The lower deck also featured an enclosure surrounded by the bulk of their food reserves. This pantry, which contained whole food for three years, also did double-duty by serving as the crew's shelter in the event of solar flares.
The work done, Townsend radioed a general recall and watched as his suited crew trooped back to the Hab, tired but in high spirits. Soon they would all be celebrating, perhaps passing around a tiny airline bottle of cognac and making mawkish toasts. For the moment, at least, their differences had been forgotten. The five shared the bonded friendship of climbers at the peak of Mount Everest or veterans of the same combat unit. Physical labor, done as a team, had brought them back together. That was a relief. But how long would the good morale last?
Morale was everything. As a former combat officer, Townsend knew that with high morale, everything was possible; without it, nothing was possible. Napoleon had put it well. "In war, morale is to materiel as ten is to one."
The NASA mission planners had shown a poor appreciation of that fact when they'd chosen an awkward Opposition-class trajectory for the outbound leg of the mission. As a result of that decision, the crew had been cooped up for ten months as the ship looped into the inner solar system on a Venus flyby in order to reach Mars the long way. That had been done so they could get to Mars in time for the November mission-abort launch window back to Earth.
But they would not need to abort, and if the mission hadn't been designed around that excessive safety option, the Beagle could have taken a direct trajectory that would have launched in December 2011 and gotten them to Mars the following June. That would have subjected the crew to only six months outbound in the can, and still given them fourteen months to explore Mars before the July 2013 return launch window.
As things stood, the crew was already a bit frayed with cabin fever. Personality clashes they had all easily concealed from the NASA shrinks during the selection process were now coming to the fore, and under the stress of the mission, would almost certainly grow worse. Townsend knew his most critical job was to hold the team together. But could he? Barring an abort before the end of November, they would be here for another twenty months.
A very long time.
CHAPTER 5
OPHIR PLANUM
NOV. 7, 2011 08:50 MLT
THE CREW GATHERED in the galley of the HAB, bent over a map spread out on the table as they studied the surrounding regions of Mars. Rebecca had spent years poring over such maps back on Earth, studying orbital photographs. Now she pondered the significance of color changes, fluvial features, apparent layers of sediment. Soon she would know what it all meant.
Townsend began the meeting. "Ladies and gentlemen, now that our initial base preparations and local survey are complete, we can begin to explore. The question is, where?"
Rebecca glanced at Luke Johnson. The geologist had no idea what the real questions were, and his priorities would be all wrong. She decided to take charge immediately. "The key places to search are these biologically interesting dry riverbeds and paleolakes. It's virtually certain that they date back to the age when Mars had liquid water sculpting its terrain and providing the medium for prebiotic chemistry."
Townsend regarded her curiously. "Prebiotic chemistry here, Dr. Sherman?"
"Yes, certainly," she answered quickly. It was clear Townsend didn't understand. To him Mars was obviously too barren to support life. Without a scientific background, he looks around and only sees the present. The past is invisible to him. She decided to take the time to explain. "You see, sir, Mars is cold and dry now—but it was once a warm and wet planet, a place friendly to life. It remained that way for a period of time, considerably longer than it took for life to evolve on Earth. Current theories hold that the evolution of life from nonliving matter is a natural process that occurs with high probability whenever and wherever conditions are favorable. What could be more favorable than a river or a lake? I say we start poking in riverbeds and the remnants of the nearest local lakes."
Townsend nodded, considering, but the Texan geologist was finally up to speed. "Ah'll have to disagree." He smiled unpleasantly. "That simply can't be our initial priority. With all due respect to our beautiful ship's surgeon, it's plain as day that there is no life here and never was. As far as ah'm concerned, the unmanned Viking landers proved that over thirty years ago. If this mission is going to accomplish any serious science, right from the outset, we need to thoroughly examine the geologically significant igneous and metamorphic rock deposits in the areas of uplifted terrain. The rocks in those highlands come from the interior. They'll tell us what makes this planet tick."
Rebecca groaned inwardly. It was bad enough that Luke was a chauvinistic jackass, but did he have to be an idiot too?
"That's ridiculous. We didn't come this far just to go rock collecting," she retorted. "The central scientific question concerning Mars is and has always been the possibility of life here, past or present. The place to look for life is where there is or was water, and that means those low-lying sedimentary beds."
"I beg your pardon." Luke's look was so patronizing it made her sick. "But at the scientific meetings that I have attended regularly for the past decade, the question of life on Mars has been rarely, if ever, discussed."
Rebecca's temper rose. "Well, I'm sure the scientific meetings you've attended for the past decade have rarely, if ever, included real scientists." Luke Johnson had never published a single refereed paper in any authentic journals. As far as she could see, what he called "scientific meetings" were probably little more than stag parties for the oil exploration industry.
"Excuse me, Dr. Sherman, but my Ph.D. is as good as yours."
That was laughable. "Right," she giggled, "from Texas A&M."
Rebecca had gone to Radcliffe and Cornell, places where the state universities are held in modest esteem. Actually, she had found the graduates of the state universities to be no worse scientists than those from the Ivy League, but she knew Luke had a bit of an inferiority complex on that score, so she decided to rub it in. The giggling was a good touch too. Gets to you, doesn't it, Luke?
Gwen broke into the brawl. "There never was life on Mars." Everyone turned to look at her.
Don't get involved in this Gwen, Rebecca thought. I don't really want to crush you. Why do you have to shove your nose into business of which you have no understanding? If you can't be on my side, why can't you just stick to your machines? The flight engineer stared at her hostilely. Oh, well, since you insist...
"Oh," said Rebecca, "and how would you know that?" This was going to be wild. Gwen had almost no scientific background at all.
"The Earth is the only planet with life on it," said Gwen. "It says so in the Bible—or didn't you read that at Radcliffe?"
The Bible! It's been four centuries since Kepler; we're on Mars, for crying out loud, and they're still throwing that crap at us! "That does it!" Rebecca exploded. "That's the limit! Colonel Townsend, I am the chief science officer on this expedition, and I insist that our science agenda be dictated by me and not by some redneck oilfield prospector or a Bible-thumping hillbilly mechanic. I—"
Townsend made a chopping motion with his right arm. "Dr. Sherman, that will be all. Since you scientists cannot agree on an agenda, I have decided that the first rover sortie will be a photo reconnaissance conducted by Major Llewellyn and Professor McGee. Major, you'll be in command." He ran his finger along the map. "Take the rover along this ridge. That'll bring you above the cliff faces and within sight of the big canyon. Try to get some nice pictures for the folks back home, McGee."