Song to the Siren: A Titan Story (Part Three of Three)

Part One at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/song-siren-titan-story-part-one...

Part Two at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/song-siren-titan-story-part-two...

Song to the Siren: A Titan Story (Part Three of Three)

Pioneer III glides through the soundless realm of space, nearing the target co-ordinates for a successful orbit. Everyone is focused intently on their instruments occasionally glancing up at and out of the window at the front of the craft. It’s an extraordinary sight passing Saturn and homing in on the golden, hydrocarbon haze of Titan’s atmosphere. We are down to the last few minutes of our approach. I think about the message from Jenny and the kids. It’s still sinking in that I have two children now; one I have yet to meet. I ponder what she must think of her absentee father gallivanting about the solar system when he should be at home helping to bring his daughter up. I wasn’t the only one to come away from those updates in an emotional state; Genevieve had a “dear John” message from her girlfriend of the last ten years and Damien’s dog had died whilst he was on the voyage. Everyone came away from their exchanges in a charged state and, once the replies had been recorded, we had gathered for coffee to debrief and reset ourselves emotionally. It’s Eleanor’s job to support the team in terms of mental health but there’s no avoiding the impact of news from home for any of us so she is much a part of the process as anyone else.

“Approaching orbit, sir. Systems cross-checked. No reported issues.” Jim still has that country drawl that makes him sound like a good-‘ole-boy from the country even if it’s only a faint accent.

There’s a collective holding of breath as the last kilometres are counted down to the ship’s home for the next year at least.

“We are in position, sir.” Jim’s voice moves up a few notes as he finishes the declaration. The crew look at each other and smile. It’s a watershed moment.

****

Jim is pressing switches and scanning readings. I am seated next to him in the lander as we make the descent. Visibility is poor; clouds swirl around the craft. We are being buffeted by high winds. The surface should be in sight soon. Images from Dragonfly have shown us that Titan is mainly mountainous with desert regions and, intriguingly, oceans of liquid methane where complex life could exist. In my mind, I picture bleak expanses of no man’s land waiting for us. Whilst gravity is only 14% of that on Earth, air pressure is 50% greater so we will need the specialist equipment and space suits prepared for the mission. A screen display indicates we have the remaining 500 kilometres to travel of the 2,549.46km radius. The retro rockets will be firing any second now to allow us to slow down and glide to the surface. The calculations have been done to ensure that we land in a safe zone where the area is firm and the distance to a nearby ocean allows its investigation. I close my eyes for a second and hold my breath. There’s a bump throwing me forward in my seat.

We have landed.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Jim has a confident smile on his face. He also knows there’s a lot of hard work to be done as he goes back to his instruments, checking data and processing read-outs. It’s a few minutes before we feel ready to speak to the mother ship.

“This is Lander calling Mother. Over.”

Damien’s face appears on my console.

“We hear you, Lander. This is Mother. Over.”

“The eagle has landed. We are safe on the surface, Mother. Over.” I have waited a lifetime to say those words.

“Roger that Lander. We hear ya! Over.” There’s cheering in the background.

“We will be suiting up shortly for our first moon walk. Over.”

“Roger that Lander. Please keep us posted with your progress. Over.”

And that’s it. Comms completed. Unbuckling ourselves, we both head towards the back of the craft. Waiting for us is the equipment needed to allow us to take those first steps on Titan. It won’t be a Neil Armstrong moment as we have no live feed but Jim will be filming for posterity. I have words in my head that I think will go with the occasion excepting that whatever I say won’t be enough to match the significance of stepping out on the first alien world since the Mars expeditions of the 2030s. This is the most important moon landing since 1969. We suit up making sure that everything is attached as it should be. The oxygen supply on the backpacks will be critical as the atmosphere is not breathable. It’s nearly 95% nitrogen with some methane and traces of hydrogen for the most part. By the time we have finished, we look reminiscent of those astronauts who walked on the surface of Earth’s moon and the Red Planet; face visors, hard-wearing white suit and heavy boots.

“You ready for this?” Jim sounds slightly muffled as he asks a question aimed at much at him as it is me.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” The scene is being filmed on a small, hand-held device that’s being panned around by my second-in-command.

We enter the airlock and a button on the wall is depressed. A door slides shut and we are seconds away from being exposed to Titan’s atmosphere. The air pressure equalises with a quiet hissing noise. I look down at the floor, anticipating the next few moments. It’s momentous and a privilege to be on the cusp of history. Thoughts of my family trickle through the back of my mind. The outer hatch is opening. Slowly, slowly. We both watch, wide-eyed. The lander is a bit like the lunar version from the 1960s and 70s with its metal legs elevating the craft off the ground. Stairs extend out and downwards which we will have to walk down to make it to the surface.

The view in the half-light is incredible. There are rocky mountain ranges extended into the sky; the air is a thick, yellowish substance making visibility poor. Snow of a kind if falling. In the distance, there are pools of water and a larger expanse of methane liquid beyond. There is no vegetation of any kind. On the horizon, Saturn looks huge sitting in the sky, side on, encircled by its rings. We both stare for a few moments before descending the metal steps to the surface. On the last rung I linger knowing that these scenes are being recorded even if the shot will be taken from behind me. The final step is upon us. My right leg stretches forward and I declare “One small step for all, one giant leap for humankind.” It feels like a suitable homage to the heroes that have gone before.

On the surface, dust is blowing up everywhere, airborne squalls, brown and powdery. I feel light in this gravity and gently bounce along, each bound taking me a couple of feet off the ground. Jim points ahead where there is a seashore. The light from his headlamp cuts through the thick mist swirling around us. It’s dark on Titan and freezing cold at -178C. There’s no room for error with our suits. One tiny breach and we will freeze to death in seconds. We head in the direction he is indicating knowing that we have enough oxygen to last a couple of hours. Lines of number and code run across my eyes on the inner surface of my visor. A readout in red that includes my life signs. We surge on past rocky outcrops and sandy pits. The further we go, the more pools of liquid appear like it’s just a beach in Miami or something. I can see an expanse of water ahead. My oxygen is standing at 63 minutes remaining so I will need to turn back shortly.

Nearly there.

And I am standing on the edge of an ocean. As far as the eye can see, there is liquid methane and ethane. It’s a green colour almost as though there’s been a takeover by algae. I find a rock and perch on it for a few seconds. I remember the dream I had before waking on Pioneer. Have I wanted to run away all my life? Is this exploration of another world just a way of avoiding responsibility? Jim is wandering about taking footage.

An alarm is beeping in my helmet telling me that I am down to the last sixty minutes of oxygen. I must turn back now. Jim has already advanced a few yards on the return journey. He knows I will follow. I look down and there’s a flickering under the surface of the liquid. It looks like a fish tail. I blink as I slowly spin and face the other way, homeward bound. I process what I think I saw. She has come for me.   

Footnotes:

My grateful thanks to anyone that read some or all of this 3-parter. It ran to c. 4,800 words in the end. I guess the folklore aspect of mermaids seemed an interesting base to work a story arc from.

I spent more time researching facts for this story than any other. First of all, looking at web sites and videos to see how astronauts operate in space e.g. on the International Space Station (ISS). Then reading up on both Saturn and Titan and the facts and figures that are known.

The search for life other than our own is probably one of our noblest pursuits. Titan is one of the most likely places to harbour life albeit the upcoming expeditions to Mars may yet be earlier to announce findings of scientific significance.

The central theme of this story was to focus on the thoughts and emotions that would go with a long space voyage like this and what the repercussions might be for both those travelling and those left behind on Earth.

The search continues.

Image free to use at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lakes_of_Titan#/media/File:PIA23172-Saturn...