The enthusiasm for the Mars expedition wasn't limited to the scientists; the general public's excitement far exceeded Jason's expectations. As soon as the news was released, tens of thousands of people eagerly responded. The administration had no choice but to implement a rigorous, specialized screening process...
Meanwhile, Special Forces Captain Marcus was running a group of young men through intense drills in the training room. Soldiers weren't ordinary citizens, so they bypassed the civilian selection process.
The military operated on a strict hierarchy; it didn't require democracy or equality. A single order from high command dictated who went where. However, due to the unique nature of this expedition, there were no known enemy combatants and the threat level was environmental rather than tactical, new recruits would make up the bulk of the security detail.
Over the past few months, the Department of National Security had drafted over two hundred new recruits. Combined with the existing personnel, the total number of soldiers on the Noah reached three hundred. In recognition of the expanded force, all original veteran soldiers received a one-rank promotion.
As one of those veterans, Marcus was promoted to Captain and made a Team Leader. He was personally responsible for training a platoon of twenty recruits.
Normally, their training was concentrated in the high-gravity sectors near the bottom of the spaceship. Physical conditioning in high gravity was incredibly effective for building muscle mass and bone density.
Recently, however, to prepare for the Martian environment, Marcus had moved their drills to the low-gravity zone. Mars's gravity is only about 38% of Earth's, and the soldiers needed to adapt their movement and combat techniques to the change.
The military was allocated thirty slots for the landing party. Marcus was designated as the tactical commander for the operation; all boots on the ground would answer to him.
Don't be fooled by his sometimes laid-back or reckless demeanor; that was only apparent when compared to formidable intellects like Jason or Austin. When it came to combat, Marcus was a Tier-One operator. You didn't make it into the Federation Special Forces by being unreliable. He was a hardened veteran with numerous black-ops missions under his belt.
In the training room, the recruits were running tactical shooting drills and engaging in close-quarters combat (CQC). Occasionally, when Marcus felt the itch, he would step onto the mat and teach the recruits a painful lesson, effortlessly dismantling three or four opponents at once. They were simply too green. In a real life-or-death struggle, Marcus could wipe out the entire platoon alone; the gap in combat experience and lethality was just that vast.
Of the thirty military slots, Marcus was the only original Tier-One operator. Three others were former private military contractors, veterans with solid experience and the remaining twenty-six were all fresh recruits.
"Listen up! Line up!" Marcus shouted the moment the drill timer beeped.
The recruits scrambled, forming up in neat ranks before him, snapping to attention.
"At ease!"
The sound of boots shifting in unison echoed through the room. After two months of grueling training, the recruits had finally developed proper discipline. Without discipline, a soldier is just a civilian with a gun. Marcus was satisfied with their progress.
It's been two months already. Time flies, he thought. Since taking command of the platoon, the weight of responsibility had settled heavily on his shoulders.
"Listen closely," Marcus announced, pacing before the formation. "In a few minutes, our platoons will compete in a comprehensive combat readiness evaluation. The categories are: marksmanship, CQC, field medicine, physical endurance, psychological resilience, and environmental hazard adaptation. Six events."
He stopped and leveled a hard stare at the recruits. "Only the top twenty-six scorers are coming to Mars with me. I do not intend for my platoon to look like a bunch of tourists down there, so you will leave everything you have on the mat. Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" the recruits roared in unison. Their eyes gleamed with nervous excitement, though they remained rigidly at attention.
Seeing morale was high. Marcus nodded in approval.
...
The civilian population was just as fired up. The sheer volume of volunteers forced the administration to strictly filter candidates based on highly specialized skills or exceptional comprehensive abilities.
"Attention, everyone! This is a scientific expedition, not a vacation! The deployment will last one to two months. If you do not possess a required technical skill, do not submit an application! Mars is a hostile environment!"
At the volunteer registration center, a slightly portly administrator was shouting. Despite the warnings, hundreds of people still submitted their resumes, hoping for a lucky break.
The quotas for scientists, soldiers, and medical personnel were already fixed. The remaining general civilian slots numbered only between one and two hundred.
The department heads of the Geological, Medical, Biological, and Engineering teams were ruthlessly reviewing the applications. Their criteria were brutal; if a candidate lacked in either professional expertise or physical fitness, their application was instantly shredded.
Following the resume screening, there would be rigorous interviews. Ultimately, accepting only two hundred people from tens of thousands was a harsh process, but a necessary one.
"Zack, I read that there are Category 12 hurricane-force winds on Mars. It's incredibly dangerous!" a tall, striking blonde woman said, pulling anxiously at her boyfriend's arm.
The young man was Zack, Wayne's drinking buddy and former roommate.
He had finally managed to find a girlfriend aboard the ship, a woman of Russian descent named Victoria, who possessed both stunning looks and a sharp mind. Zack is having a blast these past few months.
"Relax, Victoria. Don't listen to the rumors," Zack said dismissively, having already done his homework. "The atmospheric pressure on Mars is barely one percent of Earth's. Even a Category 12 wind there barely has enough kinetic energy to mess up your hair."
He was busy filling out his application via his datapad, listing his credentials: MIT graduate, Master's degree in Geological Engineering, certified Heavy Machinery Operator, and structural engineering licenses. Coupled with a flawless physical exam, his resume was top-tier. He was confident he'd make the cut.
"But this book says massive dust storms can bury entire habitats..." Victoria persisted, holding up a classic sci-fi novel, The Martian.
"Babe, that's fiction. The author took creative liberties with the weather for dramatic effect. You can't use it as a survival manual," Zack chuckled. He reviewed his application one last time and hit submit.
He grinned at her. "Even if there are strong winds, the force wouldn't be enough to blow us away. If it was a real threat, the senior scientists would have scrubbed the mission. Don't worry, Commander Jason isn't going to send us into a meat grinder."
"Really?" Victoria blinked, her worry fading into determination. "Then I want to sign up too!"
...
The efficiency of the new administration was remarkable. Within two days, the personnel selection was finalized. Meanwhile, the Noah had drifted into position over the Martian North Pole, holding a geostationary hover at an altitude of approximately 1,000 kilometers, drifting slightly with the upper atmospheric currents.
Because this planet was meant to be their primary resource hub for the foreseeable future, extreme caution was exercised. The orbital science teams had already conducted extensive remote surveys using ground-penetrating radar and spectrometry, finding no anomalous threats.
Five hundred personnel engineers, doctors, nurses, soldiers, media personnel, and scientists stood in tight formation in the hangar bay before the dropship Victory, prepped for deployment.
Under the gaze of the assembly, Jason delivered the final briefing. "Comrades, you are the elite. Five hundred individuals meticulously selected from a population of fifty thousand. You possess the skills and the grit required for this task. I will keep this brief and reiterate your primary objectives."
"First: Establish a functional, temporary forward operating base."
"Second: Execute a comprehensive geological survey of the designated Arctic sector."
"Third: Investigate the potential for extant or fossilized Martian life."
"Fourth: Watch each other's backs and ensure your personal safety."
Jason saluted them. "That is all. I look forward to your successful return."
"Victory!" the five hundred personnel shouted, raising V-shaped hand gestures as automated cameras flashed for a historic group photo. Immediately after, they sealed their EVA suits and began filing into the dropship.
Due to the Victory's limited cargo capacity, transporting the necessary heavy machinery, habitats, and supplies would require several round trips.
If the Noah had descended lower into the atmosphere, they could have utilized orbital tethers or space elevators to lower the cargo directly. But at an altitude of 1,000 kilometers, tethering was currently unfeasible.
Jason made a mental note; they needed to research and develop heavy-lift, short-range orbital transport systems. It would make logistics infinitely easier.
...
Mars boasts an average surface temperature of -63 degrees Celsius. Its atmosphere is thin, cold, and irradiated, and it is orbited by two jagged moons. As Earth's sister planet, the question of "Is there life on Mars?" had captivated humanity for centuries.
In 1984, a Martian meteorite, ALH84001, was discovered in Antarctica. Years later, NASA announced it contained microscopic structures resembling fossilized bacteria, sparking intense debate.
Skeptics argued the structures were naturally occurring mineral formations. The debate raged for decades without a definitive conclusion.
In 1976, the Viking landers conducted experiments specifically designed to detect microorganisms in the Martian soil. The initial results were tantalizingly positive, but were later dismissed by the broader scientific community as inorganic chemical reactions, another point of fierce contention.
The presence of trace methane in the Martian atmosphere was also cited as a potential byproduct of biological activity, though geological processes like serpentinization were generally favored as the more likely culprit.
Did Mars ever harbor conditions suitable for life? In 2013, the Curiosity rover provided a definitive 'yes'. Analysis of bedrock samples confirmed that ancient Mars possessed freshwater lakes and the chemical building blocks necessary to support living microbes.
However, a "habitable environment" does not guarantee that life ever actually emerged. Humanity had never found definitive proof of Martian biology.
That ultimate question was finally about to be answered by the expedition team.