Mars Mission

narrated by Boris Pfeiffer

with illustrations by Kim Schmidt

translated by Georgina Hodge

KOSMOS

Alien Worlds

“Awesome! Is that really true?” Peter Shaw was lolling around in a discarded car seat next to the fence surrounding Titus Jonas' junkyard. He was holding a torn page of the Rocky Beach Today in his hand, from which Justus had just unwrapped some seashells.

“Is what true?” Justus asked, as he laid out the shells on the sales tables by the entrance.

“Whether there's going to be a manned mission to Mars?” Peter murmured, and carried on reading curiously.

Bob Andrews, the third member of the three ??? detective team, shook his head. “I don't think so. The atmosphere on Mars is 95 percent carbon dioxide. There's very little oxygen. No human being can exist up there.”

“But,” thought Justus, “maybe they can discover some raw materials up there? And maybe someday scientists will manage to turn Mars into a habitable planet? I think it's called Terraforming or something like that.”

Bob chuckled. “Well, on Mars, you weigh only a third of what you weigh on Earth. That would be a real advantage for you!”

“Very funny!” Justus was actually a little overweight, and so he looked at Bob shaking his head in annoyance. “But seriously, though a couple probes have flown to Mars and taken some photos, there's still never been a manned flight before.”

“But there's something written about it here!” Peter pointed at the article, which was entitled: Alien Worlds. “Apparently, a flight like that is supposed to take only a month.”

Justus shuddered. “Jeez! One whole month cooped up inside a rocket! The astronauts must suffer a space meltdown on a trip like that!”

Peter grinned. “Imagine eating food from a tube all month. That would be a great diet for you, Justus! By the time you'd arrive on Mars, you would be as skinny as a toothpick for the first time ever in your life.”

Justus ignored the second jibe and said nothing. All right, he was tubbier than his two friends, but the power of his little grey cells had more than once made up for his lack of mobility.

He looked at the displayed shells and was pleased with his work. The three ??? had found them while diving, and since business at the junkyard wasn't running that well at the moment, he decided that passing tourists might be interested in buying the nicest ones.

“Even so, guys, just imagine being the first man on Mars! How cool would that be?” Bob exclaimed, looking at the article over Peter's shoulder. “What else does it say, Peter?”

“Not much more, actually. Part of the article is missing. It just says something here about some Professor Flaw. Apparently, he used to work for NASA and he invented the new space shuttle.”

“A spaceship with a sail propulsion system,” Bob replied in amazement. “I wonder how that works? Like on a surfboard?”

Peter looked up. “No idea, but it would be really cool to surf to Mars! Just wearing a spacesuit and riding on a huge board through space.”

Justus grinned. “Well sure, Peter Shaw as the Silver Surfer! So tell me, is this a serious article about an actual space expedition, or just some crazy idea of how it might be done?” He snatched the newspaper page from Peter's hand. “Hey!” Peter shouted angrily.

But Justus ignored him. “Unbelievable. Supposedly, this Flaw guy claims that he could build a space shuttle like that.”

“Well, maybe he can. I'd sure like to see that,” Bob said.

Peter got up groaning out of the car seat. “I'd much rather keep my feet on good old Planet Earth. Let's go down to the beach instead. Maybe we can find a few more seashells.”

Justus crumpled up the newspaper and nodded. Bob agreed too. The three ??? were just walking to their bikes, when they heard Uncle Titus honking the horn of his old red pickup, as he pulled into the yard.

“Hey, boys!” he called out through his rolled down window. “Could you help me pick up a few things? I got myself a real bargain!”

Justus sighed resignedly and parked his bike again. He had been living with his Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus ever since he was five years old, when his parents died in an accident. “Sure, Uncle Titus! What is it this time?”

Titus Jonas beamed from ear to ear. “You're never gonna believe this. Bud Norris sold me all of his bar furnishings.”

“Skinny's dad?” Peter blurted out. Skinny was the three ???'s archenemy and his father was no friend of Titus Jonas either.

“Yeah,” Uncle Titus replied. “We're not the best of friends, but he offered me the entire contents of his bar for just 400 dollars. That's a really good price.”

“Why would Bud Norris sell you his bar facilities?” Justus asked curiously. “Don't tell me he wants to close the place down?”

Norris' Bar

Norris' Bar was located in one of the side streets behind the market square in Rocky Beach. When the three ??? arrived with Uncle Titus, they saw Skinny busily carrying a stack of chairs out to the street.

“Just our luck,” Bob sighed, as Uncle Titus got out of the truck. “Now we'll have to have to deal with Skinny as well.”

Bob knew only too well that Skinny was always looking for an argument whenever he saw the three ???. The redheaded boy was slightly older than they were and he couldn't stand the fact that the chubby one, as he liked to call Justus, was smarter than he was.

But for once, Skinny totally ignored the three ???. Instead he ran straight over to Uncle Titus. “Where have you been? My father's been waiting two hours for you! And because you didn't come on time, I have to drag all these chairs out here myself!”

Uncle Titus patted the angry boy on the shoulder. “Hey, take it easy now!” He shook his head and was just about to go into the bar, when Bud Norris approached him. “Stop right there! You can't go inside!”

The bar owner stood right in front of the door and raised his hands defensively. “From now on, this place is closed!” He looked over to Skinny. “You carry on inside.”

Skinny nodded and slunk into the bar. Then Bud Norris turned towards Uncle Titus again. “Why didn't you come on time?”

Uncle Titus knit his eyebrows angrily. “I told you I'd come as soon as I can.”

“It takes ten minutes at the most to get from your measly junkyard to here, and I've been waiting for three hours! I don't know if I should sell you my inventory anymore!”

Inside the pickup, Peter gasped for air indignantly. “Politeness really isn't Bud Norris' thing, is it?”

Justus nodded. “You can say that again,” he murmured. “But one thing is clear: This guy has no intention of giving up his bar.”

In the street, Uncle Titus smiled politely. „If you don't wanna sell anymore, Norris, then just forget it. But I won't be coming back again. That's for sure.” He turned around to leave.

“Wait, Jonas!” Bud Norris stepped towards Uncle Titus.

“What's going on here anyway?” Justus whispered to his friends. He carefully peered across the street towards the bar. The curtains in the windows were closed and it was impossible to see what was going on inside the bar.

“Maybe they're renovating the place?” Bob thought. “Or perhaps they're preparing for some kind of party?”

“But that wouldn't really be a big secret, would it?” Peter answered. “And in that case, you wouldn't be selling all your furniture either.”

Justus pinched his lower lip thoughtfully. “Come on, let's go and take a look around the backside!” he suggested. “I'm just too curious. Are you coming with me?”

Bob and Peter nodded.

The three ??? quickly slipped out of the pickup. Nobody noticed the three friends as they ran around the corner of the building.

A second later, Justus stopped in his tracks. “What's going on here?” he exclaimed, baffled.

Bob and Peter also stared in amazement at the large truck parked right behind Norris' Bar. The doors were wide open and they saw the weirdest furniture in the loading area. There were tables that looked like boulders, and chairs that were shaped like small lunar modules. They had wide spidery legs, the seats were lacquered golden and the arms of the chairs were fitted with small cameras and mock headlights.

“This stuff is really funky!” Peter looked around him. “Does Bud Norris want to decorate his bar with all of this?”

“Sure looks like it.” Justus went over to the truck and stuck his head inside.

There was a huge, reddish globe dotted with craters hanging from the ceiling. “This is a model of Mars, my friends!” he shouted. “Do you know what I think? Bud Norris is decorating his bar as a Mars bar. He's making it all outer-spacey!”

Venus LemonMars CokeJupiter Orange