Onward to Mars!

It’s probably about time that I revealed the purpose of this blog, and to introduce myself, as well. My name is Richard Tongue, and I’m a science-fiction writer, primarily known for the ‘Battlecruiser Alamo’ series. While I’ve always tried to give at least a grounding of reality in my work, I’ll be the first to admit that my military science-fiction is ‘space opera’, though heavily inspired by the universe we are slowly coming to understand. This blog is intended for something a little bit different – though still science-fiction.

I’m a space nut. That’s probably obvious from my chosen profession, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by the idea of pushing out into space – I grew up reading science-fiction that promised Mars missions, bases on the Moon, the works of Arthur C. Clarke and Robert Heinlein, and to the ten-year-old I once was, it all seemed so real, as though I could reach out and touch it. And naturally enough, I dreamed of going myself, though I suspect that is one dream that will never come to pass. Especially as, since I was born thirty-five years ago, no human has left Low Earth Orbit, though I rather home that will change in the near future. I want to watch someone take those first steps onto Martian soil, darn it!

As you can imagine, I’ve read countless books, fiction and non-fiction, on the first voyages to Mars, watching as our understanding of life on the Red Planet slowly changed. And frankly, I want to play in the same sandbox. I’ve ventured into the endless depths of space as far as Andromeda, but it’s time for me to do something a little closer to home. Or to put it another way, I choose to commit myself, before next year is out, to write a trilogy of novels based around the first manned missions to Mars.

Importantly, I don’t want to make anything up. I’m a very lazy man, and there are all these books around about what Mars is really like, about how missions will go. I said I was a space nut, and I have the library to prove it. (Heck – I’ve been working on and off on a history of the Soviet Space Program for years. I might actually get around to writing it someday. And I did write ‘One False Step’, a history of spaceflights that never were…) It’s time that I made good use of those laden shelves, and did it to write what will be as close as possible to an outline of what such a mission would be like. I’ve got a lot of homework to do, but I want it to feel real – to feel as though it could happen. (Or it already happened – and it could have, as well...what happened to Mars by 1982?)

So, that’s the focus of this blog. I’m not going to go into detail on any story elements, because I detest the idea of giving away too much, but I do intend to talk about, well, planning a mission to Mars. Even more – planning an entire program of manned Martian exploration, because that’s what I’m going to have to do if I’m going to make this trilogy truly work. I don’t want any handwaved science – I want to get it right. Perhaps the best way of putting it is that my approach is the same as one would employ while writing a historical novel. If I was writing a book set in, say Tudor England, I’d hardly want to start by making up my list of monarchs, and reading a single short history and calling it good. I’d do my homework, work on how the people actually lived, what was going on, that sort of thing. A thousand different details.

I have my textbooks, I have access to a lot of periodicals – and the NASA Document Archive, which is a fantastic online resource that should really be used by everyone interested in this field. They’ve done so much work on digitizing their records, and it seems churlish in the extreme to resist taking full advantage of it. I suppose I could say that I wanted to write the definitive ‘Mars expedition’ novel, but I think someone has beaten me too it…but never mind. There’s always room for another one!

I’m also going to talk about my inspirations. You can look forward to my defence of ‘Conquest of Space’ for example. I still think that movie holds up today. Lately, if it’s been set on Mars and looked even remotely realistic, I’ve been watching it, so a series of reviews of ‘Mars’ movies is probably coming up. (Though I have yet to watch the recent Mars series, embarrassingly enough – the blu-ray has been sitting next to my player for ages.) So, as well as my semi-incoherent discussions about how to get to Mars, I’ll be doing film and book reviews as well – fiction and non-fiction. I might go further, as well – I named the blog ‘Beyond Earth Orbit’ to cover myself against future explorations beyond Mars, to the Asteroids, to Titan, and so on, but that’s for the future.

For now, as Freidrich Tsander, Soviet rocket pioneer said, “Onward to Mars!”

Tomorrow...

For fifty years, Viking 2 had lain dormant on the surface of Mars, its mission completed, a wealth of scientific data harvested for the benefit of a generation of planetary scientists on Earth. And yet, for every question Viking had answered, it yielded a dozen more, the subject of later unmanned missions. Another is approaching, and dust rolls over the landscape as a second lander makes its way to the surface, carefully guided to come within sight of the venerable probe, while ensuring that no damage will come to it.

The comparison between the two vehicles is stark. Viking 2 was the finest piece of technology that could be constructed in its day, but several generations of spaceship design have come and gone since then, and the ‘Bughouse’, technically Precursor One, looks very different, even though it is accomplishing a similar task – a detailed survey of the local terrain. As soon as the dust settles, solar cells roll out across the soil, and the antenna at its top swings around to lock onto Earth.

Protective panels fall away, hinged at the bottom to provide a quintet of ramps, allowing the ‘Bugs’ to emerge. Sojourner-class rovers, less than ten centimetres in length, begin their journey across the landscape. Four of them begin their primary mission, choosing sites on a very different criteria than the normal. Whereas usually the operators would be seeking sites of maximum interest, they are instead looking for areas of the least interest. Flat and smooth spots, with no sites that might present a danger. The fifth, operated at long range by a man not yet born when Viking launched, drives up to the probe, its camera running across the lines of the veteran lander.

Tomorrow, one of the pictures it takes will be on the front page of every major newspaper on Earth.

Within a week, the primary mission of the probes has been completed, and three of them return to the Bughouse, climbing back into their tiny hangars, detailed telemetry being fed back to Earth to determine which should stay in storage. The two in worst condition have remained on the surface. This time, the geologists have their say, and they begin to roam across the region, taking photographs and readings of sites of special interest, mostly following up on those shots taken by Viking, so long ago.

One of them dies in the first week, misfortune trapping it behind a rock, in sufficient shade that its solar cells cannot charge its batteries. There is a back-up design in the event of solar cell failure, a ‘docking station’ that would allow it to recharge from the Bughouse, but that trapped wheel has pinned it in place. No problem; it will still be of some use, later one. The second survives for three months, before suffering a similar fate, a careless moment sending it tipping onto its side, unable to right itself. Mission Control soon puts it to sleep.

And so it rests, for another two years.

Then, one morning, something changes. One of the stored probe awakens from its long slumber, and rolls out onto the desert once more, heading for one of the sites of no geologic interest identified during the first period of exploration. A tall antenna rises from its back, and a beacon begins to transmit. An hour later, a shadow falls across the desert floor as another lander makes its descent, far larger than even the Bughouse. This is Icarus, and it is the first vehicle to land on Mars with an airlock.

As the lander settles on the surface, the airlock cracks open, a ladder descending to the dust, and a pair of suited figures step out. One of them takes the short walk to the two stranded rovers, putting them back on their wheels. The first will simply need to recharge; the second will require work, but that’s one of his first duties when they get settled in. They’ll have plenty of time – more than a year on the surface before the window of their return to Earth.

The other astronaut walks over to Viking, looks at the lander, a smile on his face, and pats one of the support struts as though petting a dog.

“Hello, old friend,” he says. “Sorry we took so long.”

It is November 7th, 2031, and the greatest adventure in human history is about to begin...