Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

agencies, private and government, working on that problem. So, I figured that’s not what these two rockets are for, but why do it in secret? No, I think this mystery has to do with actually living on the red planet.”

“Okay, let’s assume you’re right. What then?”

“All right, it’s like I said. What are the biggest problems with living on Mars?”

“Well, I guess there are the five most significant problems, and many smaller ones.”

“Indeed,” Gavino confirmed, tapping both hands on the table.

“Can I take your order?” Meredith found her way back to the table, notebook in hand.

De Cremonese picked up the menu. “Is there anything you can recommend?”

“We have the best green chili cheeseburger in town with our homemade fries.”

De Cremonese looked at Gavino, who nodded. “Then I’ll have that,” he said.

“I’ll have the same,” Gavino added as she turned to him.

“Two chili cheeseburgers coming up.” And she disappeared behind the bar again.

“So, five big problems,” Gavino repeated as he took a pen and wrote “gravity” on a coaster. “There’s gravity. Mars has a third of Earth’s gravity, but researchers think we could get used to that.”

“Okay, that’s one,” De Cremonese said, counting the five problems.

“There’s temperature,” Gavino said, writing it on the coaster. “Since Mars’s atmosphere is one hundred times thinner than Earth’s, the temperature on an average day is about minus eighty degrees, but may get up to a cozy seventy degrees on a summer day.”

“That’s two.”

“Then there’s pressure.” He added it to the coaster. “On Earth, our atmospheric pressure at sea level has a comfortable one thousand thirteen millibars. On Mars, it is only seven point five millibars. Many humans are susceptible to altitude sickness at pressures lower than seven hundred millibars.”

“Two to go.” De Cremonese smiled at the young man. Most of it was common knowledge, but still, he recognized himself at that age, thinking he had all the knowledge nobody else could possibly have.

“And there’s the amount of UV radiation created by sunlight, which is about sixty times higher than on Earth.” On the coaster, he wrote “UV.”

“You better bring an SPF one thousand cream,” De Cremonese joked.

“And a nice pair of sunglasses. And, finally, there are the contents of the thin atmosphere, which is mainly composed of carbon dioxide with a little bit of oxygen and nitrogen. Much like Earth looked in its early days.” “Oxygen” was the last thing he wrote on the coaster.

He turned the coaster to De Cremonese. “So, how do we get a more constant temperature, higher atmospheric pressure, lower UV radiation and more oxygen?”

“You need a thicker atmosphere,” De Cremonese answered.

“Exactly,” the young man called out enthusiastically. “You need to cover Mars with a thermal blanket.”

“And how do we do that?” De Cremonese asked, already knowing the answer, but he didn’t want to take away Gavino’s moment.

“We create a greenhouse effect on Mars. Much the same way we did on Earth. In this case, we do it for the positive, to create a thermal blanket that will retain temperature, create a thick atmosphere with high pressure, and keep out most of the sunlight.”

“And oxygen?”

“That’s a bit of a different problem, but if you’ll hear me out.”

“All right, keep going.”

“You can keep the coaster, by the way.” Gavino smiled and shoved the coaster to De Cremonese. “So, two rockets, one on the way to the surface of the planet and one aimed at 5261 Eureka. I think they’re both on their way to start terraforming Mars.”

De Cremonese gave a tiny smile. “Okay,” he uttered.

“I’m dead serious.” Passion grabbed hold of Gavino.

“I can see that.”

“You taught me that astronomy is a science that you do purely for the joy of discovery. Look, let me explain. What if the rocket, directed at Mars, contains an atomic bomb?”

De Cremonese worked hard to keep his face in shape, listening to the enthusiastic young man.

“Again, please hear me out. It’s been suggested before to create a greenhouse effect on Mars by nuclear bombing the pole caps. The ice underneath the pole caps would melt and vaporize into the air, releasing CO2 needed for oxygen. That would release the greenhouse gasses needed for terraforming.”

“And make the area completely inhabitable,” De Cremonese replied.

“Only the pole caps. They would become radioactive for over a hundred years. But the gasses would spread over the entire planet, slowly starting the terraforming process. A free bonus would be that the water defrosted and, released by the process, would form new oceans all over the planet. Predictions are that, if melted, there’s enough water on Mars to fill the entire planet with an ocean eleven meters deep.”

De Cremonese stroked his beard as he always did when he got excited. A tick he had from the first time he grew a beard in college. “But it’s also been calculated that there’s not enough CO2 left on Mars to increase the temperature or pressure on Mars.”

“True again. But”—he took a big sip of his beer—“that’s where the second rocket comes in, the one heading for Eureka. Eureka contains ammonia—lots of it. The asteroid is in a stable orbit around Mars now, but should it be given a nudge, let’s say by a carefully aimed rocket, it would slowly descend to the surface as the orbit decays. Much of Eureka would burn up in the atmosphere and release water vapor containing the ammonia, adding to the greenhouse effect.”

Interested, De Cremonese now bent over the table. “Of course, you don’t know if one asteroid has enough effect.”

Both men now leaned over the table, their faces close to each other. “True,” Gavino agreed, “but you need to start somewhere, and with the two rockets combined, you’d create a hell of a testing ground to see the effects of terraforming the first planet in our solar system.”

“It would be something,” De Cremonese agreed, nodding.

“It would, wouldn’t it,” Gavino replied.

Both men now leaned back into their chairs.

“But it’s a lot of speculation,” De Cremonese added, getting down to Earth.

“Sure, but that doesn’t make it untrue,” Gavino concluded, still in his