Space Stations

ORBITAL BASE FEAR Eric Kotani

LANDING maneuvers—uh, correction!—docking maneuvers in three hundred seconds!” Jacques Boutillier, the pilot of Mars Trailblazer, announced somewhat flamboyantly. The crew tensed in anticipation. This was the last step before reaching the Martian surface. Actually, they were about to “land” on Phobos, the larger of the two satellites of Mars; it was a little over a dozen kilometers across, with an irregular shape typical of small objects in the solar system. The surface gravity of the Martian moon was so miniscule—less than a thousandth of the standard g-force on Earth but varying widely at different locations due to the nonspherical shape—that the “landing” was essentially matching the orbital velocity with the Martian moon and establishing contact on the surface smoothly.

Poul Eriksen, the captain of this manned expedition to Mars and an experienced U.S. Air Force Space Command test pilot, was looking closely over Boutillier’s shoulder. He had an outstanding reputation among his fellow officers as the man who got the job done right, no matter what. He looked the part, too—the indomitable look of a Viking war chieftain, with an intelligent face.

Eriksen was doing his utmost to avoid the disaster that overcame the Consortium’s Mars Expedition I, and to become the captain of the first successful manned mission to Mars, something practically every kid would dream about in growing up. He had no desire to be a dead hero, but, more importantly, this was his expedition and he had no intention of letting it fail. Since he had little information on what had gone wrong in the first manned mission, it meant close supervision of everything that went on, occasionally irritating his crew, all of whom were experienced space jockeys.

Boutillier was a veteran pilot, too, with the rank of Major in the U.S. Marine Corps, Space Division. At twenty-eight he was probably the youngest among the crew; he had been selected specifically for his skill and fast reflexes in landing flying ships of all sorts. His credentials included piloting the Navy’s single stage to orbit ships several times. He also had a unique qualification—successful landing on a small Earth-crossing asteroid a few years earlier. He looked lean, his brown hair framing the clean-cut features of his determined face; there was hardly any suggestion of his one-eighth Cherokee ancestry there. He was from the Louisiana bayou country and it was not always easy to control his Cajun temper. But it was either maintain a tight grip on his disposition or be disqualified for the mission. He had kept his cool.

The pilot ignored the close supervision by the captain and concentrated on the delicate final stage of contact with the small moon. He completed the “docking” maneuver with hardly a jolt felt by the four-person crew. After making sure that the ship was really at rest with respect to Phobos, he pushed the button for the anchors, firing two super-sharp harpoons into the crust of the little moon. Once the harpoons penetrated the surface to the predetermined depth, hooks extended from them, securing the anchorage.

“Anchors in place, Colonel Eriksen. We are right next to the Stickney Crater as planned.

All set for extravehicular activities now.” Old habits were hard to break; Boutillier sometimes addressed the ship’s captain by the latter’s military rank.

“Well done, Jack.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The ’landing’ site was near the huge crater, where an earlier flyby mission reported a possible ice deposit. With the chance of taking advantage of the putative ice deposit, two supply ships had been sent to the adjacent area and had been waiting for the arrival of Trailblazer. One robot ship was full of supplies; the other ship contained provisions but had been designed to serve as a habitat.

“Nobu, put on your space suit and follow me outside. We’re going to find out if the cargo aboard the supply ships arrived safely. We’ll also see if the habitat can really be made habitable, then we’ll check up on the rumored ice deposit.”

“I am ready, Captain,” answered Nobuo Okita, ship’s nuclear physicist and all-around engineer.

Looking out the neo-glass window from his pilot’s seat, Boutillier wondered aloud.

“Why do we call this huge cavity the Stickney Crater? An unusual name, I’d say.”

“It was named after the wife of the discoverer of the Martian moons, Asaph Hall of the U.S. Naval Observatory. His wife’s maiden name was Chloe Angeline Stickney.” Okita, who was an astronomy buff, offered the answer, spelling out her first name for the benefit of his audience. “I understand she was a brilliant mathematician and an interesting woman. After her marriage to Hall, she would sometimes sign her letters using her initials, C.A.S.H.”

After his discovery in 1877, Hall named the two moons Phobos and Deimos, Fear and Panic, the two ancient companions of the war god, Mars. The Crater was not discovered for about a century after the discovery of the little moon. It was “imaged” by a flyby probe in the latter part of the twentieth century. Asaph had always publicly acknowledged that he would not have succeeded in the search but for Chloe Angeline’s constant encouragement to keep looking. The International Astronomical Union approved naming the Crater Stickney to honor her important contribution.

While donning his space suit, Okita mumbled an aside to his captain. “The Consortium ship Ares was only several days behind us the last time we checked. If they go for a direct landing on Mars, they can reach the planetary surface before us.”

“Yah, don’t we all know it! We have no time to waste. Let’s get going.”

Presently, Eriksen and Okita stood on the surface of Phobos, where no human beings had walked before. The robot ships that had landed a few months before were visible at a distance of a few hundred meters. The sunlight striking the bottom of the Stickney Crater was reflected by something shiny there, possibly a dark patch of ice.

“When you start walking, slide along the surface. Avoid up and down motions. It might not be easy on this godforsaken surface, but move horizontally as much as possible. If you try jumping over an obstacle, you might end up getting into orbit around this moonlet", cautioned the captain.

“Roger that.” Actually, walking horizontally with a minimum of ups and downs came naturally to Okita. It was one of the first lessons he had to internalize in his judo class.

Many a time at the beginning, failure to do so caused him to be thrown down on his back.

As they made their way toward the two unmanned ships, Eriksen started planting automatically-piercing metallic sticks, about one and a half meters long, into the moon’s crust at an interval of several meters. Like the harpoons for anchoring the ship, once the sharp point reached a certain depth, the stick would release an anchorlike hook that would open underground. But he had to be careful when he gave the stick an initial shove downward so as not to propel himself into a trajectory. Okita, following his captain, ran a wire through a loop on each pole. Those who would follow the path to the supply ships in the future could run a hand around the wire and avoid the embarrassment of pushing themselves into a flight path.

An inspection of the inside of the ships showed that the shipments had arrived intact and that the habitat, after minor rearrangements, would provide a living space for several occupants.

“Good, now we can stay on Phobos without worrying much about consumables. When we send the shuttle down to the surface, we may even be able to bring back some ice from near the polar regions,” said Eriksen, sounding optimistic.

The shiny dark patch was another few hundred meters away. Upon arriving there, Okita got down on his stomach without being told to do so and cautiously crawled onto the shiny material. Somewhat to his disappointment, the shiny surface was not ice; it would have been too good to be true, anyway. The shiny surface was a glassy material and was smooth and slippery. He was glad that he had taken the precaution; he might otherwise have skidded off, if not into a low orbit around the moon, at least to the other side of this shiny patch some fifty meters away. At the far side, he could see an overhang of rocks—

just beyond where the glassy material ended. Whatever was below the overhang was totally shaded from the sunlight.

“This stuff is glassy—maybe it’s molten rock. Too bad it’s not an ice patch. I want to take a look at what’s underneath that protruding rock over there.” Okita informed Eriksen.

“Okay, go ahead. Watch your step. I’ll hang around here and check things out on this side.”

Okita decided to walk around the slippery patch rather than crawl across it. When he reached the spot, he saw that the overhang concealed a cavelike structure underneath.

The ceiling was high enough so that he could walk into it. It was total darkness inside as there were no air molecules to scatter the sunlight from outside. One moment he was stepping into the cave and the next moment he skidded and ended up on his back.

Thankfully, in the low gravity of Phobos, the fall was slow and gentle. He felt foolish for not having turned on his portable flashlight before stepping in. When he corrected his mistake and turned on the light, he was instantly alert. For instead of finding more of the glassy staff, what he saw definitely looked like an ice deposit.

Eriksen joined him promptly, as fast as the low gravity permitted him to move. After ascertaining to his satisfaction that the stuff was indeed ice, Eriksen brought out instruments and started measuring the dimensions of the ice lake inside the cave. The surface area was easy enough to estimate. It was the thickness of the ice that presented a problem in determining the volume of the ice deposit, as the thickness could vary from place to place. He solved the problem by measuring the depth at several randomly selected sites. The average depth seemed to be no less than ten meters. As the surface area was about twenty by thirty meters, this represented several thousand tons of water, which could sustain the crew for a long time. Of course, once they established a base on the Martian surface, there would be a virtually inexhaustible supply of water in the form of polar ice, even without counting on the possible underground deposits of ice in some places.

While Eriksen was measuring the size of the ice deposit, Okita looked around his surroundings for anything unusual. During the long voyage out, Jacques Boutillier had shared with Okita his secret suspicion that Mars might not have been an entirely dead planet. The mysterious catastrophe that befell Expedition I several years earlier had probably been a natural disaster, but it could also have been caused by something else—or, should he say, something artificial?

Mars Expedition I, the first manned mission by an international consortium—consisting of the U.S. (NASA), European Union (ESA), the Russian Federation and Japan—to Mars seven years earlier, ended up in a mysterious disaster. The exact cause of the failure was still under investigation and remained unclear.

The crew of Mars Expedition I, the first expedition to the fourth planet, had no leeway in picking the time to land. They had to land when they arrived and where they were supposed to, no matter what the planetary conditions were. Mars Expedition I lost contact with Earth when it was behind the planet—just as it was preparing to land.

Those back on Earth had never learned what had happened during the communications blackout as no message had since been received.

The orbital probes that were sent later to the Red Planet could find no trace of the spacecraft anywhere on the ground. Since the doomed ship’s orbit was inclined to the equator, the ship might have plunged into the dry ice in the polar cap and disappeared underneath. The total surface area of the Red Planet was comparable to that of the entire land area of Earth. Finding the ship, if it had indeed crashed somewhere, would be more difficult than finding from space a Boeing 707 that had crashed somewhere on the Eurasian continent, even if the terrain were completely bare of any plants, animals, or artifacts.

The direct landing on the fourth planet was in part necessitated by the slowness of the journey using the Hohmann trajectory, in which the ship accelerated only at the beginning, then coasted along in free fall, and decelerated at the end of the journey to match Mars’ orbital velocity. It took so long getting there that the ship did not have sufficient reserve of consumables, which would have afforded the luxury of looking over the planet from an orbital altitude before landing. The ship needed to land without delay so that the crew could get at the provisions that had been dispatched to the landing site several months in advance.

One way to avoid the necessity of directly landing on Mars from Earth orbit was to shorten the travel time so that the ship would have ample provisions first to go into orbit around Mars and make certain that the landing would be safe. But it was all but impossible to do so with the conventional chemically powered rocket engines, which took so long in getting the crew to the destination. The ship could carry barely enough to keep the crew going for the nine months that it took to get there.

To shorten the travel time, it would be necessary to accelerate continuously for an extended period beyond the insertion to trans-Martian orbit. One way to do that was to use a nuclear powered rocket engine. It had turned out that the U.S. Air Force Space Command had been successful in developing an experimental nuclear fusion engine. Its early version had been proposed in the 1980s by Bussard at the time of the strategic defense initiative program; in its original form, the engine used protons, boron-11, lithium-6, deuterium, and helium-3 in appropriate cycles. This cycle did not emit neutrons, which made it safe for the human crew using this type of nuclear fusion engine. It had not been funded for development at the time but had later been picked up by the Space Command under the obscure budget heading of High-Efficiency Space Propulsion System. The label was not deceptive, as the nuclear fusion engine would be easily several times more efficient than chemical rockets in terms of the fuel mass involved. With a nuclear fusion engine of this type, it was possible to make it from Earth orbit to Mars orbit in just two months.

Just as importantly—perhaps even more significantly—placing the interplanetary ship on tiny Phobos first and sending a much smaller shuttle to the planetary surface meant that they would not have to expend a great deal of fuel to land the entire mass of the huge ship and lift it again from Mars for the return trip home. Instead, they would be landing and lifting the considerably smaller mass of the shuttle.

However, the phobia over using nuclear power was strong among the political parties in control of the leading countries in Europe that made up the ESA, as had sometimes been the case in the United States.

After the failure of the first manned mission to Mars, recognizing the immense advantages of using a fusion engine, the U.S. had broken away from the Consortium.

The U.S. manned mission to Mars had become a joint venture between the Air Force Space Command and NASA.

To show unity with the European Union, Russia had decided to stick with the

Consortium although historically Russia had had much fewer scruples about the use of nuclear power in space or elsewhere. Anchoring Mother Russia firmly to Western Europe was the sine qua non priority on their political agenda.

Japan left the Consortium when the multinational undertaking broke up with the departure of the U.S. and then joined the U.S. The most important reason for joining the U.S. expedition was perhaps the persuasive argument of the influential Japanese scientist, Professor Ikeda of the Institute of Space and Astronautical Science (ISAS), that the fusion engine and the plan to use Phobos as a space station before landing would give Trailblazer a substantially better chance of success than the Consortium’s Ares Mission. The Japanese also figured that chances of a Japanese astronaut to be chosen for the four-man crew of Ares would be low. The member states of the Consortium would all be vying for a seat for their nation and there were more than four leading European countries involved in the venture without even counting Russia. At that point, the U.S. made an irresistible offer to the Japanese; they would include a Japanese astronaut if Japan signed on.

Okita was a first-rate nuclear physicist and engineer from the Tokyo Institute of Technology, having done his postdoctorate work at the ISAS. He had also spent childhood years in the U.S. with his diplomat father and his biochemist mother who lectured at local universities wherever her husband was posted. In consequence, Okita spoke accentless Midwestern American and there would be no language barrier between him and his American teammates.

The Consortium expedition, called Ares I, had left Earth’s orbit about six months before the departure of Trailblazer I, but it was still on its way to Mars on a free-falling Hohmann orbit and was now actually behind Trailblazer. The Consortium had not given up on the thought of being the first on Mars and maybe counting on its competitor’s announced plan to convert Phobos into a space station first before attempting a landing on the Red Planet itself in their shuttle.

As Eriksen and Okita returned to Trailblazer, the ship’s planetary atmosphere specialist, Linde Hoerter, looked a little agitated. When she got really excited, which was not often, her Pennsylvania Dutch speech became noticeable. It was clear that she needed to talk to Eriksen in a hurry.

“Poul, I’ve been keeping a close watch on the Martian surface. There’s a possibility that a storm might be brewing near the area where the supply ship for Ares landed earlier Based on my analysis, this storm could become a nasty one. The timing is a little off from the storm season advocated by some experts on Earth, but these pesky events don’t follow any strict schedules anyway. We need to watch this one carefully before we dispatch Valkyrie to the surface.” The shuttle had been informally named Valkyrie by the captain, and his crew were all willing to oblige his whim.

Eriksen was his usual taciturn self. “You’ve told me before that no expert knows for sure how sandstorms get started. You are our expert. If we can’t depend on your prognosis, we have no one else to turn to. We’ll play it safe and heed your warning.”

After pausing a moment, he added, “Send a storm warning to Ares. They will be getting here in just a few days.”

“There could be a problem in getting them to pay attention to my warning.”

“Explain yourself, Linde.”

“Their Martian atmosphere expert, Roel van Dijk, does not agree with me on how a sandstorm gets started on Mars. He believes sandstorms occur only at the perihelion passage of Mars. As you know, Mars is already several months past perihelion. To complicate matters, there’s evidence that at least some sandstorms or dust devils are kicked up by falling meteoroids that are not burned up in the atmosphere; the Martian atmosphere is too thin to incinerate them. To be sure, falling meteorites could kick up dust and at least contribute to the storm. On this one issue, we have had many a running battle at scientific meetings over the years. He will probably advise Captain Ritter to reject our foul weather advisory. They are still trying to beat us and Ritter will have a strong motivation to listen to van Dijk.”

Eriksen pondered this a moment. “Send them a warning anyway. I would be damned if they did not have a warning from us before they made that crucial decision to land.”

An hour later, Eriksen received a reply from Ritter. The captain of Ares thanked Eriksen for the courtesy and would take the warning under advisement.

Eriksen considered the wording of the message. “Ritter might actually be thinking seriously about placing his ship in a parking orbit and watching a while if a big storm develops. On the other hand, he may be sandbagging us. If we think that Ares will be getting into a parking orbit, we’ll not be in a hurry to land Valkyrie. That will give them a chance to slip by us and land on Mars before us. Besides, getting into a parking orbit will cause them to use additional fuel; they don’t have much extra fuel to spare, and can’t count on what’s on the supply ship before actually seeing it for themselves.”

The Consortium’s two robot supply ships with fuel and provisions were sending out electronic signals saying that the contents were intact, but one would be unwise to rely on the transmitted signals where one’s life depended on them.

Boutillier spoke up. “Why don’t we send Valkyrie down before Ares gets here. I volunteer to pilot it to the surface and plant our flag and fly back right away after video taping the flag planting event.” Noticing Okita and remembering the other partner in the expedition, he corrected himself quickly. “I mean—plant our flags.”

Eriksen was firm. “No, we are going to do it the way we have planned from the beginning. Being beaten in a race with the Consortium would not constitute a sufficient justification for not following our carefully made plans—especially, considering the imminent danger of a major sandstorm.”

He went on. “We must make Orbital Base Phobos a viable station first. For one thing, we must make sure that, if something should happen to Valkyrie, the remaining crew would still be able to make it back to Earth safely with the provisions from our supply ships. If our friends aboard Ares choose not to be cautious with their lives, that’s their problem.”

Nevertheless, Eriksen ordered Valkyrie to be detached from Trailblazer and ready for departure for Mars on short notice. Even in the low gravity of Phobos, the inertial mass of Valkyrie was considerable and it was a delicate operation. The heavy work was pretty much automated, however.

“I’m almost certain now a severe local storm is gathering on the surface where Ares will be landing. I’ve just given Roel van Dijk a second warning but I don’t think he’ll believe me,” Hoerter said with frustration.

Boutillier was still raring to go. “I’m game for flying down in Valkyrie. Anyone who wants to come along for the ride’ll be welcome. I don’t insist on being the first to step out of the ship either. We can toss a coin. After planting the flags, we’ll head back immediately if the surface condition looks threatening. We can still be the first on Mars.

The rest of us can take turns going down to the surface later.”

Boutillier was obviously trying to avoid the accusation that the reason why he was proposing this quick trip down was to become the very first man to walk on Mars (as Neil Armstrong had become the first man to walk on the Moon in July 1969) and thus to become immortalized in history. He was anxious to be the first, but he was even more eager to make sure that Trailblazer would not be beaten to the first place.

Eriksen was unsympathetic. “No go, Jack. Linde, keep me posted on the gathering storm on Mars. Let’s all get back to turning Phobos into a working orbital base first. Even if we don’t get to be the first to land on Mars, we are going to be the first to do it right. In the long run, setting up an orbital base on Phobos will be more important in the exploration of the Red Planet than just planting the flags first. Especially, if we are going to terraform Mars someday for serious human exploration.”

Several days later, the business of setting up a habitat on Phobos was nearly complete, but the surface conditions on Mars looked ever more perilous, at least in the opinion of Hoerter. Ares was about to enter Mars’ vicinity, taking trajectory to land at a location marked by the transmission beam from their waiting supply ship.

Eriksen offered Ritter a safe haven on Orbital Base Phobos to wait out the gathering storm on Mars, but the gesture was politely declined. The storm had not picked up significant force yet and the Ares team wanted to make it to the surface, get the provisions from the robot ships, and be hunkered down there if indeed a storm should become a threat. If it started looking ominous enough, they could leave the surface after loading up the provisions and get into a Mars orbit and wait for several months until the orbital configuration for Earth became appropriate for the journey home.

The message that Ares was about to land on Mars was received at the Phobos base with mixed emotions, mostly with a sense of frustration and even resentment. Trailblazer could have been the first, but Eriksen would not risk his expedition team. If he did not have complete faith in the scientific predictions of his Martian atmosphere expert, he was nevertheless unwilling to take a chance that Hoerter was wrong.

At the present distance of Earth, those back home would be receiving this epoch-making report in several minutes. What a depressing thought. To be so close to making a genuine historic first and ending up being a second team in. No one will remember us, Boutillier thought furiously.

Some minutes later, back on Earth at the Headquarters of the European Space Agency in Paris, the Director General, Professor Dominique Laget was listening to the live news retransmitted from the receiving station in Villafranca near Madrid. The video screen on the great wall of the conference room would soon be showing the Martian surface from the television camera on Ares. Upon hearing the report that their ship was about to land on Mars, his distinguished face brightened in an inimitable Gaulish smile. He was joined by several dozen ranking officials of the Consortium that included a number from the Russian Federation.

Laget’s pert strawberry-blonde secretary from Brittany started filling up the champagne glasses with the finest produce from the Champagne province. The same scene was being repeated all over Europe, with some variations in the choice of beverages. The entire subcontinent of Europe was ready to have the greatest festivities ever.

By design, the landing would take place when the side of Mars with the landing site was facing Earth.

It was only seconds before Ares was actually to make a touchdown that the transmission suddenly broke down. The last scene from the video camera on Ares showed an

immense tornadolike dust cloud rapidly approaching the spaceship over the barren wasteland of Mars. The last vocal transmission received, just before the communication was cut off, said, “We are about to be overtaken by a great tornado. We will…” Ritter never got to complete his sentence.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, television and radio broadcasters were announcing that the transmission from Mars had been disrupted by unexplained technical difficulties.

After a while, in place of the direct report from Ares, there came a transmission from Orbital Base Phobos. They had had to wait a few hours for it, as the Martian moon had gone behind its mother planet in its approximately 0.31 day orbit.

As soon as Phobos was over the horizon for the line-of-sight contact with Ares, Captain Eriksen reported to Earth with a sense of foreboding. “We have no radio contact with Ares—no visual sighting either. The area surrounding the landing site is near the center of an immense dust cloud. We’ll try making radio contact and keep looking for a break in the sandstorm.”

Aboard Trailblazer, the crew huddled for a conference.

“What’s your diagnosis now, Linde? Will the storm clear up anytime soon?” Eriksen asked.

“The storm appears to be local and relatively minor. We lack sufficient data about such events on Mars and it’s hard to tell. There’s an indication, though, that it may be clearing up. We need to keep watching.”

“It’s troubling there’s no radio contact with Ares. The storm may have damaged the communications antennae,” Boutillier interjected his thoughts.

Eriksen looked grave. “What worries me most is whether the ship itself is still intact. I don’t think it was designed to cope with a sandstorm like that. I’m concerned about the safety of her crew.”

Another orbit later, there still was no communication from Ares despite repeated attempts at contact from both Trailblazer and the Consortium’s control antennae on Earth. All receiving stations around the globe were intently listening in for any signal from Ares. In the meanwhile, the Trailblazer crew worked around the clock to complete the refitting of the supply ships as a habitat so that they could house refugees from Ares if any were rescued.

At another all-hands meeting, Eriksen recapped the situation succinctly. “There are still no signals from Ares. Linde, bring us up to date on the conditions below, will you please?”

“At the landing site of Ares there may be a break in the dust storm soon, lasting maybe about an hour or so.”

“How about the conditions at the spot picked for our own landing?” Eriksen wanted to have a more complete weather report.

“Unless it’s for an emergency, I would not advise you to land Valkyrie there for at least a few days.”

Anyway, it was clear in the minds of everybody present that ascertaining the safety of Ares and rescuing any surviving members came first before the completion of their own mission objectives. The crew selection board for Trailblazer would not have passed anyone whose first concern would not be for the well-being of their comrades, even when those colleagues were on the competing team.

Before Eriksen had the chance to address the issue, Boutillier spoke up eagerly.

“Unless we hear from Ares very soon, I volunteer to take Valkyrie down for a look. If there are survivors, I’ll rescue them. The shuttle is a two-seater, but if I don’t take any cargo, we can jury-rig another seat in it. If all four are alive, I guess I’ll have to go back again.”

“How are you going to get inside Ares to find out if there are survivors? If you force your way through the hatch, you may be sealing the fate of any survivor by exposing them to the near-vacuum of Mars,” Okita objected.

“I’ll knock on the door or something and find out if there’s anyone inside who’ll respond.

If no one responds, it probably won’t matter if I force my way in. Besides, if they have any sense, they’ll all be wearing their space suits by now. I’ll take four portable oxygen masks with me, though, just in case. Maybe, I can put the masks on their faces before they suffocate in near vacuum.”

Eriksen cut in before the discussion progressed any further. “Piloting Valkyrie for a mission of mercy should be my job. It’s still chancy there. As the captain, I can’t expose Jack to such a risk.”

If Eriksen sounded firm about his counterproposal, Boutillier was even more adamant about his idea. “Poul, as captain, your foremost responsibility is to the entire crew. The rescue mission for Ares has to come second. There’re two experienced pilots on this mission for a good reason. Even if something should happen to one of us, the other will be able to take Trailblazer back to Earth. Obviously, you are more qualified than me in completing this mission and taking Trailblazer home. You are indispensable and I am expendable.”

Boutillier declared with finality. “No, Captain, I must be the one to go.”

Eriksen considered the Cajun’s impassioned plea for several moments and reached a decision. It was evident that he did not like what he was about to say.

“All right, you win, Jack. One condition, though. You will not risk your life unnecessarily and you will do your utmost to come back safely, with or without any surviving members of Ares. Don’t forget, we still need you to land Valkyrie at our own site and complete the mission. You are still the best pilot within tens of millions of kilometers.”

Eriksen knew that Boutillier might not follow his injunctions but, by Mighty Odin, he had to tell him.

It took one more orbit of Phobos around Mars before Hoerter gave Boutillier a reluctant “go” sign. Hoerter cautioned him that the safety window was brief and that Boutillier ought to head back at most within an hour of landing, no matter what he found there.

There was no telling what a fierce dust storm, with wind velocities sometimes running up to several hundred kilometers an hour, could do to the propulsion system of Valkyrie, even in the low air density of Mars.

While descending to the ground, Boutillier had the time to indulge in his secret concerns about Mars and its moons, most of which he had not shared with his crewmates. For one thing, he had always wondered if the Martian moons were entirely natural. As an undergraduate at the U.S. Naval Academy, he had studied celestial mechanics for its own elegant beauty. He loved the subject. It was clear to him that those two Martian moons should not be there—not by an act of nature, anyway. For one thing, if they had been two passing asteroids acquired by the gravitational field of Mars, why weren’t their orbits significantly eccentric? At the time of the capture by Mars, their orbits must have been hyperbolic; even stipulating the presence of another much more massive asteroid at the time of the capture to provide the required perturbation, the orbital eccentricities for Phobos and Deimos should have remained close to unity, i.e., close to being hyperbolic.

He had often wondered if those two moons had naturally been placed in those neat orbits. Had they been put there artificially? That would imply the intervention of intelligent beings, perhaps some millions of years ago; the orbits of Phobos and Deimos seemed to be ideally suited as space stations for inhabitants of Mars. He was hoping that a thorough exploration of Phobos and Deimos—and Mars itself—would in time answer those questions.

That led to another question he had been harboring for a long time. Was the disaster that befell the first expedition seven years ago naturally caused? Or, was some sort of ancient defense system against invading ETs, meaning creatures like us, activated after all those years? He had to admit, however, that the idea of an ancient Martian strategic defense system being activated from time to time sounded more than a little far-fetched and even paranoid.

Had he voiced any of those thoughts before he had been selected, the selection board would probably have rejected him for being crazy. But now that he was by himself, these questions began gnawing at him. He shook his head vigorously to expel such negative thoughts. It did not matter if there was a Martian defense system working against all intruders. His job was to go down to the surface and rescue Ares’ crew—if he could find anyone alive.

The dust had not quite cleared up in the landing area, but Boutillier could make out his immediate surroundings, including the Ares. He was already suited up. Without wasting a second upon landing, he opened the hatch, stepped onto the ground and closed the hatch behind him immediately, to prevent dust from getting inside Valkyrie. The ground was powdery with brownish-reddish sand. After several days on Phobos, where the gravitational acceleration downward was practically nonexistent, the one third Earth normal “g” of Mars felt down right homey.

It took only a few minutes to traverse the short distance to the entrance hatch of Ares. It was tightly shut as expected. He had brought some instruments to force it open, but he decided first to knock on it to see if anyone would respond. After several heavy knocks, he waited a short while and prepared to bang on the door again. It was then that he heard a faint sound from inside.

“Jumping catfish, there is someone alive on board!” Boutillier’s heart began beating faster in excitement. He did not have to wait long before the hatch opened before him, revealing another space suit clad figure at the entrance. Masked by the heavily tinted visor, the face could not be seen clearly. Boutillier turned on his communicator and started speaking in a rapid-fire fashion, so impatient was he to learn what had happened.

He was disappointed that his opposite number did not respond and then realized that the wavelength for his space suit communicator was probably not set at the right frequency to talk to someone wearing an Ares space suit.

The Ares astronaut approached him swiftly, without bothering to close the door behind, and touched the helmet to his. He heard a faint, feminine voice say, “Turn your communicator to Band H,” and saw her pointing at the equipment for that purpose.

When he reset the band frequency to H, he could hear a pleasant feminine voice. “I am Jeanne Monier, engineering physicist of Ares. You must be from Trailblazer, n’est ce pas?”

He recognized a distinctly French accent even before hearing the last phrase and it sounded pleasant to his ears. He had grown up listening to his grandparents speaking the French patois of Louisiana’s backwood country, although he never really learned to speak it himself.

“Yes, I am Jacques Boutillier, pilot from Trailblazer. Are the rest of the crew all right?”

“I am afraid not. The storm suddenly hit us just before landing and we crash-landed; the ship hit a boulder, which caused the ship’s hull to rupture. There was a catastrophic air decompression. Captain Ritter was piloting the ship himself and wanted to move freely during the critical final maneuver, so he was not suited. Neither was Roel van Dijk, our planetary physicist, who had to monitor all instruments closely during the landing operation. The captain had ordered Boris Ivanov, the pilot, and me to suit up before the landing operation. Just in case.”

“Did Ritter know the risk he was taking, then?”

“Oh, yes, both Captain Ritter and van Dijk were aware of the risk, but they thought it was worth taking, to be the first on Mars. Anyhow, Ivanov was knocked around on impact and broke his leg. He is immobilized and is resting uncomfortably inside. The other two had no chance at all. I tried putting oxygen masks on them immediately, but it was no use.”

Boutillier suddenly felt a warm empathy for the kindred spirit. “So they died while standing their watch on the bridge.”

“Yes, that would be a gallant way to put it. Anyhow, Boris Ivanov and I are the only survivors. I have been trying to contact Trailblazer, but our receiver is not working. The dust tornado might have knocked off the antennae. With the sandstorm so fierce, I dared not go outside to check. If I had, I might not have been able to get back in. I kept sending S.O.S. signals. Did you get them? Is that why you are here?”

“No, we received no signals from you. I came down here to see if there was anything we could do to help you and your crew. Show me where Ivanov is, and I’ll carry him back to Valkyrie, our shuttle. On Mars, he can’t weigh much. But the storms might come back in force. Let’s not waste any time.”

“D’accord. I’ll show you where he is. It’s not a large ship.”

It was a bit awkward to carry another man on his back through the doorway when both were suited in bulky space suits, but Boutillier managed. He had Monier open the hatch for him when they reached Valkyrie; as he pulled Ivanov in after him, she hurried in and locked the door behind her.

They took off immediately. The storm was gathering force again and they barely made it off in one piece. Boutillier did not worry about computing a matching orbit before the takeoff; departing intact was the foremost thing on his mind. He was confident that he would be able to match orbit with Phobos, especially since he had made sure that the fuel tank was full before leaving the base.

Monier spoke up when she was certain that Boutillier could spare his attention.

“Would it be possible to pressurize this cabin so I could take off the helmet? I have been wearing this thing almost a day. The air supply is still okay for a while longer, but I could use some refreshments. That is, unless it is going to be only a matter of an hour or so to get to your mother ship.”

“It may take a few hours as I had to take off without checking the orbit of Phobos first.

We’ll pressurize the cabin right away. I should have thought of asking you before you brought it up. Sorry!” With that remark, he pushed the button to repressurize the cabin.

When her helmet was removed, it revealed a bright, intelligent face with twinkling green eyes. Boutillier felt—as the French might say—thunderstruck. He had never met a woman who had captured his attention so thoroughly at first sight. Would he be indulging himself in a fantasy if he thought she reciprocated his feelings—a little? As if to confirm his thoughts, she flashed an intimate smile.

Jeanne then murmured softly. “To think that I am being rescued by Valkyrie, a messenger of death for Odin!”

It took several more hours to match orbit with Phobos despite Boutillier’s best efforts.

Ivanov needed first aid urgently. It would take a minimum of three weeks for the fracture to heal. The extreme low gravity of Phobos would be a blessing to him, however. Jeanne Monier was not in top shape either in spite of the brave show she had put on.

The sandstorm gradually cleared up. Over the next several weeks, with Linde Hoerter keeping a watchful eye on the Martian weather pattern, the team from Trailblazer took turns in going below and setting up a temporary habitat on Mars by converting one of their two supply ships. Eriksen decreed that the habitat, which had been designed based on the previous knowledge of the Martian surface conditions, would not be safe in severe sandstorms. The habitat needed to be beefed up considerably if human beings were to live on Mars for an extended period.

Boutillier and Okita made a special trip to Ares to bury Ritter and van Dijk. Okita had brought with his communications unit a minirecorder containing Wagner’s

Goetterdaemmerung and played it as they buried the two bodies in the reddish sand, after encasing them in hermetically sealed containers. Knowing what was taking place down below, the stirring music brought tears to the eyes of the four astronauts remaining in Orbital Base Phobos.

The time came for Trailblazer to return to Earth. The ship had been designed for a four-person crew. Two out of the six people on Phobos would have to stay behind and wait for the return of Trailblazer with a two-person crew. There were provisions enough on the ground and on Phobos to keep them in good shape for up to a year.

At a gathering of all six members, Eriksen set out to select the two who would remain behind. He regarded it to be his duty to be one of the two. If the captain was expected to go down with his ship, he should be expected to stay behind, shouldn’t he? He was trying to find a second volunteer from his crew.

Eriksen’s good intentions were sidetracked again by his dauntless Cajun pilot.

After two months together on their voyage out, plus several months spent on Earth getting ready for the mission, it was well known to all that Eriksen was a happily married man with a loving wife and two small kids, who were anxiously waiting for his return. It was also no secret that Linde Hoerter had a fianci, whom she planned to marry on her return. And, Nobuo Okita had an ailing mother at home. For those reasons neither Hoerter nor Okita volunteered to stay behind but they made it clear that they would be willing to do so if called upon by the captain. Ivanov had gotten married only a few months before Ares’ departure and his wife had not seen him for almost a year; besides, his leg had not yet healed completely.

The Cajun pointed out those undeniable facts about the four and then declared that he had nobody in particular he had to go back to and he was therefore the logical person to stay behind. He carefully avoided saying anything at all personal about Jeanne Monier.

Instead, Boutillier looked at Monier—with his eyes eloquently saying the unspoken words. She looked straight back, answering his unvoiced question.

She volunteered immediately.

Eriksen clearly saw the inevitable. “All right, if you two think you can manage to survive by yourselves for the next six to nine months, so be it.”

Silently, Boutillier said to himself, To be really alone with Jeanne for six months! From where he sat now, even nine months would not seem long. Besides, this would give him plenty of time to explore Phobos for any sign that it might have been used as a space station a long time before.

Eriksen had to caution him not to use Valkyrie to go back to Mars except in the event of utter emergency, aware that he had no way of enforcing his injunctions once he was gone. Still, Jeanne would probably be a moderating influence on the audacious Cajun.

Well, he didn’t tell me not to go to Deimos. That’s another place where I could look for information about the origin of the Martian moons. Boutillier smiled to himself as he thought of all the explorations that Jeanne and he could be doing together.

Upon his return to Earth, Captain Eriksen was going to recommend that Space Station Phobos (Fear) be renamed Orbital Base Hope in view of the bright future he foresaw now.

History records that the first person to walk on Mars was from Trailblazer, and the first people to land on Mars alive were from Ares. And, the first two residents of Phobos were from both ships.

This story is dedicated to the memory of Professor Juergen Rahe, who capably directed the Planetary Exploration Program at the NASA Headquarters until his tragic death in 1997. He was a good friend and colleague for more than three decades. A Martian Crater was recently named after him.