The Rocket Scientist

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Chapter One: Curiosity 2

Mission Control, Jet Propulsion Laboratory

November 2032

 

Julie hustled into the Jet Propulsion Lab’s (JPL) Mission Control Center, knowing she had to find them soon, especially now with Earth hurling toward chaos. The room full of engineers and scientists buzzed with anticipation as she took her position in front of the wall-sized monitor, soon to be teeming with images of the Martian morning. As Director of Mars Programs, Dr. Julie McCray commanded NASA’s most heralded project, finding life on Mars. However, for the past two weeks her SUV-sized rover, Curiosity 2, had failed to discover the elusive microbes she knew flourished beneath the planet’s rocky surface. 

 

As Director of Mars Programs, Dr. Julie McCray commanded NASA’s most heralded project, finding life on Mars. However, for the past two weeks her SUV-sized rover, Curiosity 2, had failed to discover the elusive microbes she believed flourished beneath the planet’s rocky surface. 

 

From their consoles, the staff couldn’t see the worry lines etched on Julie’s face. Her manicured nails dug into her side as she prepared to announce today’s tasking. Taking a deep breath, she turned to brief her team. 

 

“Good morning, everyone. Sol 13.” She smiled taking in each face as she spoke. “Our search quadrant today is Grid 35, mid-Gale Crater, the heart of the ancient lakebed. With the sensor adjustments we installed, the analytics predict an 87 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.”  

“Transmitting instructions now, Director,” said the twenty-nine-year-old scientist. He wore a T-shirt stamped with Colonize Mars in tall white letters. 

 

Julie checked her watch. In seven minutes, C-2’s antenna would receive her instructions, switching the rover from stand-by to active mode. Its bionic eyes would snap open and scan the orange-tinted terrain of the Martian dawn. Sensors would activate and provide positional data to the navigation computer preparing it for its journey down the steep grade of Mt. Sharp. 

 

When C-2’s images flooded the main screen, a hush fell over the room. Julie turned, transfixed, watching the rover’s massive wheels kick up puffs of regolith as it advanced down the mountain slope. 

 “What an amazing sight,” she whispered to herself, stroking her late father’s gold necklace. But her fascination was short-lived. A troubling email request from NASA HQ came that morning, needing her immediate attention.

Trudging her way up the aisle, Julie leaned over Franklin’s cubicle. “Let’s hope our changes do it this time. I knowthey’re in Grid 35.” Her shoulders dropped, and she whispered, “I’m heading to my office. 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 the mission going. 

“I’ll keep us whole, Franklin. But we have 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 the control room, her blonde ponytail swaying behind her as she veered toward her office.

***

It was late afternoon when Julie received Franklin’s call that the rover was in position to extract the sample. Julie rushed into Mission Control and positioned herself  behind Franklin. The main screen showed C-2’s wheels locked, its telescopic arm slowly rose from inside its body, rotated, and extended down to the Martian surface. Its high-speed drill began spinning, creating a mini-blast zone of pulverized rock.

 

“How are we doing, Franklin?” asked Julie.

“I have green lights across the board and sensors indicate a high concentration of methane.” 

Julie refocused on the screen. The drill mechanism raised the soil sample from below 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. 

 

“Analysis is on its way, Director. Looking good. Seven minutes and we’ll know.”

Julie right foot tapped out a high speed rhythm. “I hate this waiting. I’m going to check in with our astrobiologist. Be right back.”

Minutes later, Franklin’s voice came over Julie’s headset.   

“Computer’s decoding now,” Franklin said. “Just another minute.”

Julie hurried came up the aisle, her heart hammering in her chest. She stood next to Franklin and closed her eyes waiting for the verdict. Then she heard him gasp. 

 

“No! Dammit. It’s another duster.” 

The words pierced Julie like icy daggers. Dropping her head, she fought 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?” 

Julie folded her arms across her chest, staring at the rover’s image on the screen. “I know the methane sensor’s right,” she said. “Somehow the search criteria’s off. I’ll do a mission review tonight and see what we need to recalibrate.” 

 

Julie paused, her fingers massaging her chin. “Move C-2 over to Grid 36. I’m going to address the staff about today’s disappointment then I’m heading home. Going to figure this out.” She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thanks for your help today.”

 

After talking with her team, Julie shuffled across the lobby and activated the car app on her phone. The all too normal red alert flashed across the screen: “Warning! Heat index 117.” She tapped the max air button and continued to her office. S

She slouched at her desk, responded to the few lingering emails, then packed her briefcase for tonight’s analysis. When the car app signaled 75 degrees, she strapped on her government-issued breathing mask and steeled herself for the harsh conditions as she stepped out into the sweltering 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. By the time 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. The radio news blared through the car’s speakers. 

 

“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 several major volcanic eruptions over the …”

 

An incoming call silenced the announcer. The ID displayed Michael Boxman. Julie’s stomach tightened, anticipating the NASA Administrator’s inquiry. She licked her lips and pressed the answer button. “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. I didn’t cut any …”

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

Julie’s eyebrows lifted. “Great. Thank you, but why the reprieve?”

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

 

Julie stared out the windshield. She felt like one weight had been lifted off her shoulders but the pressure to succeed felt even heavier. She glanced at the briefcase containing her computer, knowing the solution lie inside if only she could unlock it. With her fingernails tapping the steering wheel, her thoughts shifted to Boxman’s budget move. He had recognized her talents and fast-tracked her up the ranks, passing those with more seniority. But Earth’s climate crisis made funding space exploration unpopular, and Boxman needed a success to hold off the politicians. He wants me to save NASA.

 

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the headrest, her damp shirt clinging to her skin. She thought about the hurdles she had overcome, and finally, after six years of challenging work, her rover was exploring Mars. But now, President Jennings wanted to snatch away her historic mission. Glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror, she gave herself a determined stare. Got to figure this out. She gritted her teeth 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 day’s disappointing search. 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, satisfying 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 chimed, she placed the steaming pasta on the counter beside her laptop. Stabbing her fork into her mindless meal, Julie booted up her computer with renewed determination.

She believed the search criteria led her rover to the wrong locations. So Julie engaged her mission’s AI analytics and arranged a series of trials, manipulating key variable combinations collected from C-2’s thirteen days of exploring. Gizmo hopped up on the counter and snuggled next to the computer. Julie petted him, took the last sip of her wine, and began her experiment. Over an hour later, her analytics revealed no new clues. She rubbed her neck and stretched.  

 

 “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 climbed into Julie’s lap. 

“Let’s watch The Martian. That always cheers me up.” She stretched her legs on the ottoman and selected it from her movie library.

Julie eased into the plush cushions and sipped her Lavender brew, with its soothing. “C-2’s performing so well. He’s dependable, just like you,” she said, stroking Giz’s head. 

Minutes into the movie, Julie laughed, giving her a brief respite from her Mars dilemma. “Look, here’s where he blows himself up. He forgot about the oxygen he exhaled and ... Wait.” She put Gizmo aside and paced around the living room, her heart racing. 

“Oxygen, of course … Think …” After another two laps, she stopped and slapped her thigh. “It’s the subsurface ice particles.” With fingers trembling, 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.” 

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Chapter Two: Realignment

JPL Mission Control

30 Minutes Later

 

Julie rushed to the JPL, where over the next hour, she and Marge reconfigured the MRO and sent instructions for the satellite to scan Grid 36. When the MRO beamed back the chlorate locations, their AI program recalculated new search coordinates. Franklin transmitted them to their rover. Fifteen minutes later, Julie watched with renewed optimism as C-2 journeyed to a 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,” said Marge. “How’d you come up with it?” 

“In The Martian, when ….” 

Marge and Franklin burst out laughing. “Watching that movie again?” Marge teased. 

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

“The chlorates have got to be it,” she whispered, her voice tense.

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

Julie stared 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,” 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 pumped 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 leaped to their feet, yelling and embracing each other. Watching them revel in the moment, a wave of satisfaction swelled inside Julie. When the pandemonium subsided, she 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 it?” 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. “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, 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. Then 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. The red warning lights flashed. She glanced at the main screen on her way to see Franklin, and her heart sank. ‘Loss of Signal’ scrolled across the blank screen. 

“What happened?” asked Julie, reaching his workstation.

Franklin sat frozen-like, staring at his computer. He looked up at Julie, his voice trembling. “C-2 stopped functioning. I initiated an emergency reboot. But …” He winced, shaking his head. “Curiosity’s dead.” 

                                                                                       

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