Claude Verdet was the first to give his opinion. His choice as a crew member had been a masterpiece of political diplomacy. To be sure, France had a big stake in the mission, but so had Germany, and the Germans had provided much of its ground support. Claude, although French, had been on attachment via ESA to the Sänger company in Germany for some years, and was thought of as part of their establishment. In addition, he was of Creole ancestry and black enough to satisfy the vociferous organizations on Earth who insisted on the inclusion of minorities in just about every undertaking. Such political considerations might have had to be overruled on the Mars mission, where everyoneâs lives might at any moment depend on one or other individual crew-member; fortunately Verdet would have been the natural choice anyway.
Aurora grinned wryly. Up here on Mars such concerns as race, nationality and skin-color seemed a very long way awayâwhich of course in a very literal sense was true. Distance made them seem even more ludicrous than they already were, which took some doing. The luckyâpolitically speakingâcoincidence of Verdetâs blackness had never crossed her mind until heâd mentioned it himself.
âThe way I see it,â he was saying, âa slab of rock down below gave way under stress, and allowed an underground cache of ice to come into contact with a heat source. Maybe radioactivityâcould be it even released a pocket of magma. The ice flashed into steamâ et voilà !â
As usual, not everyone agreed, and the discussion became heated, turned into an argument that continued on through the afternoon. The most exciting aspect of the discovery of this heat source, and underground water, was the possibility of life âtheir main reason for being on Mars, after all. So far only microscopic worm-like fossils, similar to those found on the meteorite on Earth, had been discovered, and these were certainly not the sort of conclusive evidence theyâd been hoping for.
What was needed was proof of indigenous Martian life, preferably still alive! As Viking had discovered, the surface of Mars, its regolith, had been thoroughly sterilized by the presence of peroxides. But the discovery, also in the late 1970s, that weird forms of life thrive in the absence of sunlight and oxygen around sulfurous undersea volcanic vents called black smokers had expanded the parameters considerably. Life exists in rocks a kilometer under Earthâs surface, and can lie dormant for up to 40,000 years until water arrives to reactivate it. Indeed, Earth has a greater amount of biomass beneath than on the surface. So hope was still high that some form of life would be found on or beneath Mars.
Naturally, Aurora played a full part in the debate, and did no more sketching that day.
As the Sun sank, the crew-members piled into the cylindrical rover and drove back towards their base.
The going was tricky, especially in the low sunlight, which cast long, slanting violetâblack shadows. The slightest depression looked like a deep crater. Hayashi Minako switched on the powerful headlight as she edged her way cautiously along a ledge formed by a lava tube, her rather pudgy face, framed by dark hair, intent as she concentrated on driving, peering through the Plexiglas bubble of the cabin.
Suddenly, with no warning apart from a crunching sound heard through the chassis of the vehicle, the roof of the tube beneath them collapsed. The rover teetered along for a few meters at an alarming angle, then rolled over completely. It clanged against scattered boulders, overturned again and came to rest on its side in soft dust.
The crew picked themselves up.
âIs everyone OK?â asked Verdet.
There were cries of âI think soâ and âJust bruises, I guess.â
Then they became aware of the fact that Aurora lay deathly pale. The right sleeve of her spacesuit had been ripped open on a buckled and
Aurora grinned wryly. Up here on Mars such concerns as race, nationality and skin-color seemed a very long way awayâwhich of course in a very literal sense was true. Distance made them seem even more ludicrous than they already were, which took some doing. The luckyâpolitically speakingâcoincidence of Verdetâs blackness had never crossed her mind until heâd mentioned it himself.
âThe way I see it,â he was saying, âa slab of rock down below gave way under stress, and allowed an underground cache of ice to come into contact with a heat source. Maybe radioactivityâcould be it even released a pocket of magma. The ice flashed into steamâ et voilà !â
As usual, not everyone agreed, and the discussion became heated, turned into an argument that continued on through the afternoon. The most exciting aspect of the discovery of this heat source, and underground water, was the possibility of life âtheir main reason for being on Mars, after all. So far only microscopic worm-like fossils, similar to those found on the meteorite on Earth, had been discovered, and these were certainly not the sort of conclusive evidence theyâd been hoping for.
What was needed was proof of indigenous Martian life, preferably still alive! As Viking had discovered, the surface of Mars, its regolith, had been thoroughly sterilized by the presence of peroxides. But the discovery, also in the late 1970s, that weird forms of life thrive in the absence of sunlight and oxygen around sulfurous undersea volcanic vents called black smokers had expanded the parameters considerably. Life exists in rocks a kilometer under Earthâs surface, and can lie dormant for up to 40,000 years until water arrives to reactivate it. Indeed, Earth has a greater amount of biomass beneath than on the surface. So hope was still high that some form of life would be found on or beneath Mars.
Naturally, Aurora played a full part in the debate, and did no more sketching that day.
As the Sun sank, the crew-members piled into the cylindrical rover and drove back towards their base.
The going was tricky, especially in the low sunlight, which cast long, slanting violetâblack shadows. The slightest depression looked like a deep crater. Hayashi Minako switched on the powerful headlight as she edged her way cautiously along a ledge formed by a lava tube, her rather pudgy face, framed by dark hair, intent as she concentrated on driving, peering through the Plexiglas bubble of the cabin.
Suddenly, with no warning apart from a crunching sound heard through the chassis of the vehicle, the roof of the tube beneath them collapsed. The rover teetered along for a few meters at an alarming angle, then rolled over completely. It clanged against scattered boulders, overturned again and came to rest on its side in soft dust.
The crew picked themselves up.
âIs everyone OK?â asked Verdet.
There were cries of âI think soâ and âJust bruises, I guess.â
Then they became aware of the fact that Aurora lay deathly pale. The right sleeve of her spacesuit had been ripped open on a buckled and
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