Read Online Aurora by David A. Hardy - Free Book Online

art back on Earth, of course—had even tried her hand at imaginary planetary scenes herself—and of course she had seen the photographs taken by the unmanned rovers and airprobes which had preceded the manned mission. But observing the landscape for hours made her see minute details—textures, veins, cracks, color differences, qualities of light and shadow, reflections—which would otherwise have gone unobserved. No artist based back on Earth, and no photograph, could hope to capture these in the way that she could. Yet some scientists wanted to send only robots to this world, she thought. How absurd! Those scientists must be as soulless as the robots they thought we should send. And as lacking in imagination....
    Against the dark cave entrance the sky was a luminous lavender. Below it an intersecting network of small crevasses was proving difficult to sketch. She had already blocked in some weird formations of twisted lava that formed the foreground.
    To the east, against the slope of the volcano, a pale plume rose. She glanced at the watch built into the sleeve of her silvered suit. Surely it was too early for the rover? Yes, of course it was. The angle of sunlight was telling her that it was only early afternoon. And surely, anyway, that plume was too white to be dust?
    Intrigued, she got up and, in an astronaut’s slow-motion steps, picked her way across the rugged ground to where the haze was still visible, over a kilometer away. By the time she was within a few meters from the spot her pulse was racing. From a deep pit surrounded by a rough cone of tumbled lava, a nebulous mist rose, dissipating quickly in the thin air.
    Aurora tongued her radio-mike on. “Pryor to Base. Pryor to Base? I think I have an anomaly here.”
    â€œAnomaly!” The unemotional language of science.
    â€œRoger, Pryor, Base here—Vitali speaking. What do you have, Anne?”
    She was glad that it was Vitali Orlov who was on duty, as she had formed quite a friendship with the bluff but genial Russian engineer. Of course, like the rest of the team she was grateful to him, too, for having got them down to the surface safely: he had been the pilot of the conical Lander. A genuine democracy existed among the crew, since each was an expert in at least two fields, and took his or her responsibility to the rest very seriously, but Orlov was nominally in command of the landing party, having seniority because of his much greater experience of space travel. He had helped build and had served in the International Space Station, and had flown many Soyuz flights to and from that.
    â€œI suggest that you get some of the geology team out here, a.s.a.p., Vitali. I’ve got some sort of activity coming from what looks like a hornito.”
    â€œActivity? Have you got your water-bottle filled with vodka—or is it bourbon?”
    â€œIf it wasn’t full of water, which it is, it would be a good single malt whisky! No, listen, I’m quite sober, and dead serious. Now move your ass and get someone out here right away with instruments and cameras—especially video.”
    There was a beep and a second voice broke in: “Rover 1 here, Claude speaking. We’re already on our way over in your direction, Anne. Our seismometers picked up a small quake—only about two on the Richter Scale—about an hour ago, but we hadn’t been able to pinpoint it. So, thanks for your input; you can go back to your daubing now!”
    â€œAnne here. You have to be joking! I’m not about to miss this, rest day or not!”
    Twenty minutes later the rover appeared over a low scarp, bouncing across the uneven lava on its metal-mesh “tires”. But, by the time it had drawn up and its own dust cloud had dispersed, the white mist had disappeared apart from a few fitful puffs. The funnel-like walls of the little cone were crusted with a rime of ice crystals, glittering like tiny diamonds.
    French geologist