"How's the picture now?" Jamie Collins was asking the question of Stephan Casahara. He was displeased with the image the Viking lander was transmitting back to Earth.
"Not too readable. Mostly static as you can see, but it's of no use to me," Steph replied. He didn't relish the idea of driving blindfolded.
"It's picking up a lot of interference from the Martian atmosphere, but I can fine-tune it from here." Jamie was frantically hacking away at his keyboard.
The snowy picture was being received live from Viking which had touched down on Mars just an hour ago. The reception wasn't satisfactory, and the crew at NASA Mission Control was getting frustrated.
"O.K., that's a little bit better. But there's still this band of colour mid-screen."
Jamie tapped the keys of his terminal, running diagnostics and adjustments on the lander. It would take almost eight minutes for the signals to reach the lander and for the adjustments to be made. They would have to wait.
Mission leader Will French drank his eighth cup of coffee since the orbital approach. This was more frustrating to him than to his remote pilot, Casahara. He put his mug down on the monitor and patted Steph on the back. "Not to worry. We got her this far. We'll soon be able to have a quick look around, and then we can let Viking go on her own, running the scan and collection program. Just relax and drive around a bit." Anything to ease the stress lingering in the noisy control room.
Everywhere men and women were busy monitoring instruments aboard Viking, monitoring satellite direction and communication channels, checking gear, and the like. Will remembered the title he had given everyone involved in this mission: Remote Control Astronauts. People who would never meet the physical requirements to actually travel in space could go further and do more than the real article. Viking was on Mars, and compared to that, the moon walk was just a stroll across the street.
"Yeah, O.K., but I don't want to drive her off a cliff or anything. If I can't see, I don't want to stray too far from the landing site." Steph wiggled the control stick just a tad and waited for the reaction on the monitor. It came, eventually, and he programmed a path for Viking to take over relatively safe ground until the reception cleared up.
The path was fairly visible through the signal noise, with no major obstacles or crevices in the way. Steph started the drive motors and punched in the course. It arrived at Viking and then, minutes later, the picture began to move. Some cheering began when Viking lurched forward on her first "steps", but it was unenthusiastic since the view was so poor. It was like driving in a pink snowstorm.
The lander was Earth's first sincere hope of finding life elsewhere in the universe. Even a microbe, or an amoeba, or any Martin equivalent would confirm that we are not alone. Perhaps something would be found in the soil samples, or maybe something would be visible to the scanners and sensors. It would be highly unlikely that they would be able to see anything on the screen. Will French was proud, despite the glitches. He had helped establish America's superiority over the Soviets in space exploration, after the Russians' early lead in the sixties. Since then, the Russians had announced no major breakthroughs. This problem with Viking's eyes was a minor annoyance in relationship to the magnitude of the achievement of actually landing on Mars.
"I'm still getting tremendous interference, sir," Jamie said after more adjustment.
"I can see the ground, at least," Steph said. "That should do for this first sortie. Keep on it, Jamie."
The lander moved forward on its treads, rolling over small rocks, and the tilting horizon line was perceptible from the broken-up picture on-screen. A dark form appeared, and Steph veered away. Boulder. He noted the coordinates so he could return later and check underneath the rock for moisture, and maybe, just maybe....
After a few minutes, the programmed trip had ended, and Steph was preparing another short sortie program. He rotated Viking ninety degrees and guessed at the terrain. Viking reared forward again, along its destined path. There were several large objects just to the right and left of the viewer, none of which interfered with the lander's progress. After almost a hundred agonizingly slow yards of straight travel, something snagged on Viking, causing it to stop. A procedure in Steph's course program caused the lander to stop and wait for instructions should the Viking hit an object. The view screen was suddenly very red. Through the snow, the horizon was no longer visible. The screen cleared for a second, from time to time, but for the most part all that could be seen was red. Blood red.
"Jamie, help!" Steph cried in desperation. Jamie was already busy trying to correct the malfunction.
Everyone in Mission Control was hurriedly trying to make adjustments to see what was going on. Will even resorted to fine-tuning the display monitor. As the seconds dragged into minutes, it became clear that the red colouring on the screen wasn't bad reception.
"Will, do you see the flashes of light every few seconds? I can see the horizon, and perhaps a boulder."
Will peered into the Sony. "I can see that too. It looks like the red is fluttering. What's the wind speed?"
The weather monitor piped up. "Seven knots, sir."
"My God, it's flapping." Will could clearly see that something was covering Viking's camera lens, and that it was flapping in the strong breeze.
"Clearing!" Jamie cried, as one of his fix programs reached Viking.
The red became more visible, and the horizon, when it appeared, was clearer. One of the large objects Viking had just passed showed itself behind the flapping. It was covered in fine pink dust. Martian dirt. The sand was blowing up a slight storm, which was visible, but only as a haze on the monitors. Then a yellow blur appeared, as Steph nudged the joystick. It was a part of the object obscuring Viking's view.
"I'm pulling back," Steph said. "I"m hoping to free the lens." Viking jerked backwards about a foot, after several minutes of waiting, and the red was no longer on the camera itself. It was now in front of Viking, flapping away.
"Is that a yellow patch?" Will asked.
Steph confirmed it. "But I can't make out its shape. It's almost circular. What is it?"
Even supposition wasn't forthcoming from the NASA crew. Nobody in the room had expected anything out of the ordinary, and this had everyone dumbfounded. It was still hard to tell, and the static hadn't fully cleared, but it was definitely red, with a small yellow patch in the upper corner, and it was fluttering.
"Yes!" Jamie yelled as he hit the Transmit key for his final adjustment. "This will work, guaranteed!" He waited anxiously for the repair signal to reach Mars.
Steph zoomed in on the yellow patch, which began to take on a shape. It was roughly circular, with a bar through it.
Then, seconds later, the picture cleared. Jamie had managed to switch transmission frequencies, reducing the atmospheric interference, and the static caused by it.
The room fell silent. People just stared. Steph took his hands off the control stick. Jamie said nothing.
Will remained standing, too stunned to even fall into his chair. Already he knew what the cover-up operation would do. Data would be classified instantly, and reports would be released to the press that the mission went without incident, with no signs of life. There would be some very interesting rock samples. The public would have a renewed enthusiasm for the space program, and new and exciting projects would be approved, perhaps even the new Space Shuttle idea would be pushed forward. But Will was certain, as was everyone in the control room, that the public would never see the footage he was now seeing as the blurry image from the Viking cleared, and the yellow patch resolved itself into the familiar shape of a hammer and sickle.
All content of these pages © Sean Huxter.
|
|