving long enough in the Hab for a rescue mission to reach her are dubious to say the least and in any case she has no intention of acquiescing to such a course of action now that she knows of it.
This being the case Cloe must be made aware that sacrificing her chance of survival is a futile gesture that will change nothing. Noema is willing to admit her to the alien ship and it is still possible she may admit others. But whether or not Cloe or anyone else seeks refuge on the vessel our decision regarding Ganymed is unchanged.
I showed the draft to Noema. She read it in silence then raised her hand slightly, signifying acceptance. I hit Send.
“You think she read it?” Noema asked.
“Sure to,” I replied. “It’s the first communication she’s had from us since Deimos. She knows it’s for her.”
Noema did not reply.
“She’ll pass it on,” I continued. “If Trinny has any decency he’ll tell her to come. And I think he will tell her.”
“Good,” said Noema. She wandered over to the table and sat down, then leaned back, her eyes gazing through the porthole.
An hour passed, then another, and still there was no reply. I prepared food at the kitchenette, checked the screen for any messages, lay down, walked back and forth in the tiny passageway between the bunks, sat again, whilst Noema remained unmoving in her seat, her regard ever on the brown surface of Mars. We spoke little, waiting for the words that would free us; hoping, hoping.
At ten o’clock the comm link pinged. I strode over to the monitor. It was a text message.
Jason, I reversed the computer’s remote control override and let Trinny decide what to do. They have taken the Terra Nova into a higher orbit and locked me out of the computer so I cannot come back to Deimos. I’m sorry but it was too much for me. It’s not my decision who lives or dies. I would have been unhappy in the worm anyway. I would have felt guilty for doing what Dieter did and I let him die for it. It isn’t the same as Dieter but it feels the same, and I would have been one too many. I’m at peace now. Go back to the worm with Noema and be happy with her. You deserve it more than anyone. They don’t have the right to force you to end your life.
Cloe
I stared at the screen as if willing the words to change their meaning. I had a sense of the ground shifting beneath my feet, as if in a plain of marsh and quicksand a solitary islet where I sat with relief had begun to crumble, subsiding into the cloying and suffocating mud.
“What she say?”
I told her.
Noema turned back to the dust-obscured Martian landscape. “What we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. She’s out of reach now.”
“Then we go back?”
“You go. I’ll come later.”
“I stay with you.”
“All right.”
I thought about replying to Cloe with a text message and decided against it. What was done was done. Text messages were for important decisions and those had all been made. Cloe and Earth’s demise were still months away. For now it was necessary to settle back into a semblance of normality. I sent a comm ping to the Terra Nova and waited. After a minute her face appeared on the screen, eyes looking away.
“Cloe?”
“Yeah, Jason.”
“All fine up there?”
“Everything’s working.”
“I’m not mad at you.” I paused. “OK, irritated....really irritated, really really irritated....but not mad.”
Her face showed the hint of a smile. “That’s a relief I suppose.”
“I’ll be hanging around for a while, a good while. Noema will go up to the worm soon but she’ll be back.”
“Tell her I’m sorry Jason.”
I felt a touch on my shoulder. Noema was at my side.
“I speak to her.”
“Sure.” I vacated my seat. Noema sat whilst I stood behind her. Cloe’s eyes were wide and anxious. Noema looked at her gently.
“You have no need feel sorry. You love your people—your sister, her daughter, all you know. You cannot say: they die and we live, or we die and they live. I understand. When my people say I must bear their children I think I will kill myself before they touch me. But this is not will of An. But let them touch me also not will of An. I do not know what to do. It is Tubal who decide.”
The anxiety left Cloe’s face. “If you were here what would you have done?”
There was a long pause before Noema replied. “I think I do same thing.”
I left Noema and sat at the table. I had been an only child and both my parents were dead. I had hardly known any of my mother’s family when growing up and my father had virtually no family to speak of. I should have been solitary and self-centred, something of a social misfit, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Perhaps it was the absence of family that had made me look for a substitute in NASA. I had found in the Mars programme a sense of commitment, a place, human bonds that filled a natural lack. That ersatz family was broken now. There was nothing any longer that tied me to Earth.
But Cloe.... As the two women talked I began to understand the torment she had gone through. Noema had seen it the moment I told her what Cloe had done. We all have our blind spots, but it’s unsettling when one becomes aware of them.
I let my eyes rest on Noema. She sat with a natural poise, her carriage erect without being stiff, a grace and unconscious dignity in her demeanour. By the social rules of any human society she was far above me, and yet she had given her heart to me. As I watched her and loved her an old Rodriguez tune drifted into my head. After a time I remembered the words:
When I was young And every song was sung Like I’d never sung before And I’d sing a thousand more When I was young.
The day is done I sit on the sofa alone And I’ll no more sing The songs that used to bring The days when I was young.
With a conscious effort I banished the song from my mind. Noema glanced my way. I smiled at her.
“I have an idea. Let me speak to Cloe for a moment.”
“Come.” She turned back to the monitor. “We speak later.”
We changed places. I hesitated a moment, gathering my thoughts.
“I think I can patch up the reactor’s cooling unit.”
Cloe’s expression was curious. “How?”
“I’ll need the blueprints of the unit from the Terra Nova’s main hard drive. Can you access them?
“Yes I can. The files are not blocked, just the navigation and drive control software.”
“Good. My plan is to pinch shut the pipe running the Lithium coolant from the reactor to the damaged external vane. If I remember right there’s a spot where it’s accessible to a wrench.”
“Won’t you crack it open instead?”
“The pipes are made of a tantalum-tungsten alloy that should be pretty malleable especially at high temperatures. One way to find out.”
“And if it fails?”
“Then we’ve got twenty-four hours to evacuate before the batteries pack up. But that’s the point. If Noema leaves and the cooling pops then I’ll be dead before she can get back to me. It’ll take her two days and I have only one. So I have to try and fix it anyhow.”
“Even if you succeed, is one cooling vane enough to keep the reactor’s temperature down?”
“I’ll have to run the numbers on it, but I’m thinking one vane should do it though it’ll be pretty close to the limits.”
“OK. I’ll transmit the blueprints.”
“Thanks Cloe. And one last favour.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell Trinny what we’re doing.”
Cloe’s face turned red.
“Trust me Jason, I won’t tell him a word.”
The problem with designing a cooling system as well as everything else in a reactor is finding a substance that is hard without being too brittle and won’t melt in the extremely high temperatures created by the plutonium. There are only two candidates that fit the bill: tantalum and tungsten. Pure tantalum has a melting point of 3017°C whilst tungsten melts at 3422°C. Combining them in the ratio of 90% tantalum to 10% tungsten produces a metal alloy that is hard, resistant to corrosion and melts at 3025°C. Despite its hardness, the tantalum-tungsten alloy is not brittle: it was unlikely to crack if subjected to pressure, the kind of pressure that would crush a cooling pipe shut.
The question remained of where exactly I would access the pipes. After studying the blueprints transmitted by Cloe I concluded that the best place was the point where they emerged from the reactor shielding case. It was the only area that was clear of any surrounding obstruction, enabling me to reach the pipes without having to remove or damage anything, and I wanted to interfere with the reactor as little as possible.
Finally, I needed to know if the reactor could be kept sufficiently cool with only one vane in operation. After some calculations incorporating rate of flow, temperature of liquid lithium, and speed of heat transfer by radiation and conduction, I concluded that a single vane would be just about enough for the job. That of course was in theory. We would know in a couple of days if it worked out in practice.
“Not dangerous to do?” asked Noema after I had explained the procedure.
“No, provided I don’t get liquid lithium on my suit. I’ll take it slowly. The first sign of a leak and I’m out of there.”
“I come with you.”
“Good idea, but you don’t come into the Shirase with me. Stay outside. I’ll call you if I want any help, which means we’ll need a way of communicating.” I looked at her speculatively. “We’re not going to be able to fit a radio into your biological suit. You’ll need to wear one of our suits.”
“I wear such things before, but very long time ago.”
“They’re easy enough to manage provided we’ve got one that fits you. The good thing is that the legs and arms are interchangeable. We can take them off one suit and attach them to another. I think you’re nearest Tessa’s size but let’s measure you up first.”
After ascertaining that Tessa’s suit would fit with minimal adjustments—the arms and legs of a suit have a limited flexibility—the next step was to familiarise Noema with the pre-breathing protocol.
To maximise the time one could spend on Mars in a suit, the wearer breathed pure oxygen, which meant that the suit needed to be pressurised to only 4.7 psi, one third of the atmospheric pressure at sea level on Earth. But this created a problem. A sudden pressure drop from 11.5 psi in the Hab to 4.7 psi in the suit would cause the nitrogen in the bloodstream to turn into gas, creating bubbles that would kill an astronaut in minutes. The solution was to purge the nitrogen out of the bloodstream by slowly dropping the pressure of the suit whilst its wearer breathed the pure oxygen, and then remove the exhaled nitrogen from the suit. Once out the Hab the suit automatically regulated the decrease in pressure over an hour-and-a-half long period, but it was necessary to keep an eye on the process which was done by watching a small LED pressure bar inside the Z4’s helmet. Any mistake meant dying in agony.
To make the EVA time even longer the astronaut spent about half an hour in the Hab breathing pure oxygen through a mask before donning his suit. This begins the process of removing nitrogen from the blood, enabling him to set the air pressure in the suit at 8.4 psi which reduces the length of time necessary to drop the pressure to the optimal 4.7 psi once outside on the Martian surface.
“When you’re outside it’s important you don’t breathe too deeply. You’re getting pure oxygen at 8.4 psi which is way more than the body needs. Breathe in too much and you get oxygen poisoning. It causes nausea, dizziness, blurred vision. When it gets bad you get muscle twitching and convulsions.”
“How long I must think of this?”
“About an hour. After that the oxygen level is more or less normal for the body.”
“When I come back I must be careful too?”
“No. A sudden increase in air pressure doesn’t have any effects. Just undo the helmet slowly when you’re in the airlock and let the air pressure equalise before you remove it.”
The rest of the suit’s functions were fully automated and just had to be monitored from time to time.
“The LED display inside the helmet—the one you use to watch the air pressure—also tells you how other things are doing: how much oxygen you have left, remaining battery power, water temperature.”
“Water?”
“In daylight the suit is cooled using water. It can get warm in there, especially if you’re generating body heat with exercise. If any of these get critical the LED display flashes. You also hear a warning sound in the headset, a different sound for low oxygen, low power, rising water temperature, and so on. I’ll have to play you samples of each warning sound so you can recognise them.”
The explanations over, Noema spent two hours in the airlock wearing the suit until she was familiar with its weight balance and agility. Only then was I ready to let her accompany me out the Hab.
Repairing the reactor cooling system was remarkably straightforward. Using my helmet headlamp in the dark and narrow confines of the Shirase’s interior I found the damaged cooling vane’s outlet and inlet pipes and sealed them shut with the powered wrench. No trace of molten lithium appeared. With the flow reduced to almost zero, the lithium in the damaged vane would soon cool and solidify, cutting the residual flow altogether and sealing the pipes. The Shirase’s built-in computer would compensate and pump the coolant faster through the remaining vane. Its temperature would rise but not enough to boil the lithium. The hotter coolant would lose heat faster from the good vane, keeping the reactor’s temperature within tolerable limits, that is, if my maths was right.
In the meantime I had another concern.
“We need to recover the other rover,” I said, once we were back in the Hab.
“Why?” asked Noema. “We have one.”
“Yes, but it might break down. I’ll probably be here for some time and I want to be sure I can get to the pod whenever it comes down. I sent the first rover in by remote control, using the Hab’s transmitter dish, but if I try to bring it back that way Earth will see what I’m doing and they may try to stop me. If I tow the rover back with the one here there’s nothing they can do.”
“You worry too much.”
“It’s what I was trained to do.”
Noema shrugged. “Good. When we leave?”
I took her hand and kissed it. “This time I need you to say here. It’s better for someone to keep an eye on the Hab and the reactor while I’m gone. I’ll show you how everything works.”
“I think we just go.”
“I don’t mind taking risks, but not when I don’t have to. Will you do this for me?”
Noema smiled. “We do as you say.”
The main components of the Hab are the life support systems. The water purifier condenses excessive humidity out of the air and also cools the Hab. Next is the atmospheric regulator, that keeps the crucial balance between oxygen and nitrogen in the Hab’s air. The most important unit was the oxygenator. Carbon dioxide is toxic. If air has a concentration of CO2 greater than 1 per cent you become drowsy. Above 5 per cent you have difficulty staying awake. Above 8 per cent you die. The oxygenator heats the carbon dioxide to 900°C then passes it over a zirconia electrolysis cell which separates the carbon from the oxygen. The carbon is expelled into the Martian atmosphere and the oxygen returned to the Hab’s air. They all need to be watched. I showed Noema how to find the various sensor readings on the monitor and then demonstrated how to repair the most likely faults. Probably unnecessary as I was going to be away for only a couple of hours but it kept us busy and that was worthwhile in itself.
Explanations of how the sensor readings were displayed on the monitor led naturally to an overview of how the Hab’s computer worked, where to find the important data files, and how to communicate with the Terra Nova. By this point I was teaching for teaching’s sake. Noema’s quick, brilliant mind absorbed my lessons effortlessly. We were busy on something together, better than sitting morosely with nothing to do except stare at the brown and empty floor of the Echus.
“That’s it. C—Analysis folders—Error Reports—List, and you’re there. That one. Every kind of error report defined. Most of them are easy. If any one doesn’t make sense I can explain it to you. All of us on the Terra Nova learnt them by heart.”
“Yes, I understand. Some words strange but I can learn. This a little like what we do in early days.”
“Good. Now you want to find and read the records of how the equipment is behaving, especially the cooling vane. We go here....”
The afternoon wore into evening. We covered the material quickly and I repeated nothing but I did not lose Noema once. What was the IQ of a genetically enhanced brain? Her intellect was nothing short of genius. At one point I stopped halfway through an explanation. She glanced at me.
“I say something wrong?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think you can get anything wrong.”
“You are good teacher.”
“Let’s stop for now. I’m a little tired.”
“Your eyes tired.” She paused. “No. Sad.”
“I try not to be.”
Noema held my hand and kissed me. “I too.”
30. It was the following morning. The rover moved slowly over the dusty russet ground at a steady eight kilometres an hour. Behind it the second rover was attached with the towing bar which had been included for just this purpose, in the event of one rover breaking down away from the Hab.
As I sat, eyes scanning the ground for rocks that might damage its wheels, my mind gradually drifted into a quiet space between thought and will, where the heart moved where it would and brief flickers of old half-forgotten memories surfaced and faded. Childhood memories from a time when joy was a birthright and sorrow a passing mood. How had Fitzgerald put it? So we beat on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past. Old faces, old games, old reassurances, old tunes.
I never knew why My dreams had to die, At the end of the street Where I first met you now Let it go.
Can’t bring back the past, Why it didn’t last Is one of those questions The answer I’ll never know.
I’ll just bury the day And be on my way, The past’s in the past Only one thing to do, Let it go.
Poor man’s wisdom, written when Rodriguez was young and thirty years of failure lay ahead of him, but wisdom nonetheless. When the answer is that there is no answer, one can do nothing but bow one’s head and accept what cannot be changed, what is written in stone, in rock, twenty miles of it. I looked up at the mustard sky. Ganymed would fly past Mars in twenty days, so close the planet’s gravity would alter its trajectory, sending it like a slingshot straight towards the Earth. The god of war would live up to his name in a way the myths could never have imagined.
I brought the rover to a halt then stepped down to the ground and turned to the sunrise. The morning sun shone weakly through the dust-laiden air. The Martian storm, which had formed several days earlier, had shifted to the east but would take some time to move completely clear of the Echus valley, whose far walls would become visible again. Not that it mattered.
I climbed back on the rover and moved on. Over the top of the rise the distant dot of the Hab became visible. I gave a signal bleep.
“Can you hear me?”
The reply came, hissing and indistinct. “Yes but not strong.”
“How’s the Hab?”
“All good. I say again you worry too much.”
“Let me have one fault.”
“One only.”
“Everything’s fine here. I have the second rover in tow. I can see the Hab now.”
“The pod is good?”
“It’s fine. It opened when I approached then closed up as normal.”
“It can stay on ground for three days, four days. Then I must go.”
“The cooling system’s stable?”
“I check computer as you show me. Nothing change.”
“Good girl.”
As I completed the last lap to the Hab I concluded it wasn’t worthwhile teaching Noema how to drive the rover. It was a useful skill but not necessary as she wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. She could learn it later. It would be simple enough to master.
I parked the rovers by the Hab entrance and climbed the stairway to the airlock. A few minutes later I was out of my suit. The inner airlock door opened. There she stood. I wanted so much to embrace her, hold her and never let go. It was an effort of will to quell the impulse. I smiled.
“I’m in the mood for a cup of coffee. Do you want some as well?”
“Yes, I begin to like it.”
As the water heated up I discussed our next move.
“Cloe will be in signal range in one hour. I’m thinking we can ask her to check if Trinny is willing to pass on another broadcast from us. We did promise him one after all."
“You speak of what you see in worm?”
“Yes. It’ll be the first time I’ve ever told them anything of a religious nature. They don’t think I have an interest in God or anything like that. So what I say should have some impact. You must speak as well. If we both tell them the same thing it’ll make it more believable.”
“We tell them what we see together. Later I will show other things more wonderful than this. When we speak again we speak of them.”
“What things?”
“I cannot tell you in words. Strange but—how to say—filling the heart.”
“More humans like we saw?”
“Same but not same. This you see with eyes. It is one place only and there is only....no, let me not say. Better I show you.”
“All right.”
The kettle had boiled. I prepared the cups.
“Sugar with your coffee?”
“Yes.”
I took the cups to the table, gave Noema hers then sat and began to sip at mine.
“You think it is impossible to make Mars like Earth?”
“How you do that? You must give it air you can breathe. Where you find air? How you make it?”
“Boil off the dry ice at the poles to raise atmospheric pressure. Bring frozen Ammonia to Mars from the outer solar system and break it down to release Nitrogen into the atmosphere. Then use algae to convert the carbon dioxide into oxygen.”
“You have not means to do that. Not enough of your ships to take ammonia to Mars, take machines to make it warm. It is too much. How much work to send one ship with people to Mars?”
“Maybe not now, but if technology developed further it could be done.”
“Your people think this. Technology always get better and easier. But it is not so. When you make first machine to fly, two men make it. It fly a little. Not very high. Then you make machines that fly higher, faster. But more men to make them. Then you make machines that carry people over world. But they are hard to make. Many people to make them, is this not so?”
“Day come when it is too difficult to make machine that fly higher, faster. Then you stop.”
“Sure, but space travel....”
“How many to make first spaceship? How many to make spaceship now? Never two men make it.”
“So technological development has limits?”
“Yes. We learn this. That is why we change Strand. Make life to make life. Then we can do more.” She yawned. “But I am tired now.”
I stood up. “You’ve been absorbing a lot over the last day. Take some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things.”
Noema rose slowly. “Yes. I sleep a little.”
As she walked towards the bunks she stumbled. I took her by the arm and helped her to her bunk. She lay down, already half-unconscious. I lifted her feet onto the mattress, took a blanket from the bunk above and covered her with it. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, then returned to the table and sat down to wait until she was fully asleep.
I had done everything I could. The cooling system was stable and should be good for several years’ operation. Noema would be able to monitor all the life support systems of the Hab and perform basic repairs. If anything unusual occurred she could contact Cloe for help. Supplies should last nearly a year as she consumed less than I did. By then a supply ship would reach her and after that a rescue mission. With the threat of Ganymed gone Earth would spare no expense getting her safely off Mars. For I was taking the worm to Ganymed.
It was not a decision I consciously made, just one that I had no alternative but to accept. If I left, Noema would probably live. If I stayed, Cloe and every other human being would certainly die. I could not sacrifice the lives of billions for the love of one, not when Cloe finally forced me to confront the choice.
I stood up and stepped quietly over to where Noema lay. She was fast asleep. I shook her gently. She did not stir. I left her and moved across to the comm station, activated the comm link and beeped Cloe. I would need to tell her what I had done and hand Noema over to her care. A minute passed, two minutes. There was no reply. I beeped her again and waited. Five minutes passed in silence. Something was wrong. I beeped a third time. Still no answer.
There could be several explanations, the most likely being a malfunction in the Terra Nova’s communication equipment. Cloe, like all of the crew, was fully trained to replace any defective component. Since communication was the most critical aspect of the Terra Nova every part of it was designed to be easily accessible, with several spares for anything that went wrong. I would just need to wait until Cloe had repaired whatever had popped. I double checked the Hab’s transceiver. It was in perfect working order.
The next thing was to try a signal test. A short query sent by the Hab’s transmitter would be picked up by the Terra Nova and an automated response sent back, confirming that the Terra Nova was functional and giving its position relative to the Hab’s location. I sent the signal test and immediately received the reply. The Terra Nova’s transceiver was working.
My sense of foreboding turned into alarm. There was one last thing for me to do: run a remote check on the Terra Nova’s systems. If Cloe was dead the life support readings would show no consumption of oxygen or production of carbon dioxide. After about twenty minutes the readings indicated that one human being still breathed on the ship. Cloe was alive, but I had no idea whether she was injured or comatose.
I had no option but to wait. The tranquillizer I had mixed in Noema’s coffee would keep her unconscious for several hours, by which time I had to be in the pod and on my way to the worm. I needed to debrief Cloe first and tell Trinny what I was doing. I wanted his assurance they would keep Noema fed for the three years minimum it would take to build a rescue ship that could reach her. There was no doubt the ship would be built. What price do you put on learning the secret of immortality?
Two hours passed, then three, and I received no reply from Cloe. I sat with my elbows on the table, my hands clasped together and my chin resting on them, not moving, just waiting. Any normal repair should have been completed by now. If something had gone seriously wrong and Cloe could no longer communicate with the Hab then Mission could talk to Noema directly from Earth via the Orbiter satellite. If she needed help she could still get it, albeit with a certain delay. It was moot whether Cloe or Mission communicated with Noema. But if Cloe was incapacitated why hadn’t Mission told me? I would have found out anyway.
I made up my mind. Leaving the table I went over to Noema. She did not stir. I am so sorry for what I am doing to you. I could have spent my life alone with you and never needed the company of another human being. Forgive me, my love, forgive me. I touched her lips lightly with mine and then with an effort of will turned to the airlock.
Forty minutes later I was on the rover and past the halfway mark between the Hab and the pod. The midday sun shone through the yellow sky above, its light attenuated by the fine dust in the atmosphere. In a few weeks the storm would move completely clear of the Echus valley, restoring the sunlight to its full strength again. Somewhere up there the Terra Nova moved across the sky. It would remain within communication range for a couple of hours. Noema would probably not regain consciousness before then. I could only hope that when it completed its orbit around Mars and reappeared above the eastern horizon Cloe would be able to contact the Hab again. Noema must not wake and find herself completely alone.
There. I could see the pod now, a tiny dot in the distance. When I reached it I would leave the rover and enter it without delay. I had made sure Noema had the second rover and could travel short distances from the Hab. I hoped it would ease the years’ long solitude she would have to endure.
I decided I would take things as slowly as possible when I reached the worm. There were nearly three weeks before Ganymed made its flyby past Mars. In that time I needed to gain the trust and love of the worm’s mind. There were dogs who gave their lives for their masters, such was their devotion. I doubted I could make it devoted to me to that extent, but it would be another matter if I could convey to it that its mistress’s life was in danger. If Ganymed was not destroyed Noema would die. I was fairly certain I could make the worm understand that.
I had arrived. I brought the rover to a halt and descended to the ground, then walked forward until I was about five metres from the pod. The outer leaves opened, ramming their points into the soil, and then the inner leaves unfurled in their turn, revealing the chair.
The pod would remain open for only a couple of minutes. I strode forward and placed a boot on an outer leaf. Then I hesitated, glancing upwards. What was going on in the Terra Nova? Why hadn’t Cloe made contact? The Terra Nova was designed to be an injury-free environment. How could she possibly have hurt herself? She should long since have fixed any malfunctioning part and she had a clear line of sight to the Hab. She was probably right overhead by now, somewhere near the sun. Perhaps some interference with her signal?
And then I knew.
I took my boot off the leaf and stood for a full minute, not moving, my mind racing. Yes, the only plausible explanation. And Trinny, NASA had known it all this time. I turned to face the rover. Something came to mind, a snatch of conversation, Cloe pleading with me: There’s nothing else they can do. If you were there you would do the same. No, I would not do that, not ever.
I mounted the rover and started its motor. The pod’s leaves snapped shut as I swung the vehicle around but I hardly noticed them. I had only one thought in my mind. Mars has no magnetic field. I pushed the rover as fast as I dared. I needed to get back to the Hab and speak to Cloe before Noema awoke. The bright sparks at NASA would figure out that I had called their bluff. They would let Cloe speak to me. Keeping communications severed would not help them. Cloe was their only hope now.
Memory is a fickle thing. So much of its recall ability depends on context. One fact presented to our minds leads us to remember another, and then another, in a chain of relatedness. But break the first link and the rest of the chain will not form. Put the mind in a context where it has no occasion to think of the first fact and the conclusions, so obvious, so plain, simply do not follow.
Mars has no magnetic field. Of course I knew that. A primary school pupil knows it. The moon has no magnetic field either and in consequence the astronauts who went there risked their lives. Why? Because a magnetic field protects from solar flares. Solar flares are vast eruptions from the sun that spew a mass of particles, electrons and protons into space. It is the protons that are particularly deadly. Tearing through the body’s molecular structure, they could kill an astronaut instantly or at least give him acute and ultimately fatal radiation sickness. The sun was going through a time of high solar activity when many flares were being formed. Space had become an especially hazardous place to explore.
NASA had anticipated the problem. The Shepard was shielded against protons as were the sleeping quarters of the Terra Nova. Since protons travelled more slowly than the particles emitted by a flare, Earth had enough time after detecting the particles to warn the crew to seek shelter in the Terra Nova’s bunkrooms or, if they were on Mars, in the Shepard. But the Hab, with its shell of light aluminium, had no insulation. One large flare would kill its occupants unless they were lucky enough to have a dust storm overhead whose iron oxide grains gave some protection.
But there was more. Mars’ lack of atmosphere meant anyone on the surface was exposed to Cosmic rays, supercharged subatomic particles that were emitted from dying stars and travelled at incredible speeds, ripping through living tissue like hot pins. They were far more difficult to shield against. The Earth’s magnetic field stopped many of them, its thick atmosphere taking care of most of the remainder. On Mars one was exposed to them constantly. The only safe place was underground, with metres of rock between one’s fragile body and the subatomic storm raining down above. Dwelling on the surface long enough meant death, and Noema would have to stay on the surface for at least three years.
How had all this slipped my mind? We had learned to take Cosmic particles in our stride. Since we would spend nearly all our mission time in the partially protected Terra Nova—a large part of that in the bunkrooms—Cosmic particles were deemed an acceptable risk. We would not be exposed to them too much for too long so we ignored them. Our attitude to solar flares was conditioned by the knowledge that on Mars we would have plenty of time to reach the shelter of the Shepard. They were not, in mission terms, a threat. They could both be forgotten. And so I had forgotten them.
I reached the Hab and slammed on the rover’s brakes, skidding to a halt. One bound from the foot of the stairs took me up to the airlock entrance. Five minutes later I was in the Hab’s living quarters. Noema was still asleep. I looked closely at her. She did not move, and breathed slowly and evenly. Good.
Sitting at the comm station I opened the message tab and began to type.
Cloe, I know why they won’t let me talk to you. You’re in your bunkroom and a flare has hit the ship. You would have warned me if you could. I’m alive and so is Noema. The dust storm is a good enough shield. I don’t feel any symptoms of radiation sickness.
I gave Noema some anaesthetic and was going to take the worm to Ganymed. I wanted to tell you before I left. I taught her enough to run the Hab and deal with any basic problems and my plan was for you to help her with the rest. Cloe I can’t do that now. I’m a fool. I never thought of flares and Cosmic radiation. Noema will die if I leave her here. I can’t deliberately—cold bloodedly—end someone’s life to save someone else or even save everybody. That’s how Dieter thought.
Tell them what I know. I’m guessing you are able to receive text messages. When they read this they might let you speak to me. I’m sending Noema back to the worm today. I don’t want her subjected to another flare, even with the dust storm.
I’m sorry Cloe. I hope you understand.
An hour passed. Noema did not stir. The Hab was silent. I remained at the comm station, waiting. Twenty minutes for Cloe to radio Earth. Twenty minutes for a reply. And then the time for Trinny, NASA, Earth to decide whether they would come clean. They deserved to die, turning me into a killer. Would any of them have been prepared to sacrifice their lives as they had so easily made me ready to sacrifice Noema’s and mine?
The comm link beeped. I jerked as if I had received a shock. I switched on the speakers, volume turned down low.
“Jason?”
“Yeah, Cloe.”
“You were right. When I knew they had already locked me out of the transmitter. Receive only. I had forgotten about flares as well. Makes us two fools.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. I stay two hours in my bunkroom. It’s passed now. Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yeah I’m fine.”
“Noema?”
“She’s asleep but she’ll wake up soon.”
“Jason, they sent me an AV. My mother, my father, my sister, even her girls. They all beg me to make you take the worm to Ganymed. Trinny made me swear to convince you before he unblocked the transmitter. I promised them. I gave them grand emotion, tears and everything. An Oscar performance.”
“You want me to go to Ganymed?”
“Ils peuvent ficher le camp. They lied to us, lied all the way through. It’s not your fault Ganymed will hit Earth. It’s nobody’s fault. You must look after Noema. She is a treasure. We all have one life and if it ends it ends. That is how it is. I accept it and I will not let you become another Dieter. If you go to the pod I swear I get in the airlock without a suit and open the hatch. You can see my body in space. You hear me?”
Even with the volume down Cloe’s voice rang through the confines of the Hab.
“Hey, Cloe, it’s OK. I’m not going anywhere. I came back. I’m not doing it again, ever. That’s a promise.”
For a long moment neither of us spoke. Then Cloe smiled sadly.
“Sorry. I overreact.”
“It’s not your fault he died.”
“Non? He was going to let you die, and I let him die. It’s stupid. I still love him. He loved me, no matter what he became. He wanted to save me. I....” She stopped and turned away from me. “Enough. I’ll tell them.”
“Don’t say anything for now. Let me put an AV together. I’m still commander and it’s my job. Once they’ve heard from me they’ll contact you. Take it as it comes then, but they’ll know they can’t use you as a lever any more. I don’t think they’ll be hard on you. Why should they? You’ve been through enough.”
“Thank you, Jason. If a message comes I’ll pass it on.”
“You do that. I’ll get back to you soon.” The monitor became blank.
I took a deep breath and let it out as a slow sigh, then leaned back, my mind troubled. “Poor girl,” I murmured, “Poor, poor girl,” and swung the chair around to get up.
And there stood Noema behind me.
I froze, saying nothing.
“You make me sleep,” she said.
“Yes.”
“So you can take worm to Ganymed.”
“Yes.”
“All things you teach me is so I can live here.”
I did not reply.
“How long I stay here?”
“Three years.”
In her eyes there was no anger, no contempt, just simple, childlike disbelief.
“And then they come for me?”
“It will take three years to build a rescue ship.”
Those great eyes continued to regard me. Then she turned and looked at the porthole. “Do I not say you are a cruel people?” She moved across to the table, her back to me. “What you think they do? They put me in prison. They make it pretty, they smile, they feed me well, but it is prison. They ask me, day after day, how I live forever. If I do not speak they make me speak. Never they let me go. One day they learn. They make themselves immortal and then anger of An is upon them. I tell you these things. Why you not believe?”
There was nothing I could say. She turned to face me. “Why you come back?”
“I could not do it.”
“You cannot let them do these things to me?”
“No. They will never touch you.”
An indefinable expression flickered across her features. “Never touch me. Tubal say same. He keep his word.”
“I’m not Tubal. They won’t touch you, but I can’t help what happens to them.”
Her eyes softened. “No you are not Tubal. Your heart is good, but you are torn between me and your people.”
“Not any more. My way is clear.” I stood up and approached her. “My path is with you. An has shown that to me.”
“You speak truth?”
“I hid the truth from you because I wanted to save them. But I cannot do what they want me to do. I have no reason to hide anything now.”
She studied my face for several moments then slowly came to me.
I took her in my arms, a sense of relief flooding through my heart. My life was not ended nor hers blighted. God had stayed Abraham’s hand a moment before he plunged the knife into his son Isaac. I had been put to the test and it was enough. I could be happy with Noema for as long as I lived. The death of the human race was not the end of humanity. They endured—I had seen it—in a state far above their troubled, brief, unfulfilled mortal lives. Let it go. That was their answer and mine.