Review written for ClubReading.com by Barbara
Astrology’s vision of Mars has often been one of bad notions and harsh influences. In this novel, 25 of the world’s best scientists travel to the planet and learn that pseudo-science has been at least partially correct all along. They find Mars to be at turns magestic, treacherous, and violently beautiful, but in addition to battling the elements, they must also battle their political and egotistical differences. Throughout the story, the characters’ inevitable goal is the Tithonium Chasma, a canyon far larger than any back home, and when they finally reach it, a discovery awaits them, one they never even dreamed of.
EXCERPT FROM Mars:
He was not bored now. He was not particularly worried, either. Merely careful. No need to rush, he reminded himself as he cautiously poked his pole into the sandy ripples a meter in front of his boots. We are here to rescue those four wretches, not to get stuck alongside them.
Dust stirred up where he prodded the ground. The pole sank in a few centimeters, then seemed to hit firm soil. Ivshenko nodded inside his helmet and took a step forward, dragging his safety tether behind him.
“How is it?” Vosnesensky’s voice rasped in his earphones.
“Soft, like sand. Not good traction.”
“Be very careful.”
“I am always very careful, Mikhail Andreivitch.”
“Then be doubly careful.”
“Yes, sir, comrade group commander.” Ivshenko chuckled to himself and took another step forward.
His foot slid out from under him. His body half turned as he grabbed at the pole with both hands but it too was sinking into the sand, suddenly the consistency of talcum. Clouds of pink dust billowed softly as Ivshenko felt himself slipping, sliding forward, his boots suddenly without purchase, sinking into a sea of soft red sand.
He did not call out. Even as he sank down into the clinging dust he let go of the useless pole and tried to twist his body around and reach back toward the last bit of firm ground. But inside the cumbersome hard suit he could barely turn a few degrees as he floundered, arms flailing, legs kicking. It was like sinking into gooey mud. Ivshenko imagined himself being sucked down into quicksand.
With those rapid reflexes and his ability to size up a situation quickly, Ivshenko stopped his struggling even as he heard Vosnesensky bellowing in his earphones: “What’s wrong? What’s happening”
He felt something firm beneath the heel of his left boot and tried to balance all his weight on it. But the boot slipped off it and he continued to sink slowly, inexorably, into the fine red dust. It rose up to his chest, up to his armpits, to the lip of his helmet.
“I am sinking,” he reported glumly….