Authors: Jeremy Robinson
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On the trip down from the Surveyor to Europa's surface, Peterson had felt a little apprehensive. He remembered what happened to Benson. The fear in his eyes. The voices he heard before dying. Convulsions. Blindness. Bleeding. All of it in just seconds. But once he had set foot on the moon, he became more relaxed. The beauty of the place usurped all his fears.
Until Choi hit the gas. For three minutes now, she'd been weaving back and forth, dodging ice heaves, taking corners at breakneck speeds, and sending the ATV catapulting in the air as the bounced over rises in the ice.
His immediate protest was met with quick, "Testing the limits of the ATV. Just hold on."
As they headed toward a steep rise in the ice, Peterson decided it would be best to close his eyes. He knew the PMS suit couldn't be torn open and the mask could reseal, but that wouldn't stop an impact from breaking his bones. As they neared the rise, Peterson closed his eyes. He could feel the ATV moving. It's rumbling engine silently shook his torso. Then they hit the steep rise, moving up at rollercoaster speed, Peterson prepared to feel the surface of the moon disappear, and then, maybe a minute later, they would crash back down to the ice and tend to their wounds.
But rather than moving up and out, Peterson suddenly felt himself jam forward into Choi's back. He heard her grunt in his headset. Then they were stopped.
Peterson hopped off the ATV and glared at Choi. "What the hell is wrong with you, Choi? First you try to kill us by driving like a madman and then you try to break my neck by hitting the brakes!"
Choi was motionless.
"Hello? I'm talking here…Choi…Choi?" Peterson studied the expression on her face. She looked dumbfounded. "What's wrong?"
Choi's raised her arm and pointed straight out.
Peterson felt a sudden twist in his stomach. Peterson followed Choi's extended finger and found himself gazing out over a wide valley. His mind went blank and he could swear he felt himself floating out of his body. What he was seeing was totally, utterly, unreal.
After an entire minute of staring, he turned to Choi as she turned to him. Their eyes locked.
Choi spoke slowly. "They…they look—"
Peterson finished her thought.
"Alive."
The agonizing slowness of TES's descent began to drive Robert crazy. He'd been pacing for a half hour and was starting to feel his muscles twitch. He paused his slow motion pace and shook out his arms. "I can't take this," he said. "How much longer?"
"No way to know," Connelly said as she hovered over the TES control panel, watching for the slightest change in the status display. "Not until we break through."
"If there's water at all," Robert said.
Willard looked up from the nearby TES panel, where he'd been lying down, enjoying the view. "What do you mean,
if
?"
Robert felt the urge to adjust his glasses, but they were unreachable behind his mask. "There's, ah, no guarantee we're going to find water. Science says there is water beneath the ice, but science has been wrong before."
"What about all this ice?" Willard asked. "If there's ice there's water."
"Now he's a scientist," Robert said with a chuckle. "Ice, technically speaking, is frozen water. But frozen water cannot support life…as we know it. And since this is a search for life, we need to find water of the non-frozen variety."
"But the guys at the GEC—"
"They're placing bets," Robert said. Robert knew that most scientists were also great gamblers. They pegged a theory, backed it up with original thinking, found proof that supported their hypothesis and then did the leg work, proving the theory correct. They were at the final stage in this process, final proof. Robert looked to Connelly, "You can explain it."
Willard bounced toward them and stopped next to Connelly at the control panel. Connelly took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing her first words to merge with her breath half way through. "There are several theories for how water might be warmed beneath the ice of Europa's surface; tidal flexing caused by Jupiter's gravitational pull, thermal venting, a molten core. The list goes on. But until someone drills a hole in the ice and sees the water for themselves, it's all just theory."
"Like the Big Bang," Willard said.
"Precisely," Robert added with a raised finger. "We've found all kinds of evidence that supports the theory, but it has never been more than that."
"Guys…"
Robert was about to launch into the history of the science versus religion debate and didn't even register Connelly's voice. "Now, if you recall—"
"Robert." Connelly's voice was firm this time and captured Robert's attention.
Looking at Connelly, Robert could see her muscles were tense, even through the PMS suit. Her hands held firm grips on the sides of the control panel.
"What is it?" Robert asked as he bumbled toward the panel.
Willard looked over Connelly's shoulder. "Something's coming through."
Robert stopped next to Connelly and looked at the display screen. Numbers were scrolling across the screen as the system analyzed the new information.
"What's it doing?" Willard asked.
"Receiving data," Connelly replied.
"Did it find something?"
Robert looked over at Willard with nervous eyes. "That, or it malfunctioned and is reporting the problem."
All three pairs of eyes were glued to the screen. The text began to transform into words. It displayed one line at a time.
EVENT REPORT
DESCENT CEASED
DEPTH — 01.534 MILES
CAUSE — NEW SURFACE LOCATED
ANALYZING...
ANALYZING...
ANALYZING...
ANALYZING...
TEMPERATURE – 55 DEGREES FARENHEIT
CONFIRMATION – LIQUID WATER DETECTED
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"Do you realize what this is?" Peterson said, as he bent down at the edge of their earth-shattering discovery. The view before him was one hundred percent alien to Earth, yet Peterson, Choi and a few other GEC employees had seen cell samples taken from a meteorite that crashed in the arctic and killed Benson. He hadn't seen them at full size, but the red coloration and maroon soil was identical.
Choi looked at Peterson, her eyes wide. "Is this..."
Peterson nodded. "This is it. From the meteorite. This is it."
He stood to his feet and took in the unbelievable view for the second time. Spread out before him was a field, an endless field of red, gelatinous cucumber-like plants. Bunched in small groups of three to seven, they stood erect like tight clusters of crimson bowling pins. As though pushed by a nonexistent wind, they slowly danced from side to side, shimmering in the light cast by the distant sun.
Turning his head from side to side, Peterson realized that the entire expanse, which was miles long and hundreds of yards across was covered with the red organisms. They weren't just surviving on the surface of a frozen, radiation-doused moon that had the thinnest imaginable atmosphere, they were thriving!
Peterson hopped to the ATV's trailer and opened a hatch on the back.
"What are you doing?" Choi asked, crossing her arms.
"Getting samples."
"I don't have to remind you what a small amount of this material did to your crew member."
"Benson ingested it; took it into his body. I have no intention of repeating his mistake or allowing anyone else to do the same. You built the fail-safes in the lab yourself." Peterson took a small shovel and a glass canister out of the trailer and headed back to the red field. "This is what we came here for, Choi. It's why you're here."
Choi loosed her crossed arms. "If I sense anything is going wrong, even for a second, we get rid of it."
Peterson paused by the field, prepared to strike the ice. He glanced at Choi briefly, then looked back to the nearest patch of red organisms and raised the shovel up. Before he could swing the shovel down and pierce the ice, Choi had his arm locked in her grip. He starred at her defiantly. "Hey."
"The GEC gave me full authority to pull the plug on this entire mission if I thought there was a risk of infection. You're here to collect and study rocks. You answer to me. Am I clear?" Choi let go of his arm.
Peterson stabbed the shovel into the ice, just in front of the nearest patch of red cucumbers. "Crystal," he said. "Now if you'll give me some room I'd like to—" Peterson pushed down on the handle, raising the shovel up and yanking a portion of the organisms away from the field, snapping what appeared to be roots. The action caused a chain reaction. Like a shockwave, moving out from the fresh wound, the rest of the field bowed in the opposite direction, like ripples on a pond. It happened so quickly that Peterson hardly had time to register what he'd seen. "Did you see that?"
"Are you trying to change the subject?"
"No…" Peterson poured the sample he'd taken into the glass canister, turned back to the field and stabbed the shovel in a second time. Nothing happened.
Peterson pulled the sample up, again snapping the roots. Still nothing happened. Peterson sighed. "Must have been seeing things." Peterson placed the second sample into the canister.
Choi slid the cover onto the canister and sealed it. "I think that's enough."
Peterson smiled. "You should learn how to relax." He picked up the canister and carried it back to the trailer. "I think when the GEC learns what we've discovered, the balance of power is going to shift. No offense. Really. I think you need to be here, but this mission is about one thing and one thing only."
"And what is that?"
Peterson replaced the shovel and locked down the trailer. "Life."
"I suppose then, that the GEC and you should ask the question. Now that alien life has been discovered, what is more valuable?" Choi swept her hand out toward the sea of red. "Alien life, or human life?"
Peterson eyed the passenger's seat with apprehension. He didn't want another roller coaster ride. Moving as quickly as he could, Peterson bounced to the front of the ATV and hopped onto the driver's seat. He looked over at Choi and patted the passenger's seat, motioning for her to get on. She frowned and moved toward the seat.
"Choi," Peterson said. "They're little red cucumbers… If we don't eat or breathe them, what's the worst they could do?"
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Connelly felt her knees shaking as she inched towards the edge of the newly formed, mile and a half deep hole in Europa's surface. She peered over the edge. The vertical tunnel stretched down for one-hundred feet where it met the water that rose up from the ocean surface. "Why is the water so high?"
Robert looked over the edge. "It's like a giant straw. The water pressure below is pushing it up until its weight, which is greatly reduced on Europa, balances the force. The same thing happens when you put a straw in a glass of water—the liquid rises higher in the straw. If not for TES's heated cables keeping the water warm, it would have already begun to refreeze and reseal the whole. Wounds in the surface must fill and freeze very quickly."
Connelly felt a wave of dizziness warble through her mind. She leaned away from the edge.
"Careful near that edge, boss." Willard said
Connelly turned to Willard, who was standing a few feet back, checking the time on his wrist display. "Aren't I always?" She wondered if her nervousness showed through her shaky voice. She couldn't tell.
"Astounding," Robert said. He was looking down, into the void, shaking his head. "Can you believe this worked? I mean, I, ah, I knew it would work…but on a moon?"
Connelly knew exactly how he felt. TES had been her life's work and she had always pictured this day, the moment when TES would be deployed, melt through the ice and discover alien life. But she had always pictured it taking place in the Antarctic. They would cheer over some hot chocolate, vid-phone some colleagues and go back to work. But here, on Europa, the sensation was very different. TES, while a true achievement seemed insignificant to their current surroundings. Connelly felt as though her dream now realized had become cheapened by Europa, and while she couldn't deny the stunning success and wonderment of it all, she was beginning to resent Jupiter and all her moons.
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news," Willard said, "but we haven't heard from Choi or Peterson this entire time. Am I wrong, or did she say to check in every half hour?"
Robert's forehead became crinkled. "No…you're right." Robert looked at his wrist display. "And it's been almost two."