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(This was also publicly posted in a Rainbow Universe > Rainbow Room BB > posting by my friend Carol.)
The one bit of background knowledge you need to know: Percival Lowell was an amateur astronomer committed to the idea of finding intelligent life on Mars. (He wasn't a crackpot. He made substantial contributions to the field of astronomy. But he didn't have today's super-high powered equipment.) He interpreted the light and dark splotches he could observe on the surface of Mars through his telescope as canals and oases, evidence for intelligent life.
(The other one tidbit that might help is that Elysium Planitia is a real place on Mars.)
Mars Rover VI had successfully navigated out of the small crater it had landed in, ending a tension filled three hours in the mission control room at JPL. Mission Director Bob Eisenberg, and his mission team, breathed a collective sigh of relief as the pictures arriving on the Mars-Earth uplink confirmed their precious probe had crested the rim. Other than the bad bit of luck that had brought the lander to rest at the bottom of the crater, the entry and landing had been near picture-perfect. Only one small ridge remained between their rover and the shiny spherical formation the expedition was intent on exploring. That unexpected circle of reflection had been spotted by the Mars Geology Surveyor during its extended mission. Data from subsequent passes had confirmed the formation was predominately glass, but the detection of water vapor had moved the region to the top of the "must visit soonest" list. The presence of water in a region apparently still geologically active pushed aside all other survey priorities. MR-6 was redirected and reprogrammed en route, a risk deemed justified at all levels of the NASA/JPL hierarchy.
Dr. Sandra White, Principle Mission Geologist, certainly shared that assessment. Sandra (only Bob called her "Sandy") sat at the table next to her boss, reviewing the incoming data on an old CRT that filled the table it occupied. She would have much preferred the main display at the center station, but Bob has his nose practically against the screen and wasn't budging - RHIP. But she did have the freedom to scroll back and forth through the images at will, not entirely a bad tradeoff.
The rover's trip down the other side of the rim and up the neighboring ridge was agonizingly slow and uneventful. The break in the pace after the crater escape allowed her to post-process many of the image frames that had arrived, bringing out extra detail that she now had time to review.
"Bob."
The voice was Sandra's. It held a note of puzzlement. There was no answer.
"Bob!"
Some urgency had begun to creep in.
"Huh? What is it, Sandy?" Bob finally acknowledged.
"Frame 28109, quadrant IV. You need to take a look."
"What? It's too early to see the formation yet. Found something?"
"Just look at 2-8-1-0-9. Upper right. Then you tell me."
Bob hit RECALL and paged back to the picture in question.
What's this about? There, 28-109. Let's see, upper right...
"Holy Shit! What's that?"
"Dunno for sure. Doesn't look natural. If that's a rock, then I have one in my head. It sorta looks like -- naw, must be the angle. but we need to take a closer look. Before we're by it."
"Sandy," Bob began in his lecture tone, "we can't replace navigation now, not mid-roll. Uplink alone takes twenty minutes and I'm not about to jeopardize our primary objective. Too risky. I won't allow it."
"But-"
"No buts. Or rather, it's my butt, and I'm covering it. So, no. Period. No detours. We can explore targets of opportunity on the back leg."
The geologist looked back at her screen, seeking inspiration.
"Don't need to change navigation," she said, "all we need is an H4-PAZ."
H4-PAZ was the mission code for a pre-sequenced "halt-for-pan-and-zoom" subroutine that had been included for just such contingencies. Eisenberg didn't look convinced.
"Still a risk."
"Robert, that is not a rock. I don't know what it is yet, but it sure as hell ain't no goddamn rock. H4-PAZ, Bob, or get yourself a new geologist."
"I don't take kindly to threats."
"I don't threaten kindly."
The room was silent.
"Okay, Dr. White, we pan-n-zoom. And it'd better be fucking revolutionary, or you're out of a job."
"Agreed."
As the necessary control sequence was prepared and sent, the Sandra reviewed and re-reviewed the frame on her screen. She had just made a career limiting move, betting on all or nothing. But the pixels in frame 28109 couldn't be natural. Couldn't be.
The next 42 minutes were the longest she had ever known. The rover obediently stopped its climb and executed the H4-PAZ. As frame after frame of the surroundings arrived, everyone in mission control scrutinized the main monitor. Inevitably, as each picture proved not to be the hoped for transmission, Sandra found herself being scrutinized as well. Anxiety became anger. And then anger was forgotten.
Frame 29699 was electric. The few pixels from before were now a clear image, an object that couldn't possibly be there, but was. It was a sign. Two grey boards sat at the head of a stack, hanging at a slight angle. The lettering was in white, rough, and hand-painted. it read: "NO BOYS ALLOWED - GIRLZ ONLY!!". Total silence returned.
'What kind of practical joke is this!" Bob exclaimed, "Get me a signal trace, and get me that trace now! And a systems check."
In the hubbub that followed, the consensus eventually emerged that the data were real: the signal was actually from Mars, not faked. Impossible to believe, impossible to ignore. Sandra continued to study the frames.
"Bob. Look here. At the base. Tracks."
"Sure, why not? Would they happen to be rabbit tracks, perhaps? A white rabbit, with a pocket watch?" he asked.
"You know what that means?" she insisted.
"We follow the tracks?"
"We follow the tracks."
The next 18 hours were spent revamping the navigation software. Sleep was forgotten. The entire staff was called in. The quantity of coffee consumed salvaged the quarterly profits of the local StarBucks outlet. The next morning found everyone at their stations, tired, but too excited to notice.
The rover was sent back on the trail. As it reached the plain, the glass formation came fully into view. It was the destination, or the origin rather, of the footprints. The glass formed a perfectly symmetrical dome. It was artificial, clearly artificial. The rover approached on as direct a route as the terrain permitted. Every five minutes it stopped to send a new picture of its target, dead ahead.
"Bob."
Sandra's voice again. Bob was beginning to dread her voice.
"Yes? Which frame?"
"The latest, 32526."
"Hmmm. I see it. A door, to an airlock I would guess. On the left, right?"
"Right. I mean, correct."
"Okay, let's get a close up."
"And Bob..."
"Jesus H. Christ."
He had sworn, but it had more the sound of a prayer.
"I think there's a sign on that door."
There was. 90 minutes later, when frame 35988 arrived, the silence was absolute. The sign said:
and underneath, a smaller sign read:
The silence was broken by Sandra's laughter, rising and unstoppable.
Forcing her words out in gasps, she said "Percy was wrong. They weren't canals, they were dykes!"
© 1997-2005 Roland F. McKenney
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