More than a hundred years after Zeiss had built the first prototype in Jena in 1924, there were still a
few optical planetarium projectors in use, looming dramatically over their audiences. But Hong Kong had
retired its third-generation instrument decades ago, in favour of the far more versatile electronic system.
The whole of the great dome was, essentially, a giant television screen, made up of thousands of separate
panels, on which any conceivable image could be displayed.
The programme had opened - inevitably - with a tribute to the unknown inventor of the rocket,
somewhere in China during the thirteenth century. The first five minutes were a high-speed historical
survey, giving perhaps less than due credit to the Russian, German and American pioneers in order to
concentrate on the career of Dr Hsue-Shen Tsien. His countrymen could be excused, in such a time and
place, if they made him appear as important in the history of rocket development as Goddard, von Braun,
or Koroylev. And they certainly had just grounds for indignation at his arrest on trumped-up charges in
the United States when, after helping to establish the famed Jet Propulsion Laboratory and being
appointed Caltech's first Goddard Professor, he decided to return to his homeland.
The launching of the first Chinese satellite by the 'Long March 1' rocket in 1970 was barely mentioned,
perhaps because at that time the Americans were already walking on the Moon. Indeed, the rest of the
twentieth century was dismissed in a few minutes, to take the story up to 2007 and the construction of
the spaceship Tsien.
The narrator did not gloat unduly over the consternation of the other spacefaring powers, when a
presumed Chinese space station suddenly blasted out of orbit and headed for Jupiter, to overtake the
Russian-American mission aboard the Cosmonaut Alexei Leonov. The story was dramatic - and tragic -
enough to require no embellishment.
Unfortunately, there was very little authentic visual material to illustrate it: the programme had to rely
largely on special effects and intelligent reconstruction from later, long-range photo-surveys. During their
brief sojourn on the icy surface of Europa, Tsien's crew had been far too busy to make television
documentaries, or even set up an unattended camera.
Nevertheless, the words spoken at the time conveyed much of the drama of that first landing on the
moons of Jupiter. The commentary broadcast from the approaching Leonov by Heywood Floyd served admirably to set the
scene, and there were plenty of library shots of Europa to illustrate it:
'At this very moment I'm looking at it through the most powerful of the ship's telescopes; under this
magnification, it's ten times larger than the Moon as you see it with the naked eye. And it's a really weird
sight.
'The surface is a uniform pink, with a few small brown patches. It's covered with an intricate network
of narrow lines, curling and weaving in all directions. In fact, it looks very much like a photo from a
medical textbook, showing a pattern of veins and arteries.
'A few of these features are hundreds - or even thousands - of kilometres long, and look rather like the
illusory canals that Percival Lowell and other early-twentieth-century astronomers imagined they'd seen
on Mars.
'But Europa's canals aren't an illusion, though of course they're not artificial. What's more, they do
contain water - or at least ice. For the satellite is almost entirely covered by ocean, averaging fifty
kilometres deep.
'Because it's so far from the Sun, Europa's surface temperature is extremely low - about a hundred and
fifty degrees below freezing. So one might expect its single ocean to be a solid block of ice.
'Surprisingly, that isn't the case because there's a lot of heat generated inside Europa by tidal forces -
the same forces that drive the great volcanoes on neighbouring Io.
'So the ice is continually melting, breaking up and freezing, forming cracks and lanes like those in the
floating ice sheets in our own polar regions. It's that intricate tracery of cracks I'm seeing now; most of
them are dark and very ancient - perhaps millions of years old. But a few are almost pure white; they're
the new ones that have just opened up, and have a crust only a few centimetres thick.
'Tsien has landed right beside one of these white streaks - the fifteen-hundred-kilometre-long feature
that's been christened the Grand Canal. Presumably the Chinese intend to pump its water into their
propellant tanks, so that they can explore the Jovian satellite system and then return to Earth. That may
not be easy, but they'll certainly have studied the landing site with great care, and must know what
they're doing.
'It's obvious, now, why they've taken such a risk - and why they claim Europa. As a refuelling point, it
could be the key to the entire Solar System...'
But it hadn't worked out that way, thought Sir Lawrence, as he reclined in his luxurious chair beneath
the streaked and mottled disc that filled his artificial sky. The oceans of Europa were still inaccessible to
mankind, for reasons which were still a mystery. And not only inaccessible, but invisible: since Jupiter had
become a sun, both its inner satellites had vanished beneath clouds of vapour boiling out from their
interiors. He was looking at Europa as it had been back in 2010 - not as it was today.
He had been little more than a boy then, but could still remember the pride he felt in knowing that his
countrymen - however much he disapproved of their politics - were about to make the first landing on a
virgin world.
There had been no camera there, of course, to record that landing, but the reconstruction was superbly
done. He could really believe that was the doomed spaceship dropping silently out of the jetblack sky
towards the Europan icescape, and coming to rest beside the discoloured band of recently frozen water
that had been christened the Grand Canal.
Everyone knew what had happened next; perhaps wisely, there had been no attempt to reproduce it
visually. Instead, the image of Europa faded, to be replaced by a portrait as familiar to every Chinese as
Yuri Gagarin's was to every Russian.
The first photograph showed Rupert Chang on his graduation day in 1989 - the earnest young scholar,
indistinguishable from a million others, utter1y unaware of his appointment with history two decades in
the future.
Briefly, to a background of subdued music, the commentator summed up the highlights of Dr Chang's
career, until his appointment as Science Officer aboard Tsien. Cross-sections in time, the photographs
grew older, until the last one, taken immediately before the mission.
Sir Lawrence was glad of the planetarium's darkness; both his friends and his enemies would have
been surprised to see the moisture gathering in his eyes as he listened to the message that Dr Chang had
aimed towards the approaching Leonov, never knowing if it would be received.
'... know you are aboard Leonov... may not have much time... aiming my suit antenna where I think...'
The signal vanished for agonizing seconds, then came back much clearer, though not appreciably
louder.
'... relay this information to Earth. Tsien destroyed three hours ago. I'm only survivor. Using my suit
radio - no idea if it has enough range, but it's the only chance. Please listen carefully. THERE IS LIFE ON
EUROPA. I repeat: THERE IS LIFE ON EUROPA...
The signal faded again.
'... soon after local midnight. We were pumping steadily and the tanks were almost half full. Dr Lee and
I went out to check the pipe insulation. Tsien stands - stood - about thirty metres from the edge of the
Grand Canal. Pipes go directly from it and down through the ice. Very thin - not safe to walk on. The
warm upwelling...'
Again a long silence.
'... no problem - five kilowatts of lighting strung up on the ship. Like a Christmas tree - beautiful,
shining right through the ice. Glorious colours. Lee saw it first - a huge dark mass rising up from the
depths. At first we thought it was a school of fish - too large for a single organism - then it started to
break through the ice.
'... like huge strands of wet seaweed, crawling along the ground. Lee ran back to the ship to get a
camera - I stayed to watch, reporting over the radio. The thing moved so slowly I could easily outrun it. I
was much more excited than alarmed. Thought I knew what kind of creature it was - I've seen pictures of
the kelp forests off California - but I was quite wrong...
I could tell it was in trouble. It couldn't possibly survive at a temperature a hundred and fifty below its
normal environment. It was freezing solid as it moved forward - bits were breaking off like glass - but it
was still advancing towards the ship - a black tidal wave, slowing down all the time.
'I was still so surprised that I couldn't think straight and I couldn't imagine what it was trying to do.
'... climbing up the ship, building a kind of ice tunnel as it advanced. Perhaps this was insulating it from
the cold - the way termites protect themselves from Sunlight with their little corridors of mud.
'... tons of ice on the ship. The radio antennas broke off first. Then I could see the landing legs
beginning to buckle - all in slow motion, like a dream.
'Not until the ship started to topple did I realize what the thing was trying to do - and then it was too
late. We could have saved ourselves - if we'd only switched off those lights.
'Perhaps it's a phototrope, its biological cycle triggered by the Sunlight that filters through the ice. Or it
could have been attracted like a moth to a candle. Our floodlights must have been more brilliant than
anything that Europa has ever known. 'Then the ship crashed. I saw the hull split, a cloud of snowflakes form as moisture
condensed. All the
lights went out, except for one, swinging back and forth on a cable a couple of metres above the ground.
'I don't know what happened immediately after that. The next thing I remember, I was standing under
the light, beside the wreck of the ship, with a fine powdering of fresh snow all around me. I could see my
footsteps in it very clearly... I must have run there; perhaps only a minute or two had elapsed...
'The plant - I still thought of it as a plant - was motionless. I wondered if it had been damaged by the
impact; large sections - as thick as a man's arm -had splintered off, like broken twigs.
'Then the main trunk started to move again. It pulled away from the hull, and began to crawl towards
me. That was when I knew for certain that the thing was light-sensitive: I was standing immediately
under the thousand-watt lamp, which had stopped swinging now.
'Imagine an oak tree - better still, a banyan with its multiple trunks and roots - flattened out by gravity
and trying to creep along the ground. It got to within five metres of the light, then started to spread out
until it had made a perfect circle around me. Presumably that was the limit of its tolerance -the point at
which photo-attraction turned to repulsion. After that, nothing happened for several minutes. I wondered
if it was dead - frozen solid at last.
'Then I saw that large buds were forming on many of the branches. It was like watching a time-lapse
film of flowers opening. In fact I thought they were flowers - each about as big as a man's head.
'Delicate, beautifully coloured membranes started to unfold. Even then, it occurred to me that no-one -
no thing - could ever have seen these colours before; they had no existence until we brought our lights -
our fatal lights - to this world.
'Tendrils, stamens, waving feebly... I walked over to the living wall that surrounded me, so that I
would see exactly what was happening. Neither then, or at any other time, had I felt the slightest fear of
the creature. I was certain that it was not malevolent - if indeed it was conscious at all.
'There were scores of the big flowers, in various stages of unfolding. Now, they reminded me of
butterflies, just emerging from the chrysalis... wings crumpled, still feeble... I was getting closer and
closer to the truth.
'But they were freezing - dying as quickly as they formed. Then, one after another, they dropped off
from the parent buds. For a few moments they flopped around like fish stranded on dry land - and at last
I realized exactly what they were. Those membranes weren't petals - they were fins, or their equivalent.
This was the free-swimming, larval stage of the creature. Probably it spends much of its life rooted on the
seabed, then sends these mobile offspring in search of new territory. Just like the corals of Earth's
oceans.
'I knelt down to get a closer look at one of the little creatures. The beautiful colours were fading now,
to a drab brown. Some of the petal-fins had snapped off, becoming brittle shards as they froze. But it was
still moving feebly, and as I approached it tried to avoid me. I wondered how it sensed my presence.
'Then I noticed that the stamens - as I'd called them - all carried bright blue dots at their tips. They
looked like tiny star sapphires - or the blue eyes along the mantle of a scallop - aware of light, but unable
to form true images. As I watched, the vivid blue faded, the sapphires became dull, ordinary stones...
'Dr Floyd - or anyone else who is listening - I haven't much more time - Jupiter will soon block my
signal. But I've almost finished.
'I knew then what I had to do. The cable to that thousand-watt lamp was hanging almost to the
ground. I gave it a few tugs, and the light went out in a shower of sparks.
'I wondered if it was too late. For a few minutes, nothing happened. So I walked over to the wall of
tangled branches around me, and kicked it. 'Slowly, the creature started to unweave itself, and to retreat back to the Canal.
There was plenty of
light - I could see everything perfectly. Ganymede and Callisto were in the sky - Jupiter was a huge, thin
crescent - and there was a big auroral display on the nightside, at the Jovian end of the Io flux tube.
There was no need to use my helmet light.
'I followed the creature all the way back to the water, encouraging it with more kicks when it slowed
down, feeling the fragments of ice crunching all the time beneath my boots... As it neared the Canal, it
seemed to gain strength and energy, as if it knew that it was approaching its natural home. I wondered if
it would survive, to bud again.
'It disappeared through the surface, leaving a few last dead larvae on the alien land. The exposed free
water bubbled for a few minutes until a scab of protective ice sealed it from the vacuum above. Then I
walked back to the ship to see if there was anything to salvage - I don't want to talk about that...
'I've only two requests to make, Doctor. When the taxonomists classify this creature, I hope they'll
name it after me.
'And - when the next ship comes home - ask them to take our bones back to China..
'Jupiter will be cutting us off in a few minutes. I wish I knew whether anyone was receiving me.
Anyway, I'll repeat this message when we're in line of sight again - if my suit's life-support system lasts
that long.
'This is Professor Chang on Europa, reporting the destruction of spaceship Tsien. We landed beside the
Grand Canal and set up our pumps at the edge of the ice...'
The signal faded abruptly, came back for a moment, then disappeared completely below the noise
level. There would never be any further message from Professor Chang; but it had already deflected
Lawrence Tsung's ambitions into space.
