The Rocket Scientist
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Chapter One: Curiosity 2
Jet Propulsion Laboratory,
Mission Control Center, November 2028
Dr. Julie McCray, the thirty-three-year-old Director of Mars Programs, stood with hands on her hips, fixated on the blank, wall-sized monitor soon to be teeming with images of the Martian morning. Her manicured nails drummed against her blue jeans. “Something’s not right,” she mumbled. The scientists and engineers sitting behind her couldn’t see the worry lines etched on her face. After twenty-two Martian days, Curiosity 2, an SUV-sized rover, had yet to prove Julie’s theory that microbial life flourished underneath the planet’s rocky surface.
She designed every feature of C-2, arming it with powerful sensors, spectrometers, and a soil-penetrating drill. The robotic explorer confined its search to the Gale Crater, home of a large ancient lake where abundant water once flowed. Julie frowned. “Should have found at least traces by now.”
She activated the terrain map on the main screen and turned to her staff. “Good morning, everyone. Sol 23.” Her blue eyes scanned each face as she spoke. “Today’s location is Grid 35. It’s a treacherous journey from Mt. Sharp, but our AI analytics calculate an 84.7 percent probability of finding organics there.” Julie illuminated a section with her laser pointer. “This portion is steep next to a deep crevasse, so stay focused.” Then she nodded to her Mission Director. “Wake up my boy, Franklin. Let’s go.”
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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 out of the cosmos. 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 delivered positional data to the navigation computer. Its six all-terrain wheels engaged, and the rover crept down the steep grade toward Grid 35 on the basin floor below.
After another seven minutes, C-2’s images flooded JPL’s main screen. The rover’s powerful wheels kicked up puffs of regolith, the red layer of broken rock and dust covering the crater’s surface. “What a beautiful sight,” whispered Julie, stroking the gold cross necklace her father gave her before he passed away.
She approached her Mission Director and leaned over his cubicle, “35’s a strong fit. They have to be there, Franklin.” She sighed. “Going to be locked in my office. HQ’s demanding another budget revision. Call me when C-2 gets the sample.”
“Will do, Boss.”
Julie’s eyes lingered on the Martian vistas before turning quickly toward her office, her blond ponytail whipping around in response.
Late in the 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 soil.
Moments later, the mechanism raised the soil sample and inserted it into the chromatograph-mass spectrometer, scrutinizing it for the DNA of organic 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, “Sample coming in, Director.”
Julie rushed into Mission Control donning her headset, and parked herself behind Franklin, her heart thumping with hope. “Come on, C-2. Be the one”
“Computer’s decoding now,” Franklin said. “Just a few more seconds.”
Julie closed her eyes and clutched her gold cross.
Franklin slammed his fist on the console. “Dammit. Another duster, Director.”
The words pierced Julie like icy daggers. She grimaced and shook her head. Franklin leaned back and whispered so the rest couldn’t hear. “Julie, there’re only two prime sites left. What should we do?”
Julie’s eyes narrowed, staring at the rover’s image on the screen. “Search criteria’s off. I’m missing a variable,” she mumbled. “I’ll fix the analytics tonight.” Julie pried her focus from the Martian images and looked at Franklin. “Move C-2 over to Grid 36. I’m heading home.” She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “See you tomorrow.”
Julie strode into JPL’s main lobby but stopped short when her phone buzzed and flashed an alert: Warning! Heat index 113 degrees. She clicked on her car app, tapped the max air button, and waited until the interior reached 75 before strapping on her government-issued breathing mask. She opened the door and hustled into the parking lot.
The acrid smell of the gray polluted air filled her nostrils, and the waves of heat rising from the baked asphalt penetrated the soles of her running shoes, roasting her toes. By the time Julie reached her EV Subaru wagon, sweat streamed down her back, creating long dark streaks on her blue cotton shirt. She unplugged the car from the charging station and climbed inside, causing the AC to click on. 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.
“President Martha Jennings and the leaders of the ‘Top Nine’ polluting countries signed off on the Climate Initiative designed to bring down Earth’s soaring temperature…”
An incoming call silenced the announcer. The ID displayed Michael Boxman. Julie’s stomach tightened as her fingers strangled the steering wheel, dreading another predictable conversation with the NASA Administrator. She mouthed the word ‘shit’ before connecting the call. “Hello, Doctor Boxman, it’s…
“What’s today’s report, McCray?” he snapped. “Find’em yet?”
“Not yet, but Curiosity’s performing great. I know we’ll…”
“You promised me results with that Mars theory of yours. Now Jennings wants your budget. Thinks the mission’s a lost cause. I convinced her you were close. Bought you a little time. Don’t make me look stupid.” Click.
Julie’s jaws clenched, and she slapped her hand against the steering wheel. “Jerk.” She leaned back against the headrest, closed her eyes, and took several calming breaths. When her heart rate slowed, she glared at herself in the rearview mirror. “I’m no fucking lost cause.” Then slammed the gearshift into drive and ripped out of the parking lot.
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***
Julie unlocked the door to her one-bedroom condo. There sat Gizmo, her orange and white Persian cat, waiting on the entrance-way rug. She picked him up and gave him a hug. “Hi, buddy. Let’s go into the kitchen. I need an emergency wine.” She set her computer on the counter and poured herself a generous glass of buttery chardonnay. After taking a long drink, she grabbed a ready-made meal from the refrigerator and slid it into the microwave. “Dinner’s in five, Giz. I’m going to take a quick shower first.”
Julie traipsed into the bedroom, undressed, and tossed her sweaty clothes into the hamper. Taking off her earrings, she opened the jewelry case resting on top of the dresser. Her abandoned wedding ring stared up at her and her spine stiffened. Julie tossed in her diamond stud earrings and slammed down the lid.
After a quick water-saving shower, Julie marched into the kitchen wearing a white bathrobe and drying her long blonde hair. She filled Gizmo’s dish and set it on the floor. Then she pulled her pasta from the microwave and placed it on the counter beside her laptop. Gizmo curled up on the other side. Julie patted him, stabbed her fork into her mindless meal, and booted up her computer. “Time to fix this, Giz.”
Julie typed several commands engaging her mission’s AI analytics. She set up a series of trials, each manipulating key variable combinations from C-2’s twenty-three days of exploring. Fruitless hours later, Julie stared at the ceiling and exhaled.
“I’m getting nowhere, Giz. No matter what I try, the program spits out the same search criteria.” She closed her laptop. “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. That always cheers me up.” She selected it from her YouTube library and pressed the play button.
Julie eased into the plush cushions, sipping on her Earl Gray. “At least C-2’s performing. He’s dependable just like you.” She stroked Giz’s head and fast-forwarded to her favorite scenes, starting with Matt Damon planting the potatoes with the clothespin on his nose.
After a while, Julie laughed, “Look, here’s where he blows himself up. He forgot about the oxygen he exhaled and ... Wait.” She pressed pause, bounced off the couch, and paced around the room. “That’s the key… Think…” After another two laps, she stopped. “It’s the subsurface ice particles.” Julie grabbed her phone and called Dr. Marge Jamison, her number two, supervising the night shift.
Her chest heaving, Julie gasped into the phone. “Marge, I know how to find ‘em. 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. We’ll need to 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.”
***
Back in Mission Control, Julie and Marge reprogrammed the MRO and probed Grid 35. They added the new data to their AI program, which calculated revised search coordinates. Franklin transmitted them to C-2, and fifteen minutes later, they watched their rover journey to the new hot spot and retrieve the soil 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.”
“Concentrations of salts, particularly chlorates, mix with other minerals, creating a chemical reaction generating heat,” Julie said. “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 would be enough,” said Julie. “My mistake.”
“How’d you come up with the chlorates?” asked Marge.
“Matt Damon. Anyway…”
Marge and Franklin laughed. “Watching the Martian, again?” Marge teased.
Julie shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway Marge, let’s chat for a moment.” They stepped to the back row. Julie folded her arms across her chest and faced her scientist friend.
“Chlorates and methane have got to be the right variables, Marge.”
Marge’s forehead wrinkled. “You don’t sound convinced. What’s going on?”
Julie stared down at her feet. “All these years. All the sacrifices we made. What if I’m wrong?” She sighed. “Boxman told me if we don’t find the microbes soon, he’ll give our funds to Jennings. Mission over. And our dreams along with it.”
Marge grasped Julie’s elbow. “Look, if this sample comes up negative, we’ll all scramble around and you’ll devise a brilliant idea to fix it. Just like always. We have faith in you. And, fuck Boxman.”
A weak smile crossed Julie’s face. “Thanks, Marge. I needed some reassurance.”
Marge’s eyebrows shot up. “You? What happened?”
“Boxman also told me the President thinks our mission’s a failure. Kind of hit me.”
“Boxman.” Marge shook her head. “Do you think he was telling you the truth?”
Franklin turned and waived. “Hey, analysis is loading. Time to find out.” Julie and Marge hustled behind him.
“Please be it,” whispered Julie.
As the results flooded Franklin’s screen, he spun around and beamed. “We’ve got them! We’ve got organics!”
Julie’s head and shoulders dropped, then she grinned at Marge. “Put the data on the main monitor, Franklin. Everyone needs to see this.”
Julie bolted down to the front of the control room. Three distinct bacterial DNA patterns exploded onto the giant screen giving Julie the proof she needed. Tears flooded her eyes and she gazed upward, caressing her cross. “This is all because of you, Dad.”
The night staff leaped to their feet, yelling and embracing each other. When the pandemonium subsided, Julie raised her fists and yelled, “We did it! We’re the first to find life outside Earth. Thank you all so much. What a great day for science. Wow, I can hardly breathe.”
Julie paused, taking in a few deep breaths, then stood erect and smiled at her team. “Okay, 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 the conference table. “I couldn’t have done this without your hard work. Thank you,” said Julie, opening her office fridge. “I’ve been saving this just for today. We proved Mars is a living planet.” Julie pulled out a bottle of Schramsberg and 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. She leaned in and raised her glass again.
“Julie, 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. “He told me to chase my dreams and never give up.” Her voice quivered. “I owe it all to him.”
“Then here’s to your dad,” said Marge, and the three drained their glasses.
“Thanks, Marge,” she murmured. “Means a lot.” Then Julie cleared her throat. “Okay, we need to do a couple of next steps. Franklin, secure the DNA data. Only Marge and I can have access. We’ll run it by our astrobiologist this afternoon. Then identify the next sample sites. We’ll start there with the morning shift.”
Franklin nodded and left. Julie pushed up from the table and snickered. “Time to tell Boxman. After his call yesterday, I’m waking his ass out of bed.” Julie hovered over the phone with Marge next to her.
“Damn, McCray. What is it? It’s four fucking AM.”
“We found life on Mars, Dr. Boxman.”
“What? Did you say… Hold it. You have absolute proof?
She raised her eyebrows at Marge. “Yes, Dr. Boxman. It’s definitive.”
“Okay. Put a gag on your team. No emails, texts, nothing. I want more samples. We need robust findings no one can dispute. That’s when we’ll tell the world. The publicity will force the politicians to fund an expanded mission. Call me when you have them.” He hung up.
“That’s our boss,” Marge said. “Didn’t even think of congratulating us, did he?”
Julie scoffed. “Not for a second, but he’s right about the samples. I think…” Julie’s office door flew 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 seeing the red emergency lights flashing and the main screen blank, displaying only Loss of Signal.
Julie hurried to Franklin. He sat hunched over his computer. He looked up at Julie, his voice quaking. “C-2 stopped functioning. I did an emergency reboot. But…” He shook his head. “Curiosity’s dead.”
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