Two months out, Mars had been the brightest object in the sky save the sun, but still a starlike point. Then — twenty days from orbit insertion — Mars had opened out into a disk. And where the line between light and dark crossed the planet, she could see, with her naked eye, wrinkles and bumps: craters and canyons, catching the light of the sun.

Gradually, as the days had unfolded, she’d made out more and more recognizable detail on the surface. There was the huge gouge of the Valles Marineris — a wound visible even from a million miles out — and the polar cap in the north, swelling with water ice in advance of the coming winter, and the great black calderas of the Tharsis volcanoes.

It was remarkable how much she could recognize. Almost as if she had been here before.

Mars was clearly a small world, she thought. Some of the features — Tharsis, the Marineris canyons, Syrtis, the great iced pit of Hellas in the south — sprawled around the globe, outsized, dominating the curvature.

In some ways Mars was as she had expected. It looked a lot like the big photomosaic globes at JPL. But there were surprising differences, too. Mars wasn’t red so much as predominantly brown, a surface wrought out of subtle shadings of tan and ocher and rust. There was a sharp visible difference between northern and southern hemispheres, with the younger lands to the north of the equatorial line being brighter in color, almost yellow.

Ares was approaching the planet at an angle to the sunlight, so Mars was gibbous, with a fat slice of the night hemisphere turned toward the spacecraft. And the ocher shading seemed to deepen at the planet’s limb, and at low sun angles. These features gave the little globe a three-dimensional effect, a marked roundness. Mars was a little round orange, the only object apart from the sun in all the 360-degree sky visible as other than a point of light.

In the depths of the mission — suspended between planets, with nothing visible but sun and stars beyond the walls of the craft, and ground down by the stultifying routine of long-duration flight — York had suffered some deep depressions. She’d shrunk into herself, going through her assignments on autopilot, shunning the company of her crewmates. She suspected they’d suffered similarly, but they seemed to have found ways to cope: Gershon with his love of the machinery around them, Stone with his little pet pea plants.

Already she was dreading the return journey; it loomed in her imagination, a huge black barrier.

But that was for the future. Just then she was climbing out of the pit, up toward the warm ocher light of Mars.

She spent as much time as she could just staring at the approaching globe, identifying sites no naked human eye had seen before, as if claiming more and more of Mars for herself.

Monday, August 6, 1984

MEM SPACECRAFT 009, LOW EARTH ORBIT