The Attempt (The Martian Manifesto Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

the crater in which it sat. Probe Spit’s eye periscoped up out of the sand, and followed the puffs of dust as the hopper zigzagged its way to the top of the crater wall that was nearest to the detected vibrations.
    Spit brou ght its Stage Two checklist into main memory. Since it had detected a vibration anomaly, the checklist demanded caution. The probe could not deploy its precious cargo just yet. The proper response for this scenario was to create defensive weapons. Which ones it created would depend upon the discoveries of the hoppers.
    # # #
    Charles finished climbing the stairs and stood in the middle of the circular upper deck of the habitat. Behind him, a set of four private rooms curved in a semicircle. On his left was a recreation area, with a large screen on the curved outside wall of the habitat, and an inflatable couch facing it. On his right was the kitchen and dining area, and he saw that Commander Grant Stiles and Mission Engineer Sergey Andreovich were already seated and eating.
    Charles directed his comment at the squat sulky Russian. “Serge, I hope you haven’t made us bors cht again for lunch,” he chided.
    Sergey looked up from his soup to gaze at the Mission Biologist. He had finally become used to the nickname his American comrades used, which they pronounced ‘S erj,’ but when he was in a foul mood it grated on him. He remembered as a child that the American President Bush had nicknames for many of the world leaders, and had called the Italian Prime Minister ‘Shoes’ and Prime Minister Putin ‘Pootie-Poot.’ At least his American companions were not so crass. Still, the thought made him grouse a bit. “If I had some good Russian beets, I would have been, how you Americans say, in seventh heaven by now,” he said in his gruff voice. “But you give me these twisted little pale things from the greenhouse. I thought you were a master geneticist?”
    “Now, now, Serge,” said Brad. “Chuck is doing the best he can. You know the early Mars probes found huge amounts of calcium perchlorate in the soil. We prepared for that as best we could, but it’s still taking a while to build up a robust plant system.”
    “That’s right,” Charles said. “The perchlorate is toxic in these amounts, so first I had to introduce specially modified bacteria into the soil. It’s finally down to a reasonable amount, and the plants can survive. Plus, we can now go into that section of the greenhouse with minimal protection. But since we’re the first mission to Mars, we need to experiment with multiple types of plants and bacteria if we are ever to fully colonize this planet.” Charles couldn’t help grinning as he continued, “I’m trying to get some herbs to grow for you too, you know. I assume you don’t want to keep drinking that so called ‘Russian Tea’ that NASA created for you that uses tea, cinnamon, cloves and Tang?”
    “Bah, I suspect you Americans still have Tang left over from the Apollo missions to the Moon and are trying to rid yourselves of it finally by foisting it upon your Russian comrades. But still, I must say that it does make a pretty good Russian tea. You should try it.”
    “Um, thanks but no thanks,” Charles said. He then turned to the Commander. “Grant, do we have any new communications from Mission Control or JPL?” he said, using the acronym for the Jet Propulsion Lab which monitored all robotic missions in the Solar System.
    “Yes, we had a few this morning,” Commander Grant Stiles stated. “First, it looks like the colonists successfully made it to orbit and are on their way to meet up with the AB Cycler.”
    “They better take good care of it,” said Brad. “That’s our ride home. It will be nice to have all that room on the way back plus radiation shielding against cosmic rays and solar flares. I wouldn’t want to go back the way we got here, stuffed in the Orion III Command Module for seven months and huddling in the safe room for a couple of days