containing four bucket seats in which the
crew would be strapped during any navigation or propulsion changes. Surrounding
the seats, an array of computer screens and old-fashioned flick switches
covered every possible surface. Several
portable fire-extinguishers were fastened to the walls.
Whereas the other modules, with the exception
of the Hygiene Bay, were designed to be welcoming and friendly, using pastel
colours and soft lighting, the Command Module was exactly the opposite; from
its grey rivet-covered walls to the un-enticing control panels, entering the pod
felt like getting into a World War II submarine. It was designed for
functionality only, and doubled as the Clarke ’soptimistic emergency escape pod. Optimistic because everyone knew that
save for incredible good fortune, to enter the Command Module and leave the Clarke mid-mission was a one way ticket,
as if they did so at any appreciable distance from Earth, it simply couldn’t
sustain life for long enough to allow a rescue party to reach it.
A single, closed hatch left the Command
Module.
The final element of the Clarke interplanetary spaceship had been the subject of years of
debate and research between the participating nations: the Mars Lander Pod. The
MLP would be the first manned landing
craft ever to touchdown on another planet. Larger objects had been placed on
the surface of the Moon, but its lack of any substantially abrasive atmosphere
naturally meant that aerodynamics did not need to be factored in; any
sufficiently powered and controlled town house could be placed on the surface
of the Moon with relative ease. Only the relatively small return modules needed
to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere.
The MLP had eventually been developed as a
compromise between volume, mass and form. At thirty feet in diameter and ten feet tall, shaped like two shallow
soup bowls, one upside down on top of the other, it bore more than a passing
resemblance to a nineteen-fifties flying saucer. Despite this, its method of
entry into the Martian skies would be very conventional, sliding in like a
Frisbee at such an angle as to ensure friction did not destroy it, but not so
shallow as to cause it to bounce off the atmosphere and back into space.
Montreaux opened his eyes. His personal music player had stopped
shuffling through his favourites list, and the ship’s lighting had auto-dimmed,
which told him it was Nightmode. Glancing at his watch, he noted with interest
that he had been sleeping for nearly four hours. Lifting the headphones from his ears, he
listened intently for voices.
Silence, save for the gentle hum of the Clarke ’s air circulation system.
Although the ship was in Nightmode, thin
strips of light ran along the edges of his door, and along all of the
passageways outside it, throwing an eerie blue glow across his room. Looking
round in the dim light, he unclipped himself and moved carefully through the
door and into the Hygiene Bay.
The sound coming from Captain Marchenko’s
quarters was proof that it was possible to snore in zero gravity, and Montreaux
smiled as he headed for the Lounge.
He reached for a small sliding switch on the
inside of the connecting tunnel and the lights inside the Lounge turned on,
faintly at first, then more brightly, until it was bathed in a soft, day-like
warmth that reminded him of a summer afternoon in California. Were it not for the fact that he was now
floating three feet above the sofa, he could almost imagine he was there, on
the porch of the beach house, the sun touching his face gently.
“Couldn’t sleep, Sir?”
Due to the lack of gravity he didn’t so much
jump as contract in surprise. He also
couldn’t stop a small gasp of shock from leaving his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Su Ning
apologised.
He looked up and saw her, lying flat on the
ceiling, on her stomach, looking out of one of the Lounge’s four windows. Her
body and legs, held against the curved
crew would be strapped during any navigation or propulsion changes. Surrounding
the seats, an array of computer screens and old-fashioned flick switches
covered every possible surface. Several
portable fire-extinguishers were fastened to the walls.
Whereas the other modules, with the exception
of the Hygiene Bay, were designed to be welcoming and friendly, using pastel
colours and soft lighting, the Command Module was exactly the opposite; from
its grey rivet-covered walls to the un-enticing control panels, entering the pod
felt like getting into a World War II submarine. It was designed for
functionality only, and doubled as the Clarke ’soptimistic emergency escape pod. Optimistic because everyone knew that
save for incredible good fortune, to enter the Command Module and leave the Clarke mid-mission was a one way ticket,
as if they did so at any appreciable distance from Earth, it simply couldn’t
sustain life for long enough to allow a rescue party to reach it.
A single, closed hatch left the Command
Module.
The final element of the Clarke interplanetary spaceship had been the subject of years of
debate and research between the participating nations: the Mars Lander Pod. The
MLP would be the first manned landing
craft ever to touchdown on another planet. Larger objects had been placed on
the surface of the Moon, but its lack of any substantially abrasive atmosphere
naturally meant that aerodynamics did not need to be factored in; any
sufficiently powered and controlled town house could be placed on the surface
of the Moon with relative ease. Only the relatively small return modules needed
to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere.
The MLP had eventually been developed as a
compromise between volume, mass and form. At thirty feet in diameter and ten feet tall, shaped like two shallow
soup bowls, one upside down on top of the other, it bore more than a passing
resemblance to a nineteen-fifties flying saucer. Despite this, its method of
entry into the Martian skies would be very conventional, sliding in like a
Frisbee at such an angle as to ensure friction did not destroy it, but not so
shallow as to cause it to bounce off the atmosphere and back into space.
Montreaux opened his eyes. His personal music player had stopped
shuffling through his favourites list, and the ship’s lighting had auto-dimmed,
which told him it was Nightmode. Glancing at his watch, he noted with interest
that he had been sleeping for nearly four hours. Lifting the headphones from his ears, he
listened intently for voices.
Silence, save for the gentle hum of the Clarke ’s air circulation system.
Although the ship was in Nightmode, thin
strips of light ran along the edges of his door, and along all of the
passageways outside it, throwing an eerie blue glow across his room. Looking
round in the dim light, he unclipped himself and moved carefully through the
door and into the Hygiene Bay.
The sound coming from Captain Marchenko’s
quarters was proof that it was possible to snore in zero gravity, and Montreaux
smiled as he headed for the Lounge.
He reached for a small sliding switch on the
inside of the connecting tunnel and the lights inside the Lounge turned on,
faintly at first, then more brightly, until it was bathed in a soft, day-like
warmth that reminded him of a summer afternoon in California. Were it not for the fact that he was now
floating three feet above the sofa, he could almost imagine he was there, on
the porch of the beach house, the sun touching his face gently.
“Couldn’t sleep, Sir?”
Due to the lack of gravity he didn’t so much
jump as contract in surprise. He also
couldn’t stop a small gasp of shock from leaving his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Su Ning
apologised.
He looked up and saw her, lying flat on the
ceiling, on her stomach, looking out of one of the Lounge’s four windows. Her
body and legs, held against the curved
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