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The first human
trip to Mars was seen as the most important event in history. Funded by a coalition of nations to set down
near the southern most patch of ice that had been located by previous satellite
missions in a space craft that was the largest ever constructed.
It was an
accomplishment, spectacle, and dream all at once.
Drifting
thru the space between worlds observations of the sun and the stars were conducted
and every aspect of the landing was discussed again and again. Every part of it was down in their
minds. When it came time for their little
science orchestra to play, they would hit every note.
They were
smart, brave, and heroic. All the things
you would want the rest of earth to aspire to.
They
orbited Mars, gazing at the tiny moons and letting out little pods to gaze down
on them, to await their return to the main ship in a matter of weeks. Bits of the ship that had been packed for months
snapped off and drifted down to the planet, some piloted by the crew, some
trusted to land near enough to the target sight to be picked up later.
The landing
was gentle, measured, and went off without a hitch. The work back home and on the way had all come
together.
The first
walk out on the red planet was done with suits made for the mission, carrying
tools created for their experiments, in vehicles designed for the area. They took photos and video of each member of
the crew standing on the edge of a glacier dozens of acres wide and along dry
river beds hundreds of miles long.
The world
was unspoiled, beautiful, and scary in a way that none of them never would have
anticipated.
It was in
the caves that they found it. Where they
found them. Bones. Human bones.
They were wearing a suit that had been made for the mission. They held in their hand a tool that had been
used to leave a message on the wall.
“It is
happening again.”
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