Okay, I said, digging my heels into the snow, stop now, and look back…
We all turned back towards the Outpost as one. Thankfully, I'd been right.
There, shining right above the top of the Christmas tree, was a brilliant,
sapphire spark, bathed in a shimmering halo of cornflower-blue.
Earth was our Christmas star…
And as we stood there, on the ancient ice of an ancient world so far from
our own that we could cover it with one finger, we all joined hands and began
to sing; ten of us, looking for all the world like snowmen in our hardsuits,
our curved visors reflecting the azure-blue spark of Earth as we sang one of
the oldest carols of all. And moments later - unknown to us - our singing was
being beamed right around the planet too, into each and every Station and
Outpost on the Red Planet. A choked voice in our helmets told us then that
there were people pulling on suits and heading outside all across the
night-side of Mars, to follow our lead and stand together, holding hands, and
look back at Earth through tear-filled eyes…
Each and every one of them singing "Silent Night"…
And yes, I cried too, as I waved at you, and wished you all a Merry
Christmas.
I'll have to close now, cos if I make this any longer they'll refuse to
transmit it; there's a limit on the size of outgoing emails. But I want you to
know that even though I'm here, on the ice cap of a different planet, so far
from home that it will take this message almost half an hour to reach you once
the Comms guy hits the Send button, I'm thinking of you and missing you all.
I'll be back home in a year.
Save me some of that turkey!
All my love,
Kyle Lowrie, USGS,
Dec 24th, 2051,
Chasma B
Outpost,
Mars.