Holt took his field glasses and inspected the surface below, that extensive vegetal area which so strikingly surrounds the polar caps, even when seen from the Earth. It was Mare Australe. After landing, their caterpillars would crawl through it to the point Bergmann had selected as most suitable for the landing of the other two boats.
In the steep sunshine, the land appeared dry, for no puddles sent up their reflected shimmers. From 80 kilometers, he could not distinguish the nature of the vegetation. As they approached the snow, Holt examined the line of demarcation between it and the green surroundings. At that line it would be easiest to discover the depth of the snow and the nature of the white covering concealing the southernmost part of the planet.
Spreading along the wide verge of the Antarctic snow field was a band of shimmering water, extending into the distance like a great river. As they flew above it, they could see its vast extent and recognize its shallowness from the tops of the plants emerging.
"I believe we'd better go further south where the snow may be firmer," said Hubbard.
"To land in the melting zone might get us upon a surface so soft that we and the whole business would sink as in a quicksand."
There was a change in the reaction of the ship to Hubbard's neat control movements.
"Martian transonic conditions are about the same as those at home," he called to Holt as the altimeter hung for a moment at 38 kilometers. Hubbard cautiously lowered the leading-edge flaps of the wings.
Holt scanned the surface attentively through his binoculars. Suddenly he gave Hubbard a punch in the ribs and handed him the glasses. "Give me the controls," he said, "and take a look at that long, gray thing down there!"
He banked into a smooth curve so that Hubbard might see better.
"It certainly looks artificial," said the latter. "Rather like concrete! I wonder what it can be?"
Holt returned the controls and began taking photographs of the strange object with his telecamera. Hubbard made several 360 degree turns around the mysterious structure while his companion again studied it with the glasses.
"There's no doubt about it, that thing's artificial," he said. "A mass as regular as that in the middle of a stoneless region didn't just happen. It looks rather like a concrete Quonset hut, with a domed roof and no windows. Perhaps we can tell more from the photographs after they're developed."
Hubbard marked the location of the object on his chart and glided further over the snow, meanwhile descending to 1,000 meters.
"Ready with the wind bomb?" he asked the mechanic below him.
"Ready!" came the answer.
"Does the surface look good?" he asked Holt.
Upon Holt's affirmative, the bomb was dropped, and Hubbard piloted the ship into a left turn, his eyes on the spot where the bomb would fall. A huge column of black smoke arose from it, drifting slowly to the northeast. As the trailing edge flaps went down and the skis were lowered, Holt radioed Knight that they would land immediately. The ship was now heading upwind towards the smoke bomb, close to the glittering surface of the snow. The skis touched softly and they sped like a sleigh along the smooth white plain.
The friction brakes reduced their speed with an unpleasant scratching and grinding, and their motion stopped.
"Nice landing, Glen," said Holt with a pat on the shoulder.
"Looks like the finale of the second act," commented Hubbard.
"Do you think we've got a Happy Ending coming too?" asked Holt with a smile which couldn't quite hide the obvious concern he felt.
"Never been to a movie yet that didn't have one. And you know this must be a movie, for people don't get to Mars except in movies. So I, for one, am counting on a happy ending!"
Chapter 22 — A Grayish Mass
The first eighteen human beings to land on Mars were grouped around the door leading to the upper surface of the huge wing. They listened intently to the hiss of the escaping air as the cabin was brought down to the low pressure outside. Then the door opened and they stepped out, Holt in the lead. Clad in their pressure suits and spherical, transparent helmets, they grouped themselves around him on the wing.
Curiously, and with mixed feelings, they gazed upon the wide expanse of snow surrounding their motionless vessel. Although encumbered with their space suits and not yet accustomed to walking and standing in the long-unfamiliar gravity, there was a feeling of release at no longer being cooped up within the small confines of the vessels in which they had made their long and silent journey. The scene before them might well have been that presented by a snow-covered plateau of their own familiar Earth, glistening in the sunlight from a dark blue, cloudless sky. Yet they beheld the scenery of a strange place, which to their loved ones at home appeared hardly different from any of the myriad denizens of the heavens.
Holt and Hubbard walked to the trailing edge from which the landing flap sloped towards the snow, six meters away.
"Go ahead, jump!" shouted Holt gleefully into his microphone and pointing downward. Hubbard looked sheepish.
"How about the boss being the first man on Mars?" he asked.
"You're the fellow who got us here safely," returned Holt. "Get on with it!"
Hubbard, without further ado, sprang down, landing no harder than if the jump had been two meters or so, for Mars' weak gravity seemed barely to pull him through the six meters between the wing and the surface. He gathered a handful of snow in the clumsy mitts of his pressure suit and tried to toss it up. It broke in the air, returning as powder to dust the transparent top of his helmet.
"We've got powder snow," he called into his microphone. "Did we bring any skis?"
As soon as the excitement of the arrival subsided, unloading operations were begun by opening the belly hatch and lowering the first of the caterpillars. The Chrysler
Corporation had developed them especially for conditions on the Red Planet, and they varied considerably from familiar patterns on Earth.
The power plants in particular had been designed to be independent of the atmosphere, except for cooling, for it had been thought unwise to rely upon burning any fuel in the relatively low oxygen concentration of the Martian atmosphere.
Supercharging, similar to that used in aircraft engines for high altitudes, might have been effective, but Holt's judgment was that this would be a questionable expedient in view of the refusal of the spectroscope operators on Lunetta to commit themselves.
The caterpillars, therefore, were driven by two propellants, concentrated hydrogen peroxide, as used in the reaction pistols, and common fuel oil. The hydrogen peroxide was first dissociated into water vapor and oxygen in a catalyzing chamber. This mixture evolved steam at high temperature by the energy of dissociation. Into it was injected a metered quantity of fuel oil, which promptly burned in the oxygen portion of the mixture.
A row of successive nozzles injected water into the flame, thus producing steam of moderate heat, only slightly contaminated by carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide from the combustion of the oil.
The flow of this steam could be regulated by throttling the admission of its three constituents. It turned a turbine which provided power for the caterpillar.
The steam was condensed in a low-pressure condenser, cooled by a blower, after passing through the turbine. The carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide remained in the vapor phase and were drawn off and expelled by a second and smaller blower, while the water in liquid phase was recirculated from the condenser to the combustion chamber.
The water loss of the system, therefore, was limited to the portions affected by dissociation of the peroxide and the combustion of the oil, by being ejected into the atmosphere as withdrawn from circulation.