The Rocket Scientist

Chapter One: Curiosity 2

Jet Propulsion Laboratory,

Mission Control Center, November 2030

JPL’s Mission Control room buzzed with anticipation. Standing before her wall-sized monitor, Dr. Julie McCray, Director of Mars Programs, stared at the blank screen soon to be teeming with images of the Martian morning. She commanded NASA’s most ambitious project, finding life on Mars. But two frustrating weeks had passed with no results, shaking her confidence.

Julie hoped today her SUV-sized rover, Curiosity 2, would discover the microbes she knew flourished beneath the planet’s rocky surface. From their consoles, the scientists and engineers couldn’t see the worry lines etched on Julie’s face. Her manicured nails dug into her side. Why can’t I find them?

The staff fell silent as Julie turned to address them. “Good morning, everyone. Sol 13.” Her blue eyes scanned each face as she spoke. “Today’s location is Grid 35, mid-Gale Crater, the heart of the ancient lakebed. Our AI analytics predict an 84.7 percent probability of finding organics there. This is our best chance.” Then she pointed to her Mission Director. “Wake up my boy, Franklin. Let’s make it happen.”

The twenty-nine-year-old project scientist wore a retro SpaceX tee shirt stamped with ‘Colonize Mars’ in tall white letters. “Transmitting instructions now, Director.”

Seven minutes later, Curiosity 2’s antenna snatched Julie’s encrypted commands from the cosmos. As the rover shifted from standby mode to active, its bionic eyes snapped open and scanned the orange-tinted terrain of the Martian dawn. C-2’s instrumentation lights flipped from yellow to green, and its sensors provided positional data to the navigation computer. Its six all-terrain wheels engaged, and the rover crept down Mt. Sharp’s steep grade to the basin floor below.

When C-2’s images flooded JPL’s main screen, Julie turned, transfixed, watching the rover’s powerful wheels engage, kicking up puffs of regolith, the red layer of rocky dust covering the crater’s surface. “What an amazing sight,” whispered Julie, stroking her late father’s gold cross necklace. But her fascination was short-lived. She needed to address a troubling email festering in her inbox, causing her to miss today’s crucial search.

Making her way up the aisle, Julie leaned over Franklin’s cubicle, her hands clenched at her sides. “Let’s hope our sensor adjustments do it this time. I know they’re in Grid 35.” Her shoulders dropped, and she whispered, “HQ’s demanding another budget revision.”

Franklin’s eyes darted up at her. “Not again.”

Julie saw his apprehension and grimaced. There were no more personnel to cut if she wanted to keep this mission going. It was already the smallest operations team she ever had. “I’ll keep us whole, Franklin. But we need to find them.” She gave him a weary smile. “Call me when C-2 gets the sample. I’m counting on you.”

“Will do, Boss.” He gave Julie an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Today’s the day.”

Julie’s eyes lingered on the Martian vistas before stepping out of Mission Control, her blonde ponytail swaying as she walked.

By late afternoon, the rover’s sophisticated sensor caught a whiff of methane gas seeping from underground. Its wheels locked, and the advanced computer calculated the precise extraction coordinates to capture any biologics lurking below. Then, the telescopic drill rose from inside C-2’s body, rotated, and extended onto the Martian surface. The high-speed bit created a mini-blast zone of pulverized rock and displaced terrain. Moments later, the mechanism raised the soil sample and inserted it into the chromatograph-mass spectrometer, scrutinizing it for the DNA of microbial life. When the scan finished, C-2 raised its high-frequency antenna and shot the findings back to the JPL.

Franklin picked up the phone and gave Julie the heads-up. She rushed into Mission Control and parked behind him, her heart thumping with hope. “Come on, C-2. Be the one.”

“Computer’s decoding now,” Franklin said. “Just a few more seconds.”

Closing her eyes, Julie clutched her gold cross until she heard Franklin’s gasp.

“No!” He slammed his fist on the console. “It’s another duster.”

The words pierced Julie like icy daggers and her head dropped, fighting the crushing disappointment. What am I doing wrong? Groans from the staff echoed throughout the room. Before she could respond, Franklin leaned back and whispered so the rest couldn’t hear. “Director, there are only a few prime sites left. What should we do?”

Staring at the stationary rover’s image on the screen, Julie folded her arms across her chest, her methodical brain assessing the situation. “I know the methane’s right,” she muttered to him. “Must be the search criteria. I’ll figure it out tonight.” Julie pried her focus from the Martian images. “Move C-2 over to Grid 36 for me. I’m heading home.” She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thanks for your help today. See you tomorrow.”

Walking across the lobby, Julie activated the car app on her phone. A red alert flashed across her screen: ‘Warning! Heat index 113.’ She tapped the max air button and continued to her office. After responding to a few emails, she packed her briefcase and waited for her car’s interior to become habitable. When the app signaled 75 degrees, she strapped on her government-issued breathing mask and steeled herself for the harsh conditions awaiting her in the parking lot.

The acrid smell of gray, polluted air filled her nostrils. Waves of heat rising from the baked asphalt penetrated the soles of her running shoes. When Julie reached her EV Subaru wagon, sweat streamed down her back, creating dark streaks on her blue cotton shirt. Unplugging the car from the charging station, Julie climbed inside. She leaned toward the vent, letting the micro-filtered cool air blast across her face. Refreshed, she switched on the motor, and the radio news blared through the car’s speakers. She paused to listen.

“President Martha Jennings and the leaders of the ‘Top Nine’ polluting countries agreed to the Climate Initiative today, an emergency plan to slash Earth’s accelerating temperature propelled by the many volcanic eruptions over the …”

An incoming call silenced the announcer. The ID displayed Michael Boxman. Julie’s stomach tightened, anticipating the NASA Administrator’s concern. “Hello, Doctor Boxman, it’s…

“What’s today’s report, Dr. McCray? Find’em yet?”

“Not yet, but Curiosity’s performing great. I know we’ll…”

“Look, I know you’re doing your best, but there’s no way to sugarcoat this. Jennings wanted your budget for her Climate Initiative, but I bought you a little time.”

“President Jennings? I thought you were calling about my budget submission.”

“That too. I’m shelving it and closing out the Jupiter mission instead.”

“Why the reprieve?”

“You’re my brightest astrophysicist and NASA needs a win. I’m desperate and our Mars mission is the best chance we have. So, find those microbes. I can’t hold her off for long.” Click.

Julie stared out the windshield, feeling both relief and urgency from Boxman’s call. She appreciated his continued support. He fast-tracked her up the ranks, recognizing her talents, even passing those with more seniority. But Earth’s crisis made funding space exploration unpopular, and Boxman needed a success story to hold off the politicians. He wants me to save NASA.

She leaned back against the headrest, her damp shirt clinging to her skin. She thought about all the bureaucratic and technical hurdles she had overcome, and finally, after six years, her rover was exploring Mars. But now, President Jennings wanted to take her historic mission away. I can’t let that happen. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she gave herself a determined stare, put the gearshift into drive, and spun out of the parking lot.

***

Julie unlocked the door to her one-bedroom condo. Waiting for her on the entranceway rug was Gizmo, her orange and white Persian cat. His soft purring and welcoming meow eased the tension she carried from the Boxman conversation. She scooped him up and smiled as his scratchy tongue scraped against her cheek. “Hi, buddy. Let’s go into the kitchen. I need an emergency wine.” Walking past her bare walls, she set her computer on the counter and poured a small glass of buttery chardonnay. She took a long, savoring drink, grabbed a ready-made meal from the refrigerator, and slid it into the microwave.

After a quick water-saving shower, Julie strolled back into the kitchen, feeling refreshed, her damp hair hanging limp on her shoulders. She fed Gizmo, and when the microwave dinged, she placed the pasta on the counter beside her laptop. Stabbing her fork into her mindless meal, Julie booted up her computer with renewed determination. Time to fix this.

She typed in the commands engaging her mission’s AI analytics and arranged a series of trials, manipulating key variable combinations collected from C-2’s thirteen days of exploring. Hours dragged on, leading only to maddening dead ends. She stared up at the ceiling.

“I’m getting nowhere, Giz. No matter what I try, the program spits out the same search criteria.” She closed her laptop. “Going to be another long night but right now, my brain needs a break.” She brewed some tea and retreated to the soft leather sectional in the living room, perforated with Gizmo’s claw marks. He trotted behind and hopped up next to her. “Let’s watch The Martian. Matt Damon always cheers me up.” She stretched her legs on the ottoman and selected the movie from her YouTube library.

Julie eased into the plush cushions and took a sip of her Lavender brew, its warmth and fragrant aroma calming her. “C-2’s performing so well. He’s dependable, just like you.” Stroking Giz’s head, she fast-forwarded to her favorite scenes.

Soon Julie laughed, giving her a brief reprieve from her Mars dilemma. “Look, here’s where he blows himself up. He forgot about the oxygen he exhaled and ... Wait.” She sprang off the sofa and paced around the living room, her heart racing with newfound hope. “That’s the key… Think…” After another two laps, she stopped and slapped her thigh. “It’s the subsurface ice particles.” Chest heaving, Julie grabbed her phone and called Dr. Marge Jamison, her number two, supervising the night shift.

When she answered, Julie gasped, “I know how to find ‘em, Marge. It’s the chlorates. Pair them with the methane. Where there’s both is where we’ll dig.”

“But Julie, C-2 doesn’t have the instrumentation.”

“I know. That’s why we missed it. Program the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter and have it scan the Gale Crater.”

“Ya know, two of us could bang this out a lot faster.”

Julie grinned. “I’m on my way. Call in Franklin, too.” After hanging up, her gaze drifted to her barren ring finger. I’m taking him from his new husband again. A familiar argument with its lingering guilt seeped in from her memory. Julie hung her head. I’m the bad boss now.

***

Back in Mission Control, Julie and Marge reconfigured the MRO and sent instructions to probe Grid 36. When they received the chlorates data, their AI program recalculated the search coordinates, and Franklin transmitted them to C-2. Fifteen minutes later, they watched with renewed optimism as C-2 journeyed to the nearby hot spot and retrieved the sample.

Franklin leaned back in his chair. “Hey, while we’re waiting, fill me in. What’s the deal with the chlorates? I’m not much of a chem head.”

“Sure,” said Julie. “Concentrations of salts, particularly chlorates, mix with other minerals, creating a chemical reaction generating heat. This liquefies the subsurface ice particles, and the resulting brine is similar to ocean water.”

“Cool,” said Franklin. “Why didn’t we figure this out before?”

“Instrumentation limits on C-2. Thought the methane sensor would be enough,” said Julie. “My mistake.”

“The chlorate variable is brilliant. How’d you come up with that anyway?” asked Marge.

“When Matt Damon exhaled ….”

Marge and Franklin burst out laughing. “Watching The Martian, again?” Marge teased.

“He’s inspirational. Never gives up.” Julie shrugged and motioned for Marge to step to the back row. Julie slipped her hands into her jeans pockets and leaned close to Marge.

“These have got to be the right variables,” she whispered, her voice tense.

Marge’s forehead wrinkled. “You’re not convinced? What’s going on?”

Julie stared down at her feet. “Boxman told me if we don’t find the microbes soon, President Jennings will grab our funds.” Then she locked eyes with her colleague. “The President, Marge. If I’m wrong, it’s mission over. And our dreams along with it.”

She grasped Julie’s elbow. “Look, if this sample comes up negative, we’ll analyze the data, and you’ll come up with the right answer. Like always.”

A weak smile crossed Julie’s face. “Thanks. Appreciate the ...”

Franklin turned and waved. “Director, analysis is loading. Time to find out.” Julie swallowed hard as she and Marge hustled in behind him. “Please be it,” breathed Julie, her voice barely above a whisper. Marge put her arm around her. They both stood like statues, watching the data flood onto Franklin’s screen.

He spun around and yelled. “We’ve got them! We’ve got organics!”

Julie clenched her fists. “Yes! Finally!” Exuberance raced up her spine. She grinned at Marge and said, “Franklin, put the results on the main monitor. Everyone needs to see this.”

She bolted to the front of the control room. Three distinct bacterial DNA patterns exploded onto the giant screen, proving Julie's theory. Joyful tears flooded her eyes, and she gazed upward. “This is all because of you, Dad.”

The night staff leapt to their feet, yelling and embracing each other. Watching them revel in the moment, a wave of satisfaction swelled up inside her. When the pandemonium subsided, Julie raised her fist and boomed, “We did it! We’re the first to find life outside Earth. Thank you all so much. It’s a great day for science. Wow, I can hardly breathe.”

Her staff cheered her again as Julie caught her breath. Grinning, she held up her hand to quiet them. “Thank you. We’re now on communication lockdown until NASA tells us how they want to handle the announcement. Everyone got that?” Her team mumbled acknowledgment. “Good. Franklin and Marge, I need to see you in my office. We’ll be back in a few.”

The three scientists gathered around Julie’s conference table, all sporting radiant smiles. “Tell me how good this feels. We just made history,” beamed Julie. “And I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” She opened her office fridge and pulled out a bottle of Schramsberg. “I’ve been saving this for the day we proved Mars is a living planet.” Julie poured three glasses, the bubbly foam spilling over the sides.

“Six long years! Here’s to us,” toasted Julie. They clinked their glasses and took a sip.

“I have something to say, too,” said Marge, leaning in and raising her glass.

“Julie, with all the cuts, I don’t know how you convinced Boxman to approve the exploration phase, but we wouldn’t be here without you fighting for our mission.” They clinked and sipped again.

“Comes from my dad.” Julie touched her cross, her voice softening. “He told me never to stop chasing my dreams.” Her lips quivered. “He’s a part of this moment too.”

Marge raised her glass again. “Here’s to your dad.”

After finishing their drinks, Julie said, “Thanks, Marge. That was nice.” Then her tone became serious. “Okay, let’s get back to work. Franklin, secure the DNA data. Only Marge and I can have access. Then, identify the next sample sites. We’ll start there with the morning shift.”

“On it, boss,” said Franklin, and he spun out of the room. Julie pushed up from the table. “Time to tell Boxman. Can’t wait to hear his reaction.” She hovered over the phone with Marge next to her.

“Damn, McCray. What is it? It’s four AM.”

“We found life on Mars, Dr. Boxman.” Julie gushed, not able to contain herself.

“What? Did you say… Hold it. You have absolute proof?

Julie gave Marge a knowing look. “Yes, Dr. Boxman. It’s definitive.”

“Thank God. Congratulations, Dr. McCray. I knew you could do it. Now, lockdown communication and retrieve more samples. We’ll need robust findings no one can dispute. That’s when we’ll tell the world. It’s the greatest discovery in NASA history. The publicity will get us the funding we need. Call me when you have them. Again, great work.” He hung up.

“Wow. That felt so good,” Julie said, grinning at Marge. “Let’s write the press release.” The two scientists dove into their task, wordsmithing back and forth when Julie’s office door flung open, and an intern barged in.

“Dr. McCray,” she wheezed. “Franklin said come quick. There’s big trouble.”

Julie rushed into Mission Control. Her heart sank when she saw the blinking red emergency lights and “Loss of Signal” flashing across the blank main screen.

Julie approached Franklin, hunched over his computer. “What happened?”

He looked up, his voice trembling. “C-2 stopped functioning. I initiated an emergency reboot. But…” He winced, and his shoulders sagged. “Curiosity’s dead.”