Destination Mars by Rod Pyle

problem either way; it would fill for sure!
    Then the sample arm jammed again. Oh, the thing had gotten some soil and begun to retract, but had stopped short of delivering the sample. Furthermore, it appeared to be unable to do any more work at all. This was not good.
    After studying the problem on a ground-based twin of the lander, technicians saw that the arm, as it flattened into a metalribbon, tended to kink-up under certain conditions. The incredibly ingenious design of the arm was its downfall. While the boom looked like a chrome pipe, it was actually constructed of a spring steel, not unlike a metal tape-measure. So, when retracted, the entire boom was wound onto a drum, flat like a ribbon. As it extended, it sprung back into shape as a tube and became rigid.
    They went back to the control room. A new set of commands were issued, carefully designed (a) to give the thing plenty of time to operate, slowly, and (b) to operate only in a specified temperature range (to avoid extreme cold), and (c) to pace the commands in such a way that the motor was given a chance to operate in the most reliable fashion. To everyone's relief, it worked (and later in the mission the temperature restrictions were removed, without drama). Finally, the samples they had so coveted were delivered where they needed to go. It was time for Viking to fulfill its destiny: to determine if life, or at least organic compounds, existed on Mars.
    Of course, this operation bumped up once again against the basic assumptions and philosophy of the mission designers. While everyone involved knew that looking in two fixed sites on a planet the size of Mars, grabbing random samples, and expecting to find something alive was a long shot, the press was not so shy. Expectations were high, and the pressure was immense.
    With soil delivered, the devices were triggered. Nutrients were squirted, water added, ovens fired, and measurements taken; all with the greatest of care. What would the result be?
    The soil samples were baking, the machines measuring. These samples had be selected with the greatest of care, as scientists would analyze images from the lander of surrounding terrain, pick an area, and carefully scoop up some soil. They even had the arm push a rock or two aside to expose “virgin” soil beneath, relatively unaffected by the sun and wind, and took a sample from there. It was painstaking work, and the science team was understandably anxious. Optimism on the part of these people ran the gamut from “I think we will find something” to “I feel itextremely unlikely…” (note the profound reserve inherent in the statements). But in their hearts, all those involved wanted the same thing: a strong indication of some kind of biological activity.
    And then, faster than anyone anticipated, results were in. The signs of life were bubbling up inside the ovens and wetted sample containers. It seemed almost too good to be true!
    There were, you will recall, three life-science experiments (the fourth such device, the Gas Chromatograph/Mass Spectrometer, was actually proficient at finding any organic materials, living or not). First, the Gas-Exchange experiment would indicate signs of living metabolism if microbes in the sample were flourishing inside its container and the enclosed environs. Second, the Labeled-Release experiment would measure decomposed organic waste if the microbes fed on the nutrient solution added to the sample. Third, the Pyrolitic-Release experiment would detect gases released from any synthesis of organic compounds in the soil.
    And just like that, in that order, the dominoes fell. The Gas-Exchange experiment showed a buildup in pressure, a sign of activity within. Then the Labeled-Release experiment demonstrated a radioactive signal, seeming to indicate that something in the soil had metabolized and released the radioactively labeled gas. Finally, the Pyrolitic-Release experiment gave readings as well. The problem was that the readings