Alternate Reality:
The Girl Who Touched the Stars
by
Valentina Michelle Smith

* * * * *

Reality is a tenuous thing. Events can take different paths, diverge in unexpected manners, resulting in an entirely different plane of existence. In one reality, for instance, there is a certain neighborhood where magic is real and children thrive, and where you can get the best Reuben in the world. In another, this neighborhood might not exist, but parts of its spirit may be found in other places, if you look hard enough. This is a tale of an alternate reality, where magic is still real and children still thrive, but the search for that perfect Reuben might just be a little harder.

* * * * *

The day dawned warm and clear, without a hint of cloud or breeze. The air was slightly cool with the promise of comfortable warmth in the afternoon. The sun was arching upward in its trek across the sky. The land was budding green, heralding an explosion of lush growth to come. In short, it was a wonderful spring day, just perfect for flying a rocket.

Sarge, the proprietor of The Bear Market, was an interesting woman to say the least. Her name might be Nora Spencer, but everybody who knew her called her Sarge, even the children. Her face was tanned and worn, the product of years spent on the flight line as crew chief for her beloved aircraft. Curiously, it was not wrinkled, but seemed to display a sort of ageless quality, a youthfulness that did not diminish a wisdom born of experience.

One thing you had to say about Sarge, she was Air Force through and through. The walls of her store had pictures of her next to every aircraft she ever crew-chiefed, and she spoke of each one as though she were describing a child she had given birth to. She appeared in every one of them, leaning on a wing or a landing gear or, in the case of an AC-130 gunship, on the barrel of a 105mm howitzer. Her best friend Tina (who was also former Air Force) often said that Sarge had jet fuel for blood and sweat hydraulic fluid, and her red pencil spoke with the voice of God.

Sarge had anticipated this day all winter. She normally spent weekends working at her store in the Mall. But this day was special. She was taking two little girls out to the country to fly their first rockets. Maggie and Cathy were proud of their creations, and rightly so. They had built under the expert tutelage of Sarge and Tina, and were anxious to see their little craft soar into the sky. Cathy had built two rockets, and Maggie had built three. All were painted and ready to lift off. Tina had also built some rockets while showing the girls how to construct them properly. And Sarge had a few of her rockets of her own to fly.

The day began at The Bear Market. Sarge had hung a sign in the front door that read "Store Closed Today — Out to Launch." Cathy and Maggie paid the sign no heed as they entered the store they called "Plushies an' Wockets." The girls had actually outgrown toddler talk, but the younger kids from the Kid's Kamp gave the store its unofficial name, and in the minds of the girls it was carved in stone.

"Hi, Sarge!" they called out in unison. "We're here!"

"Baruchah is helping Mommy go shopping!" Maggie said.

Sarge turned to see her two "nieces" run into the store, displaying the seemingly boundless energy of youth. "Well hello, girls," she said. She could not help but smile at their enthusiasm. She was remembered her own youth, a time when all the world was huge and every experience new. Now she was guiding two young ladies in their own new experience. "So are you ready to go fly some rockets?"

"We are!" they said as one. "When do we go?"

"Just as soon as Tina and Doctor Misty show up," she replied. And as though it were on cue, the front door opened with a cheery jingle as Bill entered.

"Bill," said Nora, "I thought Tina was coming with us today."

"She is," he answered. "I was in a bit of a hurry when I left and didn't have time to Transfigure. Mind if I borrow your bathroom to change?"

"It's a little cramped in there, but go ahead."

"Thanks. I won't be a minute." Bill entered the small bathroom taking only his Blackthorn cane and closed the door behind him.

Sarge was a little bit embarrassed. "Girls, do you know about…?"

Maggie answered her question before it was finished. "It's okay, Sarge. Uncle Bill is gonna say the Transfergashun spell and turn into Aunt Tina. He does it all the time." She spoke with the candor only an eight-year-old possessed. Sarge was astonished. For her, witchcraft and sorcery were marvels beyond imagination, but for Cathy and Maggie it was just one more natural part of their accepted universe. It simply was. They accepted it, and that was that.

The doorbell jingled once more as a short, elfin woman entered. The girls recognized her immediately. "Doctor Misty!" they called out in unison, running to greet the new arrival with hugs.

Misty, the pediatrician in pink, scooped up both girls in her arms and lifted them up off the floor. "Well look who's here! If it isn't Cathy and Maggie! How are you little ladies doing today?" She was rewarded with two incredible hugs.

"Glad you could join us, Misty," said Sarge.

Misty set down the two girls and shook Sarge’s outstretched hand. "How could I resist the opportunity to spend some time with the girls flying rockets?"

Just then Tina emerged from the bathroom. She was physically a little smaller than her alter ego Bill with dark Auburn hair streaked with orange highlights. Her skin tone was swarthy, suggesting a Black Irish heritage, whereas Bill was about as white as they get with a complexion that betrayed long hours spent in fluorescent-lit caverns bathed in the radiation of cathode-ray tubes.

"Hello, Misty," Tina said. "It’s nice to see you."

"Good to see you too, Tina," said Misty.

"C'mon, Sarge!" said Maggie, "We want to go fly our rockets!"

"All right, girls, let's get going. Misty, did you bring your stuff?"

"I have it in my truck. Should I follow you?"

"No, there's enough room in the van. Why don't you load your stuff up and ride with us?"

"Sounds sweet to me; I get to sit back and play with these cute little ones. Now who needs some tickle therapy?" That always made Cathy and Maggie giggle.

They all piled into Sarge's camper van to drive to the country. Their destination was a dairy farm. The farm was located in a county proud of its rural status and anxious to preserve its open space. Zoning laws fairly well precluded the onslaught of suburban sprawl. This particular farmer felt an obligation to give something back to his community, and so he made the land available to hunters, school children, and some model rocket enthusiasts. Sarge learned of his generosity from a fellow hobbyist and secured permission to fly on his land.

Maggie and Cathy were excited, watching the roadside transform from the urban sidewalks they were familiar with to the more bucolic surroundings of the country. They were in awe of the herds of cows they observed as the farms passed by.

"Look, Aunt Tina!" said an animated Cathy, "there's cows everywhere!"

"I see them too, Aunt Tina!" young Maggie chimed in. "Look, those cows are brown, an' there's some black ones, and there's some with spots!"

"Goodness," said Tina, "you would think these girls have never seen cows before."

"They probably haven't," said Misty. "They grew up in the city, and the only place they ever see milk is in plastic jugs."

Sarge slowed down and turned into the road. It ran along behind the farmhouse and between the barn and several silos, winding beside fields of freshly planted alfalfa. They parked on a grassy area next to an open field.

The doors of the camper opened, and the company piled out. Immediately they were greeted with the earthy, musky smell of a farm. The girls reacted predictably.

"Eeeww!" said Maggie, "what's that smell?"

"That's just the cows, ladies," Misty said. "The farmer keeps the cow's droppings and he spreads it out on the field to make the alfalfa grow. So watch where you step!"

"Don't worry about the cow pies, girls," said Tina. "They're already in the soil fertilizing the alfalfa. The smell is from fresh manure, and that's kept in the barn. Just stay away from the pasture and you should be fine."

Sarge, Tina, and Misty unloaded the equipment from the back of the camper and set up the launch pads. Misty had brought two pads with her built from PVC pipe. Sarge had made her pad from an old camera tripod. Tina had a smaller commercial pad. The pads were set in a line about 40 feet from the camper and five feet apart from each other. Wires were run from each pad to a table that sat about 30 feet from each pad. The wires all connected to control panels and were hooked to batteries. Misty had a motorcycle battery powering her two controllers, while Sarge and Tina used gel-cell batteries.

"Remember, girls," said Sarge to Maggie and Cathy, "safety is important. Don't go to the pad unless I say you can, and whenever we arm the launchers you have to stay here at the table. And we don't run after the rocket until I give the all clear. You understand?"

"We understand, Sarge," Cathy answered for the two of them.

"Good. Well, let's prep your rockets for launch."

Maggie had painted her first rocket orange, to match the fur of her plush kitten, Pixel. Cathy had painted hers pink and decorated it with stickers. They were the cutest little rockets Sarge had ever seen. Misty had a rocket with raked fins and a very futuristic appearance.

"That looks familiar, Misty." said Tina, who was prepping a Big Bertha.

"It should,” Misty replied. “It's a classic Centuri Laser-X clone. I found the plans on the web."

Motors were loaded and igniters installed. Recovery wadding was installed and parachutes were checked and double-checked. The rockets were placed over the guide rods on the pads and the igniter leads were hooked up. Then the daring rocketeers returned to the launch control table.

"Maggie," said Sarge, "you're my Range Safety Officer. Do you see any aircraft in the sky?"

Maggie scanned the heavens, taking her role seriously. "No aircraft, Sarge!"

"Good. Pad 1 is armed. We're launching Cathy's pink rocket. Countdown. 5-4-3-2-1. Launch!" Sarge pressed the launch button. Out on Pad 1, a hiss emerged from Cathy's model, which then leaped into the sky on a column of smoke and fire.

The thrust lasted for less than a second, but that was all it took to get to a speed of about 300 miles an hour. The little rocket then coasted on the speed it had built up, slowing down as it trailed tracking smoke. Then, as it dwindled into a dot, it arced over and began to return to earth. But before it could fall very far, a gentle pop sounded. The ejection charge pushed the small parachute out of the airframe tube, and Cathy's rocket settled slowly and gently to the ground, finally landing about 20 feet from the pad.

"Nice flight, Cathy!" said Sarge. "Okay, Maggie, it's your turn. Is the sky clear?"

Maggie made a quick scan of the sky. "All clear, Sarge. But Pixel wants to launch her rocket for herself."

"Oh, she does now?" Sarge said.

"Yes, she told me so," said Maggie. "Can she launch it? Please?"

"Of course she can," said Sarge. She placed the plush kitten's paw on the launch button. "All right, Pixel! Countdown. 5-4-3-2-1. Launch!" Now the orange rocket rose from the pad trailing smoke and fire. Cathy and Maggie cheered as the tiny model coasted into the sky, finally popping out its chute and settling gently to earth.

In a similar manner, Tina's Big Bertha and Misty's Laser-X lifted off. Sarge removed the arming keys from the control panels and gave permission to Maggie and Cathy to retrieve their rockets. Misty walked out to the field with them, picking up Tina's rocket for her. She showed the girls how to stow the parachutes back into the body tubes, making it easier to carry them back.

Tina was busy prepping a rocket of her own. Maggie looked at it curiously. "What's that rocket, Aunt Tina?"

"It's a scale model, Maggie," she replied. "This is a Mercury-Redstone, like the one that took Alan Shepard into space. He was the first American to fly in space."

"So he was the first man in space?" she asked.

"No, the first person in space was a Russian Cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin. Shepard was the second person who flew in space."

"Wow. Did Yuri fly in a rocket like that?"

"No, he flew in a much different kind of rocket called the Vostok. It was actually much bigger than this."

"But not as big as this one, little kitten!" said Misty, bringing out another model. "This is a Saturn V. This was the rocket that took us to the moon."

Maggie's green eyes widened in amazement at the model Misty had brought out. It was almost as tall as she was! She almost forgot to prep her own rocket until Tina reminded her to get it ready. Four more rockets were put on the pads, and four more sailed skyward.

This pattern repeated over the next few hours, with everybody flying different models.

Finally it was time to go home. Sarge, Tina, and Misty went about the task of disassembling the launch pads and wrapping up the control wires. It had been a busy day.

Maggie was at Tina's side, helping her put the equipment away. She could not help but notice a little tear make its way down Tina's face. "Aunt Tina," she asked, "what's wrong? I thought you liked flying rockets."

Tina wiped away the tear. "Oh, I do love them, it's just that I was thinking about when I was younger."

"You mean when you were little?"

"Yes, when I was little. It was right in the middle of the space race, when everybody was talking about going to the moon. My heroes were the Mercury astronauts, and I wanted to go into space just like them. I wanted to be an astronaut."

"Did you try to be an astronaut, Aunt Tina?"

"Oh, yes, I tried. I did everything I could to get into the Air Force Academy. I didn't make it, but I managed to get into ROTC. That was my ticket to pilot training, and I hoped into space."

"Did you know I was a test pilot, Maggie?" she asked.

"Really? Wow! Did you fly jets?"

"I sure did. I got to try out all of the new jets and the experimental aircraft. And Sarge was the crew chief for most of them. I could always count on a smooth-running bird when Sarge was the chief.

“One of our test birds, the X-57, was actually designed to go into low earth orbit. I got to fly it on its first few tests. I actually flew it to the edge of space, Maggie. But they cut the funding before I could fly it to orbit.”

Tina sighed. "By the time I could apply to NASA, the Apollo program was winding down, and the Space Shuttle was just a dream. It would be many years before we would need new astronauts, and I was caught in the middle. So I never got my shot at being an astronaut in NASA.

"Eventually they cut back on the X-planes budget, so they didn't need as many test pilots. That was when my life took a different path." Tina's mind wandered to her fateful meeting with a recruiter for Air Force Special Operations, and how she started her new career as a “spook”, performing functions vital to America's security that she could never tell anyone about, not even her fellow Aunties of the Sisterhood. It was an exciting life, and she had no regrets, save one.

In the silence, Maggie said something profound. "Aunt Tina, do you think I could go to space some day?"

Tina looked at the little red-haired girl with the piercing green eyes. "You know something, I believe you just might."

* * * * *

The world can change profoundly in thirty years. Science and technology could make staggering leaps, making available wonders unimagined. Attitudes of prejudice and intolerance could somehow seem to vanish. And the national will of a people could also change decidedly.

It didn't happen overnight, but it happened. Where people once had been blasé and dismissive of space exploration, it now seemed to capture everyone's imagination. Everyone followed the news of the American and Russian lunar colonies and the three orbital space platforms of China, Russia, and America. On the commercial side, Trump Geosynch was turning an enormous profit in Space Tourism, and ground had been broken for Disney Port Armstrong, the first Lunar theme park and resort. Once again, space was king. And leading the charge was Mars Expedition 1.

The expedition was much grander than the original advocates of a Mars mission ever envisioned. A transfer vehicle with two landing craft powered by a VASIMR nuclear motor had been built in orbit. The 40-megawatt engine cut the travel time to Mars from a planned nine months to less than four. And the expedition mounted not one lander, but two, each with six astronauts and a payload of equipment and supplies. For these landers would serve as the first components of a permanent base on the red planet. Humanity was coming to stay.

And yet, despite profound change, some things just seem eternal. For instance, a certain park located between US1 and the Interstate managed to retain its unique flavor despite the passage of time. True, people could not escape the inevitable onslaught of the years (although the Aunties who owned and operated the Little Kids Kamp and their guys seemed to remain in their twenties, and for some reason nobody found this to be unusual); they accumulated their fair share of wrinkles, aches, and hair loss. Children grew old, and had children of their own. But the essential character of the park survived. Children could still play hopscotch and jump rope, or go to the amusement park, or go shopping at the mall, protected from any harm by the patient supervision of their parents, aunties, and the camp counselors. One could still walk into the curious and wonderful shops of the Mall, which partially subsidized the Little Kids' Kamp. And one could still get the best Reuben in the known universe at Bob's Cyber Café.

Bob's was a most unique establishment. Located on US1, it was generally overlooked by the folks who drove by. It was almost as though people might consider stopping in for a bite to eat, and then get distracted and drive on. But for the mommies and daddies who watched over their very special children at the Kid's Kamp, Bob's was a welcome oasis, a place where they could gather, relax, and enjoy some of Bob's special coffees and teas from around the world, along with some decent food at a decent price. The wi-fi connection was an added bonus.

In one corner of Bob's was the children's section. It was furnished with child-sized tables and chairs and had an assortment of toys and books just perfect for a kid. It was also the place where Aunt Tina told her stories on Saturday afternoons, and held her reading club where she introduced young readers to the wonders of Harry Potter, Bilbo Baggins, Jack Hawkins, Phileas Fogg, and an irascible curmudgeon named Robert A. Heinlein.

And did I mention that, by virtue of having the best Reuben in the known universe, it was the unofficial gathering place of the Sisterhood? All of the Aunties (except Shelly who faithfully observed Kosher dietary law) enjoyed the corned beef concoction that Bob assembled.

It was on a very special afternoon that the Sisters and their friends and family all gathered inside Bob's. They had come to cheer one of their own as she made history millions of miles away.

Bob looked much the same as always. He was a burly man with a barrel chest and strong, muscular arms. He had the kind of face that always wore a smile. At least, a frown would be very much out -of-place on it. He was bringing some milk and cookies over to the children's table, where three little girls and a pair of twin boys were riveted to the computer screen.

"So are you kids excited?" he asked.

"You bet, uncle Bob!" one of the boys answered. "Mommy's gonna land on Mars today!"

Bob looked at the two redheaded boys, Mitch and Chuck. Their mother had left over four months ago, but they managed to keep in touch with video messages every day. As Bob watched he was reminded of a day, many years ago, when a tall red-haired meter maid fainted in front of his cafe. He brought her in, gave her a diet soda and a sandwich, and set in motion a chain of events that led to this momentous day.

A petite blond waitress, JoAnne, interrupted his musing. "Hey boss, Kimmee and Misty both want Reuben's a' la Bob. Can you fix them up?"

"Sure thing," said Bob. He looked up at the crowd that had gathered. In one booth, Kimmee and Misty, two of the Little Kids Kamp's doctors, sat with Nora “Sarge” Griscom (nee Spencer) and her husband Mike. Sarge's teenage daughter Rachael was waiting tables for Bob, and her younger daughter Madeline was seated at the children's table. Their oldest son, Rob, was in his second year at Annapolis. Somewhere along the line, Sarge had met a guy and fallen in love, something that surprised everybody who knew her. Sarge simply said she finally had met a guy who was almost as lovable as one of her aircraft, and asked everybody to overlook the fact that he was a retired Green Beret. Bob walked over to chat.

"Can you believe it?" he asked. "Our little kitten is landing on Mars today."
"I envy her," Sarge said. "You don't know how much I wanted to go into space. I am so glad she realized her dream."

"So am I," said Misty. "I can't believe this is the same little girl Shelly would bring in for checkups and shots and skinned elbows. I'll bet Shelly is proud of her."

Shelly was sitting with Cathleen, Baruchah, and Jenna. Cathleen and Baruchah were now grown women, and Cathleen now had a husband, Frank Scanlon, who also sat with them. They were enjoying some muffins and tea along with Maggie's husband, Mark Flannery.

"How hard has it been handling the boys without their mother?" asked Jenna.
"Oh, it hasn't been too bad," Mark replied. "Besides, I got a lot of help from their Grandma."

"It was a pleasure, Mark," said Shelly. "I get to spoil them and then hand them back to you for baths and bedtime. If I knew that being the grandmother was this much fun I would have done it first."

"The boys love you, Shelly. I'm glad you can watch them when I'm at work."
Just then a voice sounded out. It was Bill. "Hey folks, I'm getting the NASA feed now. Everybody check it out on their monitors!"

Millions of miles away, Maggie had her hands full.

The feed was delayed several minutes, thanks to the inevitable lag of radio propagation. Data could move through space at the speed of light and no faster. So the cheering from Earth would happen a few minutes after the actual landing.

Right now this did not matter one bit to Maggie. Her hands were on the controls of the lander as it plunged through the tenuous Martian atmosphere. Six souls were literally in her hands, her own and the crew of the lander.

"Houston, attitude nominal. We are in position to deploy chute." She did not wait for acknowledgment, since the answer would take minutes to receive. She had to rely on her own judgment, her training, and the mission profile. She flicked a switch on the panel. Outside, the hypersonic parachute was propelled out of its canister, capturing the thin air of Mars in its folds. It unfolded with a sharp snap, rapidly decelerating the lander.

Maggie still had some control over the flight. The chute was, for all intents and purposes, an inflatable wing, and aerodynamic control could be exercised via the shroud lines. It allowed her to position the landing craft over the target zone and kill most of their horizontal velocity for final insertion.

"Maggie, I have positive contact with the probe," said Joyce Aiken, her crewmate. The probe was a robotic craft sent on ahead to scout the proposed landing area. It included a homing beacon that Joyce was now tracking. "We are on nominal glide slope for landing."

"Confirmed," said Jeff Franklin, her co-pilot. "Looks like we're right in the slot, skipper."

"Acknowledged, guys," Maggie said. "Let's stay sharp. We don't want to screw the pooch when we're this close."

She worked the controls while alternating her attention between the bank of instruments and her own view. The lander was oriented so that she had a limited direct view from her window. For landing she would have to rely on the instruments and the rear-looking camera. She had made this run many times in the simulator, and killed her virtual crew more than once. But now she felt confident.

"We are over the landing site. Preparing to cut lines for final decent. On my mark. Three. Two. One. Cut!"

Jeff flipped the line switch and the lander fell free, pulled down by a gravity that was slightly more than a third of the Earth's. Now Maggie moved her hand to the throttle at her side and advanced it. "Landing motor to fifty percent. Landing motor to seventy percent. Full thrust." The lander vibrated under the thrust of the motor. Its speed dropped to zero. Maggie read her instruments and reduced thrust. Slowly, the lander dropped to the surface, riding fire in the Martian sky.

"Contact light on," Jeff announced. A meter-long probe that extended from one of the landing pads had touched the surface.

"Acknowledged," Maggie said. "Shutting motor off." She pulled the throttle back, turning off the supply of fuel to the motor. With no force to oppose it, the lander dropped the last meter, bouncing slightly as the shock absorbers actuated.

"Houston," said Maggie, keying her mike to transmit, "Olympus Base reporting. Challenger has landed."

Challenger was the name chosen by the crew. It was almost rejected by NASA who did not wish to invoke the name of one of its most notorious disasters, but the crew would not accept any other name. Likewise, the second lander bore the name Columbia, and each lander had the name of the fallen shuttle astronauts emblazoned on its skin.

As news of the landing reached Earth, boisterous cheers rang out. Mission control in Houston temporarily looked the other way on its smoking ban as cigars were passed around and fired up. But in the lander now resting on Olympus Rupes, just southeast of Olympus Mons, there was only a sigh as six nervous souls relaxed for the first time in hours.

"Okay, people," said Maggie, "let's go down the checklist. We now have a rest period and go EVA in six hours. Then Jeff, Lenny, and I will make our way down the ladder and step off together."

That's when she noticed a conspiratorial wink being exchanged between her crewmates. Jeff spoke up. "Skipper, we took a vote, and we decided that there can only be one first person on Mars. And we also decided that it has to be you."

Maggie looked at her crew in disbelief. "Look, you know the rules. No solo EVA's. There has to be at least two people out at any time, and the landing protocol calls for three of us to go together for the first trip out."

"And we're going to be right behind you," Jeff replied. "But none of this stepping off together bull. Think about it, how will history know who spoke the first words on Mars if three people talk at once? You go first, Thundercat. You earned it."

Maggie was taken aback when Jeff used her old call sign. They had flown together during their early days as test pilots, and knew each other's call sign well. NASA didn't use call signs.

Jeff continued to press. "Go ahead, Mags, we'll be right behind you. Go plant the flag and say something profound. Besides, it'll give us a head start to get back in the lander when the Tharks grab you first."

Maggie just had to laugh at Jeff's reference to Burroughs' character from the early 20th century. "All right," she said, "I won't argue. But what am I going to say?"

"You'll think of something as you suit up. So let's get going."

"What, right now? We're supposed to take a rest break before EVA."

"For crying in a bucket, Maggie, we just landed on Mars. Do you really think we're going to be able to sleep? I sure can't! So let's go work up a sweat and get tired enough to rack out for real!"

"This is mutiny, you know!" she said.

"So court martial us when we get back to Earth. Now suit up!"

Maggie gave up arguing. She made her way down to the habitation ring of the lander where the air lock was located and the EVA suits were stored, along with Jeff Franklin and Leonard Brown, her crewmates. As they helped each other get into the EVA suits, her thoughts turned back to a day over thirty years ago, when a tall, skinny transsexual meter maid with thinning hair found her way into a certain cyber café back on Earth, and her life took a dramatic change. She remembered how she had been transformed into a little girl, and started her life over as the daughter of a witch, Shelly shalimar. Shelly had given Maggie a special tea to make her forget her former life, but the effects of the tea wore off over time, and the memories returned.

No matter, she thought as she adjusted the fecal containment unit about her waist and pulled on the thermal regulating underwear. She had been given a marvelous opportunity to do life over, and this time she had discovered the secret. It really wasn't all that difficult. We just need to keep that child inside of all us alive. For while Maggie might have grown to adulthood, she never lost that sense of wide-eyed wonderment and playful eagerness every child has. She felt sorry for those who suppressed their inner child, much as she had many years ago, for they approached the world with a jaded cynicism. So much better to be a child, where every experience is new and fresh, and every day is a joyful one.

The three astronauts had now completely suited up and entered the airlock. Jeff worked the controls to cycle the air out of the chamber, equalizing the pressure with the thin atmosphere of Mars. The hatch opened, and human eyes beheld the Martian landscape for the first time.

Maggie stepped forward. She turned and climbed down the ladder, her crewmates still at the top, and made her way to the footpad. "Last chance, guys," she called up. "Are you sure you don't want to share this with me?"

"We're sure, skipper," said Lenny. "Hey, it never hurt Buzz Aldrin, did it?"

Maggie said, "No, I suppose not." Then she turned and looked out over the landscape.

They had landed at a scarp just southwest of Olympus Mons, the tallest mountain known to man in the Solar system. The view was magnificent and just a little bit overwhelming.

As she stood at the footpad, Maggie stretched forth with her senses the way her mother Shelly had taught her. Wouldn't it just scare the pants off a few people at NASA if they knew that their star astronaut was also a full-fledged witch? But Maggie had continued her magical training under Shelly's expert tutelage, just as she studied and mastered the arcane arts of Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Thermodynamics. After all, what was magic if not another kind of technology?

There it was! She could sense it! The power was there! She knew that this new planet would be a welcome haven for the human race.

Now was the time. Humanity was holding its collective breath as she stood on the footpad. "Oh, Lord," she said to the people listening back on Earth, "I wish I were a poet so I could do justice to what I'm now seeing. I can see Olympus Mons just to the right of me. The sun is low in the sky, and the sky is pink. The ground has a rusty sort of tinge to it, and the ground seems to be littered with rocks of various sizes. Okay, I'm stepping off the pad."

She stepped forward, and her boot hit the regolith of Mars. "This is for all the children of the world, that they may touch the stars."

Back on Earth, in millions of gathering places all over the globe, a cheer emerged that was heard around the world. People of every land, in every language, cheered and offered prayers of thanks. And perhaps it was loudest at a certain cyber café near a certain park of a certain city that Maggie called home.

Already millions of journalists recorded her words, preserving them for posterity. The flickering video images would be archived in the vaults of history, and forever etched in the minds of all who witnessed them. For decades, people would stop and ask others, "What were you doing when?" It had become a defining moment for humanity, and Maggie's words were now forever associated with it. For with those words, Colonel Margaret Baruchah (O'Malley) (Johnson) Flannery, test pilot, astronaut, and mother of twin boys, became the first human being to set foot on the planet Mars.

Copyright  © 2004, 2007, Valentina Michelle Smith

My thanks to Shelly shalimar, who suggested that this story might fit well in her Little Kids Kamp universe, and who graciously proofread the story, corrected some typos, and made some needed changes. The story is all the better for her contributions.

This story is respectfully dedicated to the men and women, whatever their nationality, who have given their lives in the conquest of space.