Mission Failure

by Joshua Allen

Marty poked at the ship's control console in front of him

and shook his head. He wasn't going to accept death so easily,

no matter what the two eggheads said.

Althea sighed and shook her head. She sighed again. Marty

wished she would stop. He considered killing her. It would be a

crime no one would ever convict him of. They might not ever even

know. And if they did, so what? He was fifty million kilometers

from home. He was beyond reproach.

Andy on the other hand, was being quiet. That bothered

Marty, too. Andy was quiet when he was thinking. And when he was

thinking, his thoughts were usually bad. The man composed

thought like a praying mantis snapping its arms: lots of slow

buildup where you could hardly detect anything was happening,

then bam! The strikes were deadly. Marty jabbed the dead panel

again, the flicked a few switches for good measure. Through the

tiny navigation portal, the Red Planet loomed, more than filling

the scope.

"So we can't return to Earth?" Marty asked. "There's no

way?"

"The ship will make it back just fine," Andy said.

 "We slingshot around Mars," Marty said, "speed it up and

get us home."

"To go as fast as we would need to go in the distance we

have would kill us. And that's the least of our problems." Andy

said.

Snap! Snap! The bug's life is over.

Marty wished he had something heavy and steel in his hand.

"Then I guess we just tell the ship to go home. Let the eggheads

back home analyze what went wrong. Fucken posterity." He was

mission commander, and he was used to his words being the end of

the conversation. "Keep it from happening on the next mission.

At least we won't have died in vain."

"You know as well as I do that there won't be a next

mission," Althea said.

Marty gave her the coldest look in his repertoire. In the

Navy he would have ripped a man's throat out for such

insubordination. He wouldn't have minded at least giving her a

punch right in the jaw. "Who gives a shit? Is that our

responsibility?"

Althea stood, sort of. They were at full speed, so none of

them had any weight, and the space they were in was extremely

tight. She stretched her arms up and struck the pose of someone

standing, though her feet were not contacting the ground. Now

the bitch was going to point at him? At him? "If we send this
ship back as a complete failure, that will be the death of the

mission. Senator Booth has been looking for a good reason to

kill this project from the beginning. Tell me I'm wrong. Is that

not why he sent you along?"

A sword or even the head of a nice heavy mace would feel

just right in Marty's hand. The whole mace if he could get it.

He tested the weight of the mace head in his hand, but of course

there was nothing. "This is exactly the bullshit Tom was talking

about. One little thing goes wrong and billions of dollars are

wasted," Marty said.

"But," Marty conceded, "that doesn't mean he would win.

He's one voice. We have a democracy down there." Marty really

wanted to go home. He wasn't scared. More like bored.

"A democracy that voted seven times to cancel the Mars

mission. But for the President's insistence, we wouldn't have

made it off of MIR III, let alone have the devices and

experiments we have, sorely lacking though we still are." Althea

was calming now, meaning Marty was calming, but slower. The

acceleration of his temper was slower than hers, and harder to

stop.

"We're going to die anyway," Andy said. His voice was weak.

He was bright red in the cheeks. He was a scientist, unused to

people like Marty, not cut out for power plays. And probably

hated Marty, like Althea did. Mart was a hard, military person
unimpressed with the science of the mission. Andy didn't usually

deal with people who had senators for brothers, who sent them

just to keep an eye on the operation. "There's no way around

that." Andy was staring down at his toes. "You, Althea Anderson.

Me, Andre Vasilikov. You, Martin Booth. All three of us will

die."

"Maybe you Russians give up, Andy, but Americans don't die

so easy," Marty said.

"I am Bulgarian. I have told you that a hundred times,"

Andy shot back. "And my name is Andre."

Marty's orders were clear. Any little thing goes wrong, and

he turns the ship around and goes back home. Orders from his

brother, Tom, head of oversight committee on interstellar

operations. Orders from the president himself. But something

little had not gone wrong, something big had. Marty had to admit

to himself that now, faced with it, he didn't give a shit about

Tom or the president's words. The truth was, as boring and

sciency as all this was. It was also damned exciting. How often

had he gotten to stare death in the face like this? His whole

life depended on having enough zeroes in a very complex equation

made up by some eggheads. This was the most exciting thing that

had happened to him in his entire military career.

Marty told Althea and Andy his standing orders. They hardly

seemed surprised.
 "The president was speaking out of political necessity. He

didn't believe that," Althea said.

"We don't have the oxygen, Marty," Andy said. "I respect

your position. I really do. But it changes nothing. We cannot

turn this ship around. If we could and we accelerated the other

way suddenly, the G forces would kill us. If they didn't,

there's another problem. The Earth will be in the wrong

position. Our trip is very carefully calculated to take a

certain amount of time so that when we finally do go back, we

will intercept Earth at a close point in its orbit. There is no

going back. It is impossible."

Marty clutched his hand. No longer thinking about the mace

in his hand. He was thinking of Tom now. Find a way to turn that

thing around, Marty. Any way. Tom had never been that good at

science. Neither had Marty. He chuckled at his brother's

naiveté."

Althea said, "We have insufficient oxygen and we've lost

power. Fine. We have a protocol for that. Same that's been in

place since Apollo 13, back in the twentieth. We go into the

lander and we kill electrical systems, which is what we've done.

The engine is already in deceleration mode for final approach.

The nukes will keep firing. They require almost no electricity

to work. The Sagan X will orbit Mars for two months, and then

the nukes will start blasting again and the ship will go on
home. No oxygen required for any of that. But somewhere about

three or four days from home, our oxygen will give out and we

die."

"And we can't radio the Earth too much without burning the

last of our electricity," Marty added. The console in front of

him was dark. The voltage in the batteries was shockingly low.

He remembered that when they had started out, the eggheads had

told him the batteries would still be a quarter power when he

got back. They said to reassure him. Now the dials were all

below a quarter. A couple of them were at zero. Only two of the

fifteen or so that were showing the main ship were strong, above

75%: the navigation computer and the electric spark for the

nuclear blast engines.

"I did the calculations. There is more than enough power

for the navigation computer to get the ship home," Andy said.

"So long as we leave the oxygen tanks on the main ship turned

off. They will drain the volts too quickly."

They were double fucked. If there was just one problem,

they'd be going back home. But the two problems compounded each

other. Marty glanced into the tiny reticule again. Fuck if Mars

wasn't beautiful at this distance. "Althea, speak your mind,"

Marty said.

"We land the lander. We take samples. We send the lander

back with our findings. We wait and watch the ship go on toward
home," Althea concluded. "That's the only way to salvage the

mission."

"They'll get what they need either way," Andy said.

"Regarding the accident, that is."

"Won't landing burn up electricity?" Marty asked.

"The lander has its own power and oxygen supplies. It's

nothing like what we need to power the rest of the ship, but it

is more than sufficient to complete the mission," Andy said.

"Even minus the little bit will we use to get the rest of the

way. It was budgeted high."

"Originally, I was to stay on the ship while you two did

your experiments," Marty said. He touched the reticule, then

looked at his copilots. They were very close to him. They

exchanged a look.

"That is still what we would do," Andy said. "To ensure

that the data we collect gets back to Earth."

"In order for me to stay up here, we would have to reboot

the computers and restart the main ship's oxygen. Correct?"

Andy groaned. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You can suit up. Use your suit's oxygen supply to stay

alive until we finish," Althea said.

"The suit has what, maybe an hour or two of oxygen. You

guys will have two to three times that much because you'll have

the lander's supply to draw from."

 "We can't all three go down," Andy said, "If that's what

you're asking."

"Why not?" Marty said. "The lander is designed to carry two

people and a whole lot of Martian soil and rock samples. Three

people down should be fine. We only need one of us to come back

up."

Althea sighed. "He's right. For that matter, the lander can

dock itself. We can lade the ship with as much rocks and samples

as will fit, up to the lander's upper weight limit."

Andy scratched his head. "I suppose this is true. If so, we

should take the remote with us. It will allow us to contact the

ship if we need to. It will allow us to steer the lander. Should

anything go wrong with docking, we can send orders to the ship

to collect the lander, assuming it at least makes it up into

space."

"Wait, wouldn't that ruin the mission? If we had to boot

the ship back on remotely?"

"If it comes to that," Althea said, "We tell the ship to

head toward Earth at half power. They already know, back on

Earth, that something has gone terribly wrong. Right now they

are probably watching us. They will continue watching us, as

much as they can, until the ship returns. If it has to go a

little slower, they'll know we are dead and they'll wait until

the ship is within range, and then collect it."

 "All right, so we go down. And I come with," Marty said.

"And since I'm coming with, and I'm a highly trained pilot, I

have one more bone to pick."

"This should be good," Althea said, and suddenly Marty

found himself doing the mental calculations telling him how much

easier this would all be with just two of them.

"Your landing spot is shit," Marty said.

This got a nice look of surprise from both Althea and Andy.

"There is no safer place, Marty," Andy said.

"We have landed seven ships in the valley and they all did

fine," Althea's hackles were up. Marty kind of liked it that way.

"Yeah, and they have been inconclusive to unsuccessful in

their searches for life. Am I right?"

"Yes," she said, guarded.

"And back in Texas, what did you say? That if we were going

to send a manned mission to Mars, then we had to get into the

river valleys. So, let's get into the river valleys."

Neither copilot spoke for a long time. Finally, Andy said,

"that will not be easy. You are not trained to land us there."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't trained to fly from within the lander

at all," Marty said.

"This is bullshit, Marty. You're endangering the mission

because of some bullshit machismo. We stick with the landing

spot we picked out. We know we can land it. We have to get the

best data we can, not play space cowboy."

Marty leaned forward, tossing the pretend mace head in his

hand a few times. With deliberate ease, he pointed at Althea.

"This is our only chance, Althea. This isn't a warm-up, not for

us. They snubbed you when you begged to land in a better spot. I

sat there and listened to your passion, and you want to know

something? You got me excited about this mission in the first

place. Truth be told, even now, even despite the boredom and the

fact that none of us are going to see the blue glow of Earth

again, I say we have two options. Either we shut the oxygen off

and just wait to die. Or we go all in."

"I am all in," Andy said. "Let us do it."

Althea scowled. "This is bullshit. We're going to crash,

and they we'll get nothing. None of it will matter. You're

killing us."

Marty smiled. He had an answer prepared for that. "You

can't kill what's already dead."

* * *

Marty stared up at the night sky. Andy hadn't moved in a

several minutes. Marty told himself that Andy was just

conserving energy, trying to draw it out. He looked at the box

near him and shook his head.

 A hundred million dollars to design a control box to cover

a single contingency, namely, the death of a crew member. They

could still complete the mission remotely. It had failed.

Above them, a shiny blob sat next to a much larger shiny

blob. The lander and the ship, separated by about a dozen

meters. The ship would head for home soon. Without the lander.

"We tried," Althea said. "The next mission that comes will

find it and--"

"Save your oxygen," Marty said.

He had landed the craft beautifully. Well, there had been a

little turbulence, but he had gotten her down safely. It

reminded him of the good old days, when flying was an adventure,

when the wonder and awe of it were so strong they threatened to

distract you and kill you. It had been exhilarating. They had

gotten the samples. And the samples had been not merely good,

but amazing. Althea's hands had been shaking so badly as she dug

into the red Martian soil and the ice below that he was worried

she was going to pass out.

Life on Mars. Small life, to be sure, but it was there.

Marty had been skeptical. It was so damn cold here. How could

anything be alive, let alone lively? But it wasn't lively,

really. It was dormant. It had dived deep into the moist soil

when the atmosphere had started to decay, and there it had

slept, waiting for that day when the conditions were acceptable

again.

"Mars must have had long winters, once. They adapted to

survive indefinitely in harsh conditions, but the last time they

went in the winter had come and stayed."

"The big sleep," Marty mused.

He had been awed by her experiments. Very slowly, they had

warmed the microbes, a few degrees Kelvin at a time, until the

little bastards woke up and began to eat.

"When I was a girl," Althea said into the radio, jerking

Marty out of his state of recollection, a state he realized was

threatening now to consume him and take him permanently into its

embrace. "I remember watching Carl Sagan talk on the TV. He was

so amazed and filled with awe. He was like a child in his

enthusiasm. It was infectious."

"Save your oxygen, Althea."

"No, I don't think that's necessary," she said. "Not at

all. I don't want to die sitting here trapped in my little

bubble, Marty."

She spread her arms. He nodded. Marty moved closer to her.

He couldn't feel her body through the mass of the suit, but he

could feel her presence next to him, and the weight of her arms

around him. To his surprise, Andy got up and sat on the other
side of her. The three of them held their awkward embrace,

encumbered by their suits.

"What happened Andy?" Marty asked. "Just tell me why it

didn't work."

"The radio is supposed to be able to wake up the ship's

radio from a dormant state. I guess the system failed."

"But the ship will still go back to Earth, right, Andy?"

Marty asked.

"Yes. It should," Andy said. His voice trembled. "My name

is Andre."

"Andre. I am sorry."

Andre made a slow whining noise. Marty lacked the energy to

do anything but watch his compatriot as he died.

"Just the two of us," Althea said. Under any other

circumstances, it might have seemed a cold-blooded thing to say,

but it sounded compassionate at that moment.

"You want to have a contest, see who can live the longest?"

Marty asked.

"I guess I'd like that," Althea said.

"You had Carl to get you excited about space, but you know

what got me excited about it? You did. You were so passionate."

"Really? I always worried I came off too bitchy."

"Maybe you did. Maybe that's what I liked about you."

 "Major, are you coming onto me?" she asked, laughing

despite it all.

"Well, I suppose there's no point in keeping it a secret

now." Marty realized his voice was shaking. He was very cold.

His suit's heat generator had probably failed. The suit wasn't

designed to be outside the lander for more than a few minutes at

a time, which is why Althea had wanted to land them on the banks

of the river to begin with.

"Space love. It's a bit like a summer romance. Of course, I

find it hard to believe that's not just the lack of oxygen

talking." Her voice quivered and broke. She was at the end,

Marty sensed.

"I never said I loved you. Let's take it one step at a

time. I haven't even met your mother."

Above, the bigger shiny blob started to move.

"Althea, what is it doing?"

No answer.

The bigger blob moved toward the smaller blob.

"Althea, are you seeing this? Althea!"

It was impossible to say for sure, but the ship seemed to

scoop up the lander. It might have just passed in front of it.

He could make out so little detail.

"Althea, I think it got he message. I think it's working."

 The ship moved away, now. There was a blast, and the ship

began to accelerate until it disappeared. Nothing was left where

the lander had been. It had either scooped up the smaller craft,

having finally received the message, or the nuclear blast of its

rockets had destroyed the lander.

Marty was smiling wide. "We did it," he said. "We did it."

Then he was sitting next to Althea, listening as she

expounded with passion the benefits and the challenge of landing

the lander near the rivers. She was so excited, so full of life.

Then he was flying. It was his first day of flight training in a

live ship. He knew he would never feel as good about being alive

again as he did in that moment. And then, further away now,

almost a pinpoint of light, were he and Tom, sitting on their

roof with their Dad, before cancer cut him down. The three of

them were looking at the moon in a telescope. Tom and Dad

explained to Marty what the moon was, how it formed, but all

Marty could think was how big of an adventure it would be to fly

to the moon and then just keep going. Who cared what it was made

of? The challenge was all that mattered. Then he couldn't see

little Tom and Martin anymore. Then he couldn't see his house.

Then he couldn't see the Earth. It all shrank away into a tiny

blue dot. Then even that was swallowed up in the vastness of

space.