One might have expected the science fiction fan to have given up on Mars by now. To the Moon-shot optimists of the 1960s its colonisation seemed moments away; its surface would be littered with the structures of the civilisation promised by 19th century science: Lowell's canal builders and Tesla's radio hams. The Moon's conquest would be a mere stepping stone to the bloody disc beyond. The last half-century has failed to deliver on the promise of life on Mars, or even its remnant. The Viking programme and its successors provided only cold proof of the planet's lifelessness. Our own commitment to colonisation has correspondingly diminished: the West's most vocal proponents having something of the eccentric about them. Enthusiasm is further suffocated by the evident peril of the journey. Mars has a habit of swallowing up expeditions: NASA's Climate Orbiter and Polar Lander, Europe's Beagle 2, Russia's Roscosmos and, most recently, ESA's Schiaparelli lander.
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