A Rover's Story: Parts Two–Three

It is like the way Rania’s hands would shake when she recalculated over and over again my landing trajectory.

I can hear her admonishing me for wondering and hoping.

“A flaw was found in the test bed rover,” one of the hazmats says.
“But there is a modification to be made,” another says.
I am taken apart again. My insides inspected and adjusted.

From what I am able to scan, it does not look that substantially different from the laboratory.

Journey was supposed to be here. I had always assumed Journey would be here.

Right now, I do not have any instructions. Fly and me are aimlessly hurtling through space.

I am left with only my knowledge. And my knowledge feels terribly insufficient.

I should have noticed that before. Perhaps if I had made that observation, I would have anticipated that Journey would not be on this mission.

My navigation tools tell me that we are rapidly approaching Mars. Our landing is imminent.

In my code, I find the information that Mars’s atmosphere is thin, which makes for optimal viewing of stars.

Our speed is increasing. My system updates me on our velocity and angles.

My system detects the red and brown pigments as it does a cursory scan.

And I am able to identify large traces of iron and chlorine wafting up in the wind from the Martian soil.

My cameras detect the red and brown pigments of the dirt, its craggy and rocky texture.

I have never felt so small before. Small, tiny, minuscule. Is felt the right word? Are tiny and small and minuscule the right words?

The hazy endless sky filled with wispy ice clouds.

I knew there would be a long lag because of the distance between Earth and Mars, but it is hard to wait.

The helicopter will need to take flight. He will scan the terrain. That will help us all to determine what areas are most worth exploring.

You have two main objectives for this mission: You are to collect rock samples of significant interest, and you are to bring back online a past rover named Courage.

The command center has received my photo, and they are initiating my first drive tasks. My system has strict instructions that I am not supposed to move at all until the first drive tests have been completed.

The results indicate that this particular bit of dust is made up of a mixture of elements, with silicon being the most prominent.

I collect a sampling of the soil and bring it back inside my system’s chemical laboratory. Here, I will run a more thorough analysis than the laser is able to do.

The command center sends me code that asks me to unfold my mast, which is my instrument that carries many panoramic and navigation cameras, as well as other scientific tools.

“I will give that test a positive check, then.”
“Affirmative,” Guardian agrees.

I was not prepared for the actuality of day and night. For the darkness. For what it is like to observe the sky fade from a dusty red to a black so dense and saturated that there is no need for me to even run the color through the pigment filter.

On days when the dust is less prevalent in Mars’s atmosphere, Fly and I are able to see the stars.

In the darkness, I can make out the shadowy outline of the mountainous buttes that surround us.

“Soon,” I say again, and hope that my assessment that clearance will come soon is correct.

While I wait for instructions from the command center, I continue to rove, gliding over a sand dune that is relatively easy to traverse.

“Water is important because it sustains life,” I say. “And that means, we are most likely to find a fossil in a place that once had water.”
“Sustains life for who? Hazmats?” Fly asks.

I am still getting used to traversing the dips and crevices of Mars’s surface.

“Please speed up if possible,” Guardian says. “We want to be as efficient as we can be.”

The purpose of Fly’s flight is to collect new data in a quicker and more efficient fashion than I am able to. He will be able to gather aerial footage of Mars’s surface.

“We are almost to the spot Guardian found, Fly. I’m following the coordinates Guardian sent.”

I do not always have the answers to Fly’s questions. Guardian always answers, but I am starting to understand that answering is not necessarily the same thing as knowing the answer.

After doing a thorough scan, I determine that Guardian was indeed correct that this is an ideal location for Fly’s first flight.

He zooms over the flat expanse.

“But I am meant to return to Earth,” I say.
“You keep saying that, but I am not sure of the validity of that statement.”

“Is that area prone to dust storms?”
“A dust storm can occur anywhere,” Guardian says.

“You should know that.”
“I do, but I was asking for clarification.”