The Enigma

As the power was cut, the high pitched scream of the drive motor slowly descended down the frequency scale to a more tolerable whine. A deep throated growl followed as the gear train tried to take up the strain of the backlash created by the momentum of the massive centrifuge arm and its heavy cupola trying to override the system.

The cupola contained one Gregory Stewart, an astronaut of some ten years experience and many flights up to the orbiting research station and launch platform which encircled the Earth on the very fringes of space itself.

The extremely high ‘G’ force which Greg had been subjected to gradually lessened as the centrifuge lost momentum, and his stomach tried to assume its natural position in his abdomen while his eyeballs returned to their normal near spherical shape.

 Hearing the sound of the cupola’s hatchway lock being released, Greg heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed, and as the door swung open a bright cheery face greeted him.

‘We gave you an extra ‘G’ that time, on the orders of the medical board, I’ll bet you didn’t even notice it, sir!’

‘Thanks a lot, pal,’ Greg replied sarcastically, ‘what’s an extra ‘G’ when you're flattened out like a bloody kipper in this thing?’

Despite the controlling effect of the pressure suit, he still felt the odd tingle as his blood supply tried to refill those parts which had been deprived of the life giving fluid for the past few minutes.

With his legs still feeling a bit shaky, he climbed down the metal ladder to the solid concrete floor of the centrifuge pit, helped by a somewhat contrite assistant who wondered exactly what it was that he had said or done wrong.

‘Well, you won’t have to go through that again for another six months, sir.’ the assistant said, desperately trying to re-establish some form of friendly communication.

‘You’re damned right I won’t.’ Greg growled, thankfully.

Holding his body as erect as possible to regain some degree of dignity, Greg wobbled his way towards the exit door in the side of the pit, wondering for the umpteenth time why he allowed his person to be subjected to such abuse, as he considered the extremely high ‘G’ forces he had to endure were far in excess of that which he would experience during his work to and from the space station.

He peeled off his ‘G’ suit, and hoped he would be able to meet the very exacting requirements of the medical board for some time to come, as he dreaded the thought of being earth bound, or at best, a desk job on the space station. He couldn’t envisage anything giving him the buzz that space work did, and was therefore determined to put off the inevitable day of retirement as long as possible, despite the dreaded six monthly torture of the centrifuge.

After a quick shower, and having changed into his white uniform with its glistening gold buttons as only worn by those deemed good enough to be astronauts, Greg made his way towards the canteen to join the other long standing four members of his team.

They would by now have completed their various medical tests, and be ready to partake of refreshments along with a general criticism of the medical board and renewed doubting of the parentage of the sadistic person or persons responsible for the centrifuge.

By the time he reached the canteen, his legs were functioning normally again, and the desperate thirst to replace lost sweat from his ordeal was foremost in his mind.

‘Hi Greg,’ one of them called out as he entered the room, ‘you might not have heard as you were in the whirly thing, but we’ve all been invited to the Director’s suite at eighteen hundred hours. As I’ve said all along, I’ll bet we’re going to be asked to apply for the Mars mission.’

‘That could be a mixed blessing,’ Greg replied, ‘if the rumours going around at the moment contain any truth.

‘Personally, I think they’re just scare stories put about by those who don’t stand a chance of going into space. A touch of the old ‘sour grapes’, if you ask me.’ And he downed a second litre glass of orange juice.

‘I don’t think there’s much more risk than our usual trips up to the space station,’ Paul, their blond haired navigator responded, ‘after all, they’re more concerned about their damned hardware than us, so they’ll not risk losing that!’

Later, during many cups of steaming hot coffee, the pros and cons of the proposed Mars trip were batted back and forth until all sensible arguments for and against the flight had been exhausted. In the end, the five man crew of the Earth to space station shuttle resorted to light hearted banter on the matter, until it was time for them to make their way up to the exalted heights of the Director’s suite to see what was on offer.

During the journey, they decided that a united front to any proposals was essential, and to that end they all agreed that if the Mars flight was offered, they would accept it, although two of the crew were a little hesitant about putting their full weight behind the idea at first.

The long trek to the high rise administration block was made a little easier than it would normally have been in days of old, by the moving belt system which joined all the main units of the Earth side launch station together.

Reaching the lift which would whirl them up forty storeys in half as many seconds, the group were finally united in their decision to accept the anticipated Mars flight, if indeed, that was what the Director had in mind.

The sheer opulence of the Director’s suite was something to behold, being the only unit in the whole complex apart from the VIP suite, to be so adorned. Everywhere else was designed to be purely functional and efficient, with no pot plants or pretty pictures to distract the personnel from their day to day duties.

As the crew exited the lift, their feet sank into a rich dark purple deep pile carpet, enabling them to traverse the space to the reception lounge in total silence, apart from a comment offered by Greg to the effect that the designers of the suite must have been colour blind, or at the very least, colour deficient in the red band.

A tall willowy blonde, who would make any red blooded male’s heart ache, emerged from a green wall of strange looking plants which reached right up to the high ceiling, no doubt genetically engineered by someone with a warped sense of humour.

‘Please take a seat while I see if the Director is ready to see you.’ she purred with a voice like soft silk sliding over an even softer thigh.

The crew looked at each other in turn, two of them going a red about the gills, while Paul swallowed hard and said, ‘Must say, I’m glad I don’t work here, I’d be in jail within the first week, or maybe sooner.’ The others grinned and giggled like embarrassed school boys, while nodding their heads vigorously, except Greg, who had other things on his mind at the moment. He felt he was still responsible for the welfare of the others, even if they all agreed on the trip.

‘Good God.’ exclaimed one of the crew when he got his breath back and the blonde was safely engulfed in the greenery and out of earshot. ‘If anyone needed a good reason not to risk his neck in space, I’d put her down for the first six, that’s for sure.’

‘Forget it,’ said Greg, ‘I’ll bet she’s about as off limits as the Director’s booze cabinet, and then some. Must say though, she’s a rather tempting morsel.’

Foliage rustled and parted, the blonde adjusted a strand of hair which a vagrant leaf had dislodged from its carefully placed position, and glided towards the still awe-struck crew.

‘Please come this way, the Director will see you now.’ she purred, and four male spines quivered and tingled as over active imaginations took hold for a few delicious moments.

If the reception area was opulent, then the Director’s office was downright obscene in its splendour. The carpet was even thicker, the furniture hand built from the finest imported mahogany and hand polished to a mirror finish which almost hurt the eyes of those fortunate enough to be honoured to view it.

Very ancient pictures in even older heavy gilt frames adorned the walls giving the ambience of a very rich museum rather than an office belonging to the Space Administration. The crew were impressed.

A six foot bronzed Adonis with silver white hair, and a wide smile complete with a set of perfect sparkling white teeth, greeted the somewhat shaken four and Greg, waving them towards a row of reproduction gilt Queen Ann chairs.

‘Please be seated gentlemen. Don’t worry, they’re a lot stronger than they look.’

Despite the reassurance, the crew gingerly did as they were bid, feeling out of place in the plush surroundings.

‘We have much to discuss with regard to the forthcoming manned mission to Mars, and I suspect that you have already guessed that you have been short listed for the project.’

The Director beamed his flashing white smile from one to the next, looking for some affirmation to his statement.

‘Naturally we have discussed it since we received your request to attend this meeting.  I think I can speak for the rest of the crew when I say that we are honoured to have been considered for the project.’ Greg hoped he hadn’t been too effusive in his reply.

‘Good.’ said the Director, his face suddenly losing its enforced smile and taking on a more serious attitude.

‘I think a little light refreshment is called for before I put you all in the picture, so to speak,’ and so saying he silently glided across the room to the magnificent drinks cabinet, putting six glasses and a very ornate bottle onto a tray.

The soft plop of the withdrawn cork was swallowed up by the sound absorbing qualities of the thick pile carpet, along with the clink of the glasses as he filled them one after another, and then passed them to eagerly awaiting hands.

When all were armed with a cut crystal glass containing some unknown aromatic sweet smelling pale amber liquid, the Director gracefully lowered himself into his over stuffed leather covered chair, raised his glass and said seriously,

‘I drink to your health, a successful mission, and your safe return to Earth.’

Greg didn’t like the sound of the last part of the toast, it seemed to have a doubting quality which somehow the controlled voice of the Director was unable to hide.

The crew raised their glasses towards the Director in acknowledgement, and then took a sip of the strange liquid, trying to hide their surprise as it coursed down their throats.

Later, when the crew discussed the interview, they felt that in some indefinable way sharing the drink with the Director had somehow committed them to the project and left them less happy about the whole thing than they would have wished.

The Director unnecessarily cleared his throat to gain the attention of the still overawed prospective Mars explorers.

‘I am sure all of you know the most salient details about the project, as you have been working on the assembly of the main ship for so long. But I would like, if I may, to fill in some details you may not have had access to.’ He looked around at the crew to try and judge just how much they knew, and how much he could safely skip over.

‘As you must know, we have sent many probes to Mars in the past, most of the early ones were only capable of sending back pictures, and then we managed to land one and that gave us a little more information of the conditions on the planet. Twelve years ago we managed to send down a Lander from an orbiting vehicle and bring back a sample of Martian soil, or I should say, sand.

‘Once it had been analysed, and a few simple bacteria found in the sample, other probes were sent. One of these brought back a small piece of bone, or at least, that’s what we think it was. Needless to say, a manned landing was now called for from on high, and a rather hastily constructed mother ship complete with a Lander was cobbled together and dispatched to the planet.

‘The three man ship reached Mars without mishap, the Lander went down with two crew on board, the other one remaining on the orbiter to help with the rejoining of the Lander on completion of the mission, which unfortunately for all concerned, failed.’

‘We had radio contact with the orbiter throughout the mission, although it is still not clear exactly what happened.

‘We know for sure that the Lander made it down to the surface, the crew suited up and left the Lander for a short exploration to see if there were any artefacts in the vicinity worth retrieving. None were found, so they returned to the Lander and took a rest.

‘The next excursion took place some five hours later, both crew members leaving the Lander as before, but this time they took an extra supply of oxygen to enable them to explore a steep sided valley which they had seen before the Lander went down.

‘They had radio contact with the orbiter, as we did, although there was a time delay between Earth and Mars which didn’t help matters very much. The explorer’s comments as they made their way to the valley were relayed to us, so we have a fully detailed account of what happened, up to a certain point.

‘There was a lot of static on the orbiter’s transmission for a while, and then we were informed that one of the explorers had disappeared. The other explorer tried to find the first one, but no trace could be found. The footsteps in the sand ended where he had crossed a flat slab of rock and didn’t appear on the other side.

‘The remaining explorer was ordered to return to the Lander for safety’s sake, so that an assessment of the situation could be made. He never made it back to the Lander. The last we heard from him was a gasp as he reached what we estimated to be halfway up the side of valley on the return journey.

‘The auto carrier wave transmissions from the orbiter ceased a couple of hours later, and that was the end of the expedition. No one survived.’

‘Just before the orbiter’s transmission ended, we heard a startled voice from the last remaining member of the expedition saying that he could no longer see the Lander. It had been obscured for several minutes in what he assumed was a cloud of fine sand blown up by the ever present wind, and when the dust cleared there was no sign of it.

‘Moments later his vocal transmissions ended. We were able to place the position of the orbiter quite accurately due to its steady location signals, but later these suddenly stopped, and that was the last contact we had from the entire expedition.

‘We can only assume that all three of the crew died and some failure in the equipment caused the Lander and the orbiter to break up, but we don’t know for sure what really happened.’ The Director paused for a moment, unable to hide the sadness he felt while recalling the events of the first manned landing on Mars.

Greg and the other four fidgeted about in their chairs, not knowing what to say for fear of saying the wrong thing, the silence being finally broken by the Director offering the prospective crew of the new mission a refill of their glasses.

The Director leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes as if he was trying to decide what to say next.

One of the crew took a larger sip of his drink than he had intended, the fiery liquid burning his throat as it obeyed the laws of gravity, causing him to utter a muffled splutter.

This seemed to break the Director out of his reverie, as he straightened his back, leaned forward and began to speak,

‘Three years ago we sent another mission to the Red Orb. Being mindful of the last disaster, we took our time in constructing the ship and the Lander, testing every part possible to make sure there would be no mechanical failures.’

‘Every stage of the mission was carefully monitored and progress checked for any possible malfunction of the equipment, but everything worked perfectly. The mother ship arrived in Mars orbit on schedule, and took up a stationary position over the site of the former landing. High powered scopes scanned the area for any clues of what might have happened to the previous Lander, but there wasn’t a sign that it had been there, nor was there any wreckage of the orbiter. Not that we expected to find any really.

‘After forty-eight hours in orbit, the Lander was sent down with two crew on board, the other two remaining on the orbiter, to observe, increasing the chance of information getting back to us if anything went wrong. The Lander stayed put for twenty hours, and as nothing untoward happened, the crew emerged as the Martian dawn broke.

‘It was decided that the two who had landed should stay at least one hundred metres apart at all times, so that if anything threatening happened, the other would be able to observe and report back to the orbiter, and thence to us. Both explorers were equipped with video cameras so that pictures of their progress could be relayed back to the orbiter and a record of what they did would be available for future analysis.

‘We thought we had covered everything with regard to the exploration of the Martian surface, and to begin with, everything went according to plan. The old site where the previous Lander had disappeared was located using the co-ordinates recorded during the first exploration. There was no evidence on the surface of it ever having been there, but using ultra sound, the area was scanned and anomalies in the surface density were found.

‘Further and deeper investigation of the maps revealed another nasty surprise for us.’

‘Below the area where the previous Lander should have been, they found what can only be interpreted from the sound chart readings as a void, some fifteen meters below the surface. Unfortunately, the explorers didn’t have the necessary equipment with them to excavate the area to find out if it was indeed a void, or if the old Lander was down there.’

‘Looks like there may be something in the rumours which have abounded since the new ship has been under construction.’ Paul commented, looking in turn at the other members of the crew for confirmation of his statement.

‘Be that as it may,’ the Director continued, ‘we don’t have enough data to be certain one way or the other, but it looks as if there is something happening on Mars which we didn’t expect and are certainly unable to explain.

‘Anyway, every precaution possible was taken to ensure that if anything did happen, we would be aware of it via the video link, not that we could do much about it from Earth as the signal takes twelve minutes on average to reach us, and another twelve for our reply. As I’m sure you already know, Mars is about two hundred and twenty eight million kilometres from us, mean distance, that is, so transmissions take a relatively long time to reach us.

‘The two explorers left the Lander module, set up the main video camera next to it, and then one of them proceeded to walk towards the rift valley where the previous mission had lost two of its personnel.

‘After walking for about one hundred metres, he turned, training his camera on his companion who was still beside the Lander module, so that as he came forward and bypassed the first man, a record of the second man’s progress could be taken, and studied later if some misfortune befell him.’

‘They continued in this manner, taking it in turns to move forward one at a time until the rim of the valley was reached, and here they paused for a while, standing the obligatory one hundred meters apart and sending back pictures of the area for later analysis.

‘As far as we can tell, there was nothing in the pictures to indicate any threat or danger, the Martian landscape was just the same as seen on the previous visit, and very similar to the pictures taken by the earlier unmanned probes.

‘We were about to instruct one of the explorers to find a suitable way down to the valley floor, when one of them reported hearing a faint singing sound, although his companion couldn’t hear it, and nor could we.

‘Before our message instructing them to move back from the edge could reach them, the one who reported the ‘singing’ walked off towards a steep incline at the valley rim, and stepped off into space. In actual fact, he slid down the valley wall in a cloud of fine dust which soon obscured his flailing body from sight, the only evidence of his presence being the odd limb showing at the front of the dust cloud as it raced towards the valley floor.

‘When the dust cleared, there was no sign of the man, just a slight disturbance on the surface of the side of the valley where he had slid down. The other man, despite our instructing to the contrary, went to the edge of the valley, and using his monocular, scoured the area for his companion. There was no trace of him.

‘At this point, it was deemed sensible to return our man to the orbiter and plan the next move. The remaining explorer was ordered back to the Lander and the Lander returned to dock with the orbiter, hopefully out of harm’s way, should anything try to reach out that far.’

‘Despite his comprehensive training, the explorer was in a state of shock when he emerged from the Lander to join the other two crew members in the orbiter. He maintained that as he over shot the Lander in his haste to get back, the gravity being so low on Mars, he thought he heard the ‘singing’ sound his companion had mentioned.

‘As he turned to retrace the last few metres to the Lander, his vision went blurred as though another picture of something else was being superimposed on it. It was only his extensive training which enabled him to almost blindly re-enter the module and initiate the take off sequence.

‘Needless to say, none of the remaining three members of the expedition were over keen to return to the surface, and it was some seventy two hours later, after moving the orbiter out to what they considered to be a safe distance, that they decided between them that two would go down, leaving one in the orbiter as a backup. We didn’t think it was right to influence their decision in any way, but secretly we were very pleased that they decided to return to the surface.

‘During the three days in their supposedly safe orbit around the red planet, they reported that on two occasions the craft had received a blow of some kind. Not a violent strike as would be expected from a meteorite, but more like a violent push. They couldn’t explain it, and neither could we.

‘As they didn’t experience any further blows to the craft, they put it down to some possible strange anomaly to do with the space around the planet and the incident was soon forgotten.

‘The Lander returned to the surface, and the crew emerged for another attempt to solve the mystery of the missing previous exploration team, and their disappearing Lander and orbiter.’

‘This time the two explorers, obeying the one ‘hundred metre rule’, went to a point on the valley edge some distance from the previous attempt, and found a gentle sloping path which looked as if it would take them to the valley bottom.

‘The word path would suggest that it had been constructed by someone or something, but when we examined the pictures they sent back, it was obvious that it was a fluke of nature, a natural rift in the valley side due to some movement of the substructure.

‘Earlier, it had been decided among them, that if the ‘singing’ sound should occur again they would need some means of preventing any influence it might have on their actions, and the ingenious solution they came up with was to broadcast music over the orbiter’s transmission frequency to drown out any extraneous sounds they may be subjected to. If they needed to speak back to the orbiter, they would use a slightly different frequency, so keeping their two way communication system operative.

‘The two explorers reached the beginning of the downward slope to the valley floor, and as there had been no ‘singing’ or other threats to their existence, it was decided to descend the slope, keeping a distance of fifty metres or so apart.

‘They reached the bottom of the slope safely and began walking along the valley floor towards what they described as a large square block of dark grey stone, nearly twice the size of the Lander, which protruded out from the wall of the valley where it rose almost vertically to the plain above.’

The Director rummaged in a draw for a moment, and leaned forward to pass several colour prints across the desk for Greg and his team to view.

‘This isn’t a freak of nature, surely?’ asked Paul, astonishment showing clearly on his face.

As the pictures were passed around, the others agreed that the symmetry of the block and its smooth surfaces were not likely to have been a natural phenomenon, and the implications of that clearly rattled their otherwise calm acceptance of the Director’s recounting of events so far.

‘The next event was the most perplexing of all,’ the Director continued, ‘and please bear its details in mind before you accept the proposed mission.

‘A camera had been placed several hundred metres up the valley so that the scene could be recorded for future analysis.

‘As they approached the stone, a tiny pinpoint of light emanated from the opposite side of the valley to illuminate the face of the stone block. The light didn’t cause the surface of the block to glow as it would if we focused one of our lights on it, but was almost as if the light penetrated the block and somehow made the stone glow from within, creating a strange pattern on the surface. The light beam was so small we nearly missed it, only when we re-examined the pictures were we able to identify its source point.

‘At this point the ‘singing’ began, and the orbiter’s music transmission was switched on as agreed earlier. The men in the valley reported back to the orbiter that they were able to continue towards the stone block, as the music drowned out the extraneous noise of the ‘singing’ as expected.

‘One of the men got within ten metres of the block when he let out a cry of astonishment, reporting back that there seemed to be some sort of hieroglyphics etched into the surface of the stone, the light from across the valley somehow causing it to become visible. The other man joined him, against the ‘distance’ rule which had been agreed upon by all, and that, unfortunately, brought about their ultimate undoing.’

‘One of the men approached the face of the block and began tracing out some of the strange signs with his gloved finger.

‘We are still not quite certain of this, but as he did so, some of the incised signs seemed to change colour, but the change was subtle, and may have been a trick of the light.

‘As the other man joined him, a section of the stone disappeared, dissolved into thin air, or just plain wasn’t there any more. We have been over the recordings time and time again, and we still can’t see exactly what happened.

‘To our horror, both men turned towards each other, nodded, and walked into the opening, the hole in the face of the stone block was suddenly no more. It was just a solid block of stone again, as it was before the light struck it.

‘That was the last we ever saw of the two explorers. The Video camera continued to send pictures of the valley floor and the stone block, but they might just have well been still shots, for there was no movement of any kind to be seen.

‘The remaining member of the team in the orbiter went frantic, and because of the time delay for the signals to reach us and be returned, we had a very difficult time of it trying to calm him down. Eventually he regained some semblance of normality, or so it seemed to us, and a rational conversation about what to do next was begun.

‘We should have spotted it earlier, but we didn’t. The lone member of the orbiter was just a bit too compliant, too eager to accept our suggestions of returning to Earth, and the next thing we knew was that the Lander was on it’s way up to dock with the orbiter.

‘We guessed he intended to go down to the surface, and tried to persuade him not to, but after the Lander began its journey up into orbit, he cut all transmissions to us and we couldn't control the craft from Earth.’

‘There was nothing we could do but sit and wait to see what would happen next. We had no control over the Lander while the orbiter was functioning in control mode, which it was. All we could do was bring the orbiter back to Earth using an override signal, but this would only work if the person in the orbiter was not controlling it.

‘We watched, helpless, as the Lander came up and docked with the orbiter, and we assumed the remaining crew member transferred to the Lander, for it soon began its journey down to the planet’s surface once again. The main video camera was still in place and sent back pictures of the one remaining man we had on Mars heading off towards the valley rim where the last two disappeared, and we could do nothing about it.

‘Fortunately, he had the sense to take his own camera with him, so we had a good view of what he saw as he went down the long slope to where the other two found the square block of stone protruding out of the valley wall.

‘The camera left by the other two was still working, and sent back clear pictures of the stone block and surrounding area, but the thin beam of light which had previously illuminated the block had been turned off. Suddenly we heard music, and assumed that he had left the orbiter’s transmitter on in case he encountered the singing sounds the others had heard, and had just switched his receiver on to block out those sounds. This of course, meant that we could hear anything he chose to say, but so far he had decided not to communicate to us.

‘He had reached the foot of the incline safely, and was just about to walk across the flat bottom of the valley towards the stone block where the others had disappeared, when he uttered a startled gasp, and so did we.’

‘At first hazily, and then solidifying as we watched, the valley bottom became populated with plants. Tall frond like palms, very large round and ribbed plants, which looked like squashes, but on a huge scale, and a variety of other growths, the like of which you would find hard to imagine.

‘A small stream of clear water cascaded down the side of the valley to fill a large pool just in front of the stone block.

‘As our man stopped, dumbfounded, we could no longer hear the music broadcast from the orbiter, but the sound of the water rushing down the valley wall came over clearly.

‘We don’t know if he had switched off the music, or some other force had taken control of it. This was the most mind numbing thing we had ever witnessed in all the time we have been engaged in space exploration, and we were completely helpless to do anything about it.

‘We assumed the whole thing was an illusion or hallucination of some kind, but we couldn’t understand how it could be picked up by the cameras and sent back to us. Something well outside our understanding and with considerable power was taking control of the project, determined to prevent us from exploring this section of the planet.

‘In the middle of the pool was a rock, and on it sat one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen, beckoning to our man, who had begun walking towards the water. As his feet entered the pool, silver splashes rose into the air, wetting his suit and then falling back slowly as if in a dream. The further in he went, the more his body was submerged, until only his head was visible, and then that too disappeared from sight beneath the silver ripples.

‘A few moments later, and the whole scene reverted back to how it was earlier, rock, sand, and the big block of stone protruding out from the valley side.’

‘Our man was left standing in the middle of the valley where the rock had been moments earlier, dry as a bone and none the worse for the virtual dunking in the phantom pool.

‘One theory offered to us later was that whoever or whatever it was that created the illusion of the pool, expected our man to feel that he had drowned, completely missing the point that he was wearing a space suit. From this we concluded that whatever it was, it wasn’t all that bright, and maybe we have a chance to override anything it might throw at us in any future expedition.’

‘Is that why,’ began Greg, ‘ we have all been subjected to long spells in virtual reality sessions, trying to carry out tasks when all around us has been set up to impede our completing those tasks?’

‘Yes, basically,’ replied the Director, ‘but there is a little bit more to it than that, as you will find out.’

The glasses were filled up again and emptied almost as quickly, as the five man crew of the next expedition to Mars tried to come to terms with what they had just heard.

All was quiet for several minutes as each person present thought his own thoughts, and came to his own conclusions on the matter.

Ben, the electronics engineer of the crew, was the first to break the uneasy silence which had fallen over the group like a heavy blanket.

‘If we could electronically block out the singing sound, and accustom ourselves to ignoring anything which doesn’t fit in with what we know to be true, we should stand a good chance of surviving whatever is thrown at us, unless of course ‘it’ uses physical weapons on us, and then we could be in real trouble as body armour is of little use when wearing a space suit.’

‘What happened to the others who went into the opening in the stone block,’ asked Greg, hesitatingly, ‘was anything seen of them again?’

‘No,’ replied the Director, ‘as far as we know they are still in there, and dead long ago. Their oxygen wouldn’t have lasted for more than twenty hours at the most.

‘As for our last man on Mars,’ he continued, ‘we could only watch as he did his own thing, so to speak. He went up to the stone and waited for the light to come on, but it didn’t, so he was unable to see the markings on the stone face and therefore unable to trace out their design and gain entry to whatever was within the block. I think, on looking back, his intention was to try and rescue his companions, but to no avail.

‘He wandered about in the valley for about two hours, exploring every nook and cranny for some means of gaining entry to the stone. In the end he had to return to the Lander as a storm was brewing up, and it would have been fatal to have been exposed to the force the Martian winds can produce. He retraced his steps to the Lander, fired the anchor bolts to hold it to the surface, and waited out the storm.

‘I’m sure you know already that the Martian winds can get up to nearly four hundred and fifty kilometres per hour in a really good storm. This accounts for the pink tinge to the atmosphere as the very fine dust particles are swept up and hang suspended for some considerable time due to the low gravity.

‘Despite all our efforts, he still refused to answer our radio calls. Eventually the storm died down, and our man set off for the valley, dragging an extra oxygen cylinder. Obviously intending to stay for a while as he tried to puzzle out a means of entry to the stone block.’

‘As he approached the rim of the valley, it was evident that some changes had taken place. The camera showed a high rock wall stretching from one side of the valley bottom to the other, and about ten metres high, completely blocking any access to the stone block he had visited earlier.

‘Undaunted, our man went down the slope to the valley bottom and approached the sheer sided barrier to his progress. We found it hard to believe our eyes at what took place next. He reached out a hand which disappeared into the wall! It wasn’t really there at all, or so it seemed. With no more ado, he walked straight through it and out the other side, whereupon the wall slowly faded from view.

‘What we can’t understand is how a phantom wall can be projected which is not only visible to a person, but also recordable on our cameras. It defies all known science at our disposal, and is another mystery we would like solved.

‘That technology could be very useful.’ said Greg.

‘Having negotiated the wall barrier,’ the Director continued, ‘it was only a matter of time before he put two and two together, and tried the same approach to the stone block, ignoring the assumed necessity of the hieroglyphics, which were not illuminated because of  the missing beam of light.

‘A few moments later he stood facing the block. His gloved hand reached out, but met solid stone. We thought that would be the end of it, but he began running his fingers over the stone surface, trying to trace out the hidden pattern. He must have got it right, for the next thing we saw was the opening appearing in the middle of the stone, and our man walked straight in without hesitation.

‘We watched the scene for about two hours, when he walked out, picked up the spare oxygen cylinder he had left behind, and returned into the stone block.’

‘That was the last we saw of him. Someone was on duty here twenty four hours a day in case he returned to the valley, but after three days we gave up. He must have died long before that, as his oxygen would have given out, even with the extra cylinder.

Why he decided not to stay in communication with us, or why he entered the stone block and stayed inside for so long, we have no idea. The cameras continued to send back pictures of the valley and the Lander for another couple of weeks, and then one by one the transmissions failed, the orbiter being the last to go off line.’

‘And you would like us to go to Mars and find out what happened to the two previous crews.’ Greg made it a statement rather than a question.

‘Yes, that’s about the size of it. We can’t order you to go, it would have to be on a voluntary basis,’ the Director replied, ‘as the chance of you all returning is remote to say the least. What I have related to you is of a confidential nature, and restricted to only a few here at the centre, although it would seem a little has leaked out and been added to, according to the rumours which abound.’

The long ensuing silence was almost as tangible as it was embarrassing to both parties, as neither knew quite what to say next. Greg looked hopefully to each of his group in turn for inspiration, and it was their electronics engineer, Ben, who finally got the stalled conversation rolling again with,

‘What you have told us automatically implies that there is some form of intelligent life up there, which doesn't want us poking around its domain, and is prepared to kill to that end. Also we would be up against a technology either more advanced than ours, or certainly different. What chance do you think we would have?’

‘We aren’t sure if whatever is causing us so much grief on Mars is actually alive in the sense we use the term, or if it’s some sort of automatic robotic device, to stop any exploration of the area. Life as we know it, couldn’t exist there without a lot of support.

The oxygen level is only point one five, and the surface pressure is only one percent of Earth’s atmosphere pressure measured at sea level, so, quite apart from the low temperature, it’s a pretty hostile place, and that’s without the efforts of whatever it is that’s trying to stop us exploring it.’

The Director looked from one to the other of the assembled five, hoping that someone would jump at the opportunity of sacrificing themselves on the altar of progress.

‘We can assume,’ began Paul, ‘that Mars once had a reasonable atmosphere because of the bone fragment that was found, so life of some sort must have existed there.

‘Then there was that lump of metal oxide one of the probes brought back, and that was considered to have been the remains of a manufactured piece of metal because of the metallic elements it consisted of. I think there was life there, albeit a very long time ago, and that could well be responsible for the troubles we’ve been having.’

As far as we know, none of the probes have been attacked, unless of course they were in an area considered to be of importance to ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ is.’ The Director was desperately trying to keep the conversation going to find out how the team really felt about the forthcoming expedition, and if they could be persuaded to man it.

‘How do you really rate our chances,’ asked Greg, ‘bearing in mind we now know about the mental interference, the extra training we have had compared to our predecessors, and a much bigger orbiter and extra supplies?’

‘I must be honest with you, not as good as we would have liked it to be. The only thing we can do is to arm you with every bit of information we have, give you the best of our equipment, and a somewhat unconventional suggestion from one of the psychologists. He thinks we could give you a ‘mind plant’ using hypnosis, such that if anything tries to interfere with your  normal thought processes, it will cut in and override any extraneous suggestions you might be given, helping you to ignore them. Whether it will work, we don’t know, but in theory it should.’

‘That’s quite comforting,’ commented Ben, rather sarcastically, ‘someone is going to fiddle about with our minds and then something else is going to have another go on Mars, and we shall be left to try and sort out reality from fantasy while trying to survive on a hostile planet which doesn’t want us there in the first place. Is there no way of testing this ‘mind plant’ thing before we go, just so that we can get some idea of what we’re up against?’

‘Unfortunately, no. We don’t even know what kind of interference the others were subjected to,’ replied the Director, somewhat testily. ‘Except that it made them do things which were contra survival in the extreme. Somehow their minds were ‘got at’ such that they couldn’t tell reality from whatever ideas or pictures they were exposed to. If we could solve that problem, then you would stand a much better chance of surviving yourselves, although we don’t know what other tricks Mars may have in store.’

‘Is there anything else you haven’t told us?’ asked Greg, wondering what other horror story might be forthcoming.

‘Yes, there is, but we don’t understand it and therefore don’t put much credence on it. I don’t think it’s even worth mentioning, which is why I haven’t so far.’

‘I somehow think you’d better mention it, after all, it’s us who are going to Mars.’ Greg said firmly.

‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with the planet itself, but I’ll tell you anyway. For sometime now various departments have been receiving memos intended to spread doom, gloom and despondency on the project. At long last we tracked down the culprit, and gave him a good grilling.’

‘I’ll just bet you did.’ Ben muttered under his breath, but not quite ‘under’ enough.

The Director paused, turned his head towards Ben and forced a smiled, before continuing.

‘Although his memos were many, varied and phrased differently, they all boiled down to three basic things. One, we wouldn’t like what we found on Mars. Two, there was a tenuous link between Mars and Earth which mustn’t be revealed, and thirdly, we would be dealing with forces we wouldn’t be able to understand.’

‘Well, he got the last one right,’ Greg commented, ‘although it could have been a lucky guess, or engendered by some of the rumours which have been flying around.’

‘That’s what we thought, but when we checked back through the old records, it had been going on since before the first manned trip.

‘In anticipation of your next question, he said he got his information from vivid dreams he had been having, so he was removed from the project and is now being looked after in a special unit by those who specialize in caring for the confused and bewildered.’

‘Poor sod.’ commented Ben, voicing the feelings of the rest of the crew.

‘I think we'd better see him,’ said Greg, just to be on the safe side, can this be arranged?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish it. But I don’t see what help it will be to you. They’re only dreams, as I’ve said.’ The director was looking more despondent by the minute.

‘What about weaponry?’ asked Hans, the fourth member of the group, being the engineer who would be relied upon to look after all things mechanical.

‘What are you going to shoot at if you can’t see what’s causing the trouble?’ asked the Director, feeling he’d scored a point at long last.

‘I’d just feel a lot happier if I had something to argue back with if we get into an argument with something physical, that’s all.’ Hans was adamant.

‘As you wish.’ the Director was looking a little happier now. ‘We can supply a neat little hand held laser unit which packs quite a punch, and the Lander can be equipped with one of considerably more power.’

‘What about the good old fashioned projectile type, you know, one which fires bullets?’

‘Yes, that too, if you must.’ The Director was losing his cool calm attitude again, and tried to correct it.

‘I think you gentlemen should go away and talk things over for a while. There’s a lot at stake, and you have a lot to consider. We’ll meet again when you have decided whether to take up the challenge or not, or when I have anything else to add to your decision making processes.’

The Director rose from his seat, stretched to his full height, smiled as only he could with his flashing white teeth, and made a point of shaking everyone firmly by the hand, especially Ben, who, in the Directors estimation, was most likely to cause dissent.

The meeting was at a close, the crew retiring to the canteen to replenish their reserves and decide their next move.

They gathered around the shiny stainless steel table with their steaming hot cups of coffee and a large plate of dubious looking sticky buns.

‘Christ, what do they make these from, reconstituted drinks bottles?’ Ben muttered, as he wrenched a bite from the highly coloured confection. The others grinned, Ben was in good form again.

After demolishing most of the garish offerings on the table and raising their somewhat depleted caffeine levels, it was Greg who finally got the conversation under way again,

‘I think the first thing we should do is visit this poor unfortunate who has been upsetting the Director’s apple cart.

As his warnings have been going on for so long, I don’t think it can all be put down to rumour, there just might be something else involved, and I think we should check it out to be sure. We need every bit of information we can get our hands on if we are to return in one piece, assuming that we go in the first place, that is.’

‘I don’t think there’s very much doubt about our going.’ Paul interjected sharply. ‘I think it’s just a matter of when and with what.’

Someone had finally said what they all felt, and having made the statement, the team visibly relaxed in their manner as they consumed the rest of the somewhat doubtful refreshments.

As there were no further tests or training schemes for the crew that day, Hans was elected to find the whereabouts of the man who had been forecasting problems with regard to the Mars project, while the others went to see the psychologist who was purported to have mind bending skills, not that Ben gave much credence to the theory of the ‘mind shield’, he being of a more practical bent.

The team or crew, depending on who’s view point was taken, had been ferrying up components for the Mars expedition for some considerable time, and as the construction of the ship, complete with its Lander took shape, they tended to consider it to be their ship, as they had been involved in the assembly of its component parts and the testing of the various systems which made up the life support module.

Although prior to their meeting with the Director, no one had said in as many words that they would crew the expedition, it had been an unspoken foregone conclusion among them that they would. The meeting had consolidated the team in so far that it was now official, if they took up the challenge.

Finding the psychologist proved a little more difficult than they had anticipated, and getting an interview arranged with him stretched everyone's tolerance level almost to breaking point. As they trundled from office to office, trying to get some constructive sense out of poe faced secretaries whose sole purpose seemed to be creating obstacles for others to stumble over, Ben summed it up in his usual erudite way,

‘It would be a bloody sight easier to get an interview with God, than this mind basher.’ He often vocalized what the others thought, which was probably one of the reasons why he was so well liked among them.

At long last, an interview was set up for the following day, and the four returned to their quarters to see how successful Hans had been in locating the ‘doom monger’.

Hans had a way of cutting across the normal red tape of large institutions, and a meeting had been arranged for later that evening, much to everyone's surprise. A decent meal and a change of clothes put all in a good mood, which was just as well, considering where they proposed to go.

The meeting took place in the general recreation room of the special unit, the other inmates of the institution either having had enough recreation for one day, or were otherwise being entertained by the copious number of white coated staff which seemed to drift around the place in a state of bemused fulfillment.

The originator of the copious ‘doom’ memos seemed to be as normal as most other people on the main complex, greeting them calmly and with a degree of dignity which took them all by surprise.

As Greg carefully and gently explained the purpose of their visit, it was evident from the uncomfortable facial expression adopted by the listener that he was going to be grilled yet again, and he was none too happy about the prospect.

‘They say it’s all in my imagination, and therefore valueless. I really don’t see how I can help you, sorry.’

To the surprise of the others, Greg seemed to accept the situation, and began a general dialogue about the orbiting space station, plus the general way things were going with regard to the latest developments in space travel.

It wasn’t until he gently steered the conversation around as to why the listener was incarcerated in the funny farm, that the man began to offer some insight as to what had actually happened.

Once it had become public knowledge that a manned space flight to Mars was under-way, the dreams began. At first they were of a general nature with regard to the hazards of space flight, becoming more specific as the project neared completion. The real trouble began when the dreamer sent memos to various departments foretelling of strange possible happenings which could befall those who dared to desecrate the sacred soil of Mars.

Narrated in the memos were scenes of strange creatures who threatened those who would defile the surface of the red planet, of weird looking machines with a mind of their own, who went about destroying all before them.

Veiled suggestions of a strange link between Earth and Mars permeated most memos, implying doom for those who would unveil such dreadful secrets. Most worrying of all, if any credence could be given it, was the suggestion that a force on Earth was dedicated to the failure of the project.

‘And you were getting these dreams before the first manned flight to Mars took off?’ asked Greg.

‘Yes,’ replied the man, distress clearly showing on his face, ‘I don’t know where the dreams came from, but they aren't like ordinary dreams, they are so vivid and feel so real that I used to awake shaking and covered in sweat.’

‘Why did you send memos instead of going to someone in authority, and explaining the situation?’ asked Greg, still finding it difficult to accept the narration as reality.

‘Who’s going to listen to me? Also, I must admit the dreams did seem a bit preposterous at the time. I thought that if I sent enough memos out to various departments, someone might take them seriously enough to begin an investigation, but no one did, and I wound up here.’

‘Do they treat you all right?’ asked Paul, a degree of concern sounding in his voice.

‘Yes. Well, at least they do now. At first I was drugged up to the eyeballs and didn’t know what day of the week it was, but now that’s all stopped, and I just get the odd bit of counselling every now and again, not that it ever helps very much really. I now wish I’d kept my stupid mouth shut and let them find out for themselves, the outcome would have been the same.’

By the look on the faces of the team, it was evident that they were feeling sorry for the man as beads of sweat dotted his brow, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Greg was doubtful whether he should continue the questioning, but not knowing if he would get another chance, he plunged on.

‘What do you really think would happen to us if we went ahead with the project, and landed on Mars?’

‘Don’t.’ He groaned, while his face screwed up in a series of twisted wrinkles as if some interior force was trying to take over, but was of a different shape to the host body.

‘You know what happened to the other two attempts. I don’t have any more than a few rumours to go on, but I expect you have been briefed by those who know, so you can expect the same reception when you get there.’ The man was now showing severe signs of distress, and Greg decided to end the meeting while the man still had some shred of sanity left.

They thanked him for his time, and for going through the unpleasant events of the past yet again, promising to return when the mission was ready to go, and again afterwards to relate how they got on.

It was a very subdued team which left the gaunt buildings of the mentally disturbed, wondering if their turn might come later if they went ahead with the project.

‘My God, that poor sod really went through it.’ Ben commented, as they walked down the cold grey concrete pathway leading them to the real world of advanced space technology, plastic buns, and the aspiring hopes of mankind.

‘I think we need to talk this whole thing over rather carefully before we sign on the dotted line,’ Greg said, ‘there’s still something missing, something we don’t know about the project.’

The group went back to their quarters, bypassing the canteen, as none of them felt like eating after the traumatic meeting they had just had.

‘I get the unpleasant feeling that there’s more to those dreams than meets the eye,’ Hans began, ‘I’ve never seen anyone react like he did when relating their worst nightmares, so what are we missing?’

The group looked at each other in turn, hoping that someone would come up with a reasonable answer to the unasked question of where the dreams emanated from. They had long ago discarded the idea that it was just the vivid imagination of the dreamer, so there had to be another source.

‘What worries me most,’ said Paul, ‘is that he somehow knew what would happen to the other two expeditions before they went, and that’s unnerving to say the least.’

‘Where else can we get any information from?’ asked Ben, ‘unless we start believing in fairy tales and old legends. I think we must make up our own minds based on what we know to be real.’

‘But what is real?’ Hans replied. ‘Nearly everyday some long held theory gets thrown out on the scrap heap, and a new one takes its place. It’s getting to the point that if you can’t pick it up and take a bite out of it, it probably belongs to your, or someone else's imagination. I think we must make up our minds based on what we know, tool up for the job, and see what happens. We must take every precaution possible of course, and we can always back out if things get too hot.’

They all nodded in solemn agreement. They were the most qualified for the venture, and apart from an outright refusal, which would be very difficult to justify, they were stuck with it.

The next three days saw the crew going through their normal top up training routines, designed to keep a fine edge to their abilities, interspersed with frequent meetings to discuss their needs for the forthcoming expedition with the supplies department.

It was generally accepted between them that they would take the mission, but what they would take with them was still open to discussion. Lists were made, torn up, remade, and finally they had a comprehensive catalogue of equipment they considered necessary for their survival, hopefully covering all aspects of what they may have to face from the mystery force which didn’t seem to want to be disturbed on the red planet.

At long last on the third day, a meeting was arranged with the psychologist who was going to provide them with the ability to block out the singing sounds, which had been so devastating for the previous two attempts at exploration.

The group dutifully assembled outside the offices of the ‘mind bending department’, and trooped in, a little fearful of what they might be subjected to from a section of the complex they had had little to do with in the past.

The long white haired, gaunt looking doctor who finally ordained to see them, did little to boost their confidence in his ability to provide them with something useful against the mind curdling Martian sounds designed to impair their sense of reality.

As he explained the intricacies of what he proposed to do to their minds in order to combat the sounds, they agreed that he seemed to know what he was talking about

‘A posthypnotic suggestion will be implanted in your minds, such that when the ‘sounds’ begin, the implant will be triggered and go into operation.’

‘The idea is to lessen the volume of the ‘sounds’ you actually hear, but leave just enough to keep the ‘command’ locked in, so that it can do its job. Once triggered, the ‘command’ will filter out anything which you have no reality on, so that any extraneous mental pictures you are exposed to will appear hazy. You will know they are there, but will be able to distinguish them from reality, and so will be unaffected by them.

‘There is only one problem, as I see it. We don’t know exactly what ‘sounds’ the others experienced, as we only have their descriptions of them, so you will have to be careful in the first instance of exposure. Once you recognize the sounds for what they are, they will be logged in your mind for future recognition.’

‘It sounds a little too good to be true.’ Ben remarked. ‘Is there any way we can test your proposals?’

‘You could try it out in the virtual reality room, I understand you have had plenty of experience of that, so you will be able to compare your reactions with and without the mind block.’

They all agreed to take part in the experiment, although not as wholeheartedly as the doctor would have liked.

The following day, the VR room technicians were instructed to throw everything they could at the five, to try and confuse them and prevent their normal tasks from being completed. The mind block worked, and the group held the doctor in higher esteem than they did on their first meeting with him.

Having had their minds implanted with the posthypnotic command, and completed their lists of the extra extras they considered necessary for their expedition, they went to see the Director to give him the good news.

The Director couldn’t hide his delight now that he had a crew who had decided to take up the challenge of the next Mars landing, and his smile was even wider than normal as they entered the hallowed sanctum to officially accept.

‘The launch is scheduled for take off in three weeks time, all being well,’ he beamed, ‘and I have a little update which you may not have been privy to. Just before the last manned landing, a mechanical probe was sent to look for possible water in the equatorial region. It sent a drill down several metres, analysed the samples brought up, and sent the data back to us. Unfortunately, there was an error in the interpretation of that data, and the engineers considered there was little chance of obtaining water in that area.

‘At the same time, a group had begun designing a device which would drill down into the permafrost of Mars, extract the water contained in the aquatic sand layer, and process it for drinking and production of oxygen by electrolysis.

‘The project had been abandoned when we got the information back from Mars, but the good news is that an error was located on subsequent reappraisal of the data. The water producing device has now been finished, tested and shipped up to the space station.

‘This, of course, means that you can stay on the planet for considerably longer than we had anticipated, and the space which would have been taken up with a large amount of oxygen cylinders and water can now be used for any other things you may consider necessary for the expedition.

‘After you take off, another ship will be launched carrying extra fuel for the Lander and for your return journey, and this will take up an orbit near the main craft so that you can make as many Lander trips as you find necessary for restocking your supplies, or as a sanctuary, for instance.’

The meeting went on for several hours, solving the many anomalies such a project created by its very existence.

In the end, they were satisfied with what had been decided in general, and the team left feeling that everything possible had been looked at and checked over for errors, the mind block being the only remaining item which would be proved one way or the other when they encountered the alien singing sound, and no one was looking forward to that.

Over the next two weeks there was further testing of the mind block, Hans’s selection of weapons and a general check of tools and materials to cover all foreseeable possibilities.

Another visit to the ‘Dreamer’ to try and elicit any further information about his dire warnings proved fruitless. He seemed to have withdrawn into himself, and trying to get any sense out of him was more frustrating than rewarding.

The day finally came when they would take the shuttle up to the main space station orbiting Earth, check out the ship which would take them on to Mars, and generally relax for a day or two before the big journey began.

The method of launching the shuttle had been improved considerably over the old system of sheer brute force of rocket propulsion, as used in the early days of space exploration.

The several kilometre long launch track lay along the equator so that Earth’s natural spin would be added to the vehicle’s velocity, and the propulsion system had been changed to one of much greater efficiency, compared to several previous systems which had been used.

The streamlined shuttle lay on a cradle, which in turn moved along the main track until sufficient velocity had been achieved, and then the ram jets cut in, releasing the shuttle for the next stage of her journey.

The cradle, plus shuttle, were propelled along the track using a series of electromagnets, each set being activated just ahead of the cradle at an ever increasing rate as the velocity of the cradle increased. In effect, it was just a form of modified linear motor, using pulsed power. The cradle was kept suspended just clear of the tracks by another set of electromagnets so that friction was reduced to a minimum.

The ram jets took the shuttle, once it had been released from the cradle, on up into the fringes of space, and when the air was too thin to supply enough oxygen for the ram jets,  the main rocket motors took over for the last section of the journey into full orbit.

They had made more trips up to the orbiting space station than they cared to remember, but Greg still got that indefinable thrill as the shuttle climbed ever higher, and the pale blue of the sky deepened, turning dark blue through to purple and then the deepest darkness imaginable. The stars burst out one by one, and then scores at a time, until the space around them looked like an enormous jet black velvet drape, liberally sprinkled with the finest of sparkling diamonds.

This time though, Greg felt he wanted to hold onto the changing spectacle, make it last forever, somehow afraid he may never see it again, and then the shuttle nosed around to dock with the station, so the business in hand took precedence over his thoughts.

Word must have gone ahead of them, with regard to the mission, for as they debarked from the shuttle, some of the station staff gathered around the airlock and gave them a greeting fit for conquering heroes. This caused not a little embarrassment, because the heroics had yet to be implemented, and the crew didn’t really want to be heroes anyway, just getting back safely was their main concern.

The next few days were spent checking over the Mars ship and its Lander, making sure each crew member had on board those things he thought necessary for the expedition, including the varied weaponry called for by Hans.

Excitement, and the accompanying tension mounted as the departure day neared, and when it finally came it was a relief for the crew to get the project under-way at long last.

The Mars ship and its Lander vehicle were much bigger than its two predecessors, and as it undocked from the main station and slowly drifted away, it was an awesome sight for those left behind.

There being no need for streamlining in space, it consisted of an apparently random jumble of cylinders, box sections and connecting cross beams. In fact, it had been very carefully designed to allow efficient movement of its personnel between the various sections.

The main drive unit with its accompanying fuel tanks were tacked onto the end of the conglomeration of living quarters, food, materials, tools and general stores sections, almost like an afterthought.

The Lander module with its drilling and processing unit lay slung underneath the whole mass, although ‘underneath’ was an arbitrary term when considering a space vehicle.

The whole ungainly mass of the third Mars Explorer continued to slowly edge away from the main station, align itself up on the predetermined flight path, and with a burst of brilliant blue white light, accelerated out towards the red planet.

Under the old system, a Mars probe took far too long to reach its destination for human travel, as it relied on a constant velocity imparted at its insertion point into the flight path, the new system was different and better.

Using the new improved Mass Conversion Ion Drive, a space vehicle was able to continue acceleration for most of the journey, and then decelerate as it approached its target, having lost nearly all its inertia as it maneuvered into orbit.

There was little for the crew to do while the ship cleaved the blackness of space on her mission of discovery, except contemplate the somewhat unpredictable future

The ‘days’ went by as the ship ploughed on towards Mars, under the constant thrust of the new drive.  Several times the Director called up his prodigies on the communications link to give encouragement, suspecting that they would soon be facing an unknown force which none of them could comprehend or understand, as past efforts suggested.

Every bit of data, plus the so called expert’s interpretation of it, had been given to the crew and they went over it time and time again, trying to squeeze every bit of information out of it, and so be forearmed to some extent when they came face to face with their supposed adversary.

Hans’s initial solution to the problem was to arm themselves to the teeth, and blast everything which looked like a threat into oblivion, but when it came to deciding what physically constituted a threat, he had to revise his ideas somewhat.

The team decided that after they had landed they would go to the valley bottom, and if they hadn’t been obliterated by then, try to get a radio controlled ‘explorer’ into the hole in the rock. But after that it all depended on how successful the ‘explorer’ was, and what they found out, if anything.

When the ship was almost three quarters the way to Mars, and the deceleration process was about to begin, they received a call from Earth with a startling piece of news, or so they thought at the time.

What Earth’s scientists thought might have been a piece of bone which had been retrieved during a mechanical probe’s foraging about on an earlier mission, finally yielded up what was thought to be a fragment of DNA.

After the excitement had died down to a point where rational thinking could take place again, it was discovered that the DNA pattern was virtually the same as that to be found on Earth, the general conclusion being that the sample had somehow got contaminated during the investigation, so no one bothered to look any deeper into the matter.

‘I think it must have been contamination.’ said Greg. ‘When you consider that the temperature on Mars is only up to freezing point on a good day, and down to minus one hundred centigrade at other times. This would mean that any life there must have been a very, very long time ago, when the planet was a lot warmer. I don’t see how DNA would remain viable that long in such a hostile environment.’

‘But just suppose it did survive, look at what that might infer.’ Paul was getting excited at the prospect.

‘I think the contamination theory is far more likely, and that’s why nothing was found before.’ Ben couldn’t resist joining in, if only to keep the argument going. It was at least, something new to talk about.

It was several hours later when the crew retired for a well earned rest, having exhausted all possibilities of the DNA theory, and what could or would be inferred were it genuine.

During the deepest part of their slumbers, something gave the ship a gentle nudge, not quite heavy enough to trigger any of the sensors and so leave a record of its visit, but a light and delicate contact had been made just the same.

Something, somewhere, now knew visitors were on their way, and would be ready and waiting when they arrived.