Format: Paperback, 400 pages
Release Date: March 18, 2025
Publisher: Tor Books
Source: Publisher
Genre: Science Fiction / Alternative History
Mary Robinette Kowal returns to Mars in this latest entry to the Hugo and Nebula Award-winning Lady Astronaut series.
“Kowal masters both science and historical accuracy in this alternate history adventure.”—Andy Weir, author of The Martian, on The Calculating Stars
“Kowal masters both science and historical accuracy in this alternate history adventure.”—Andy Weir, author of The Martian, on The Calculating Stars
Years after a meteorite strike obliterated Washington, D.C.—triggering an extinction-level global warming event—Earth’s survivors have started an international effort to establish homes on space stations and the Moon.
The next step – Mars.
Elma York, the Lady Astronaut, lands on the Red Planet, optimistic about preparing for the first true wave of inhabitants. The mission objective is more than just building the infrastructure of a habitat – they are trying to preserve the many cultures and nuances of life on Earth without importing the hate.
But from the moment she arrives, something is off.
Disturbing signs hint at a hidden disaster during the First Mars Expedition that never made it into the official transcript. As Elma and her crew try to investigate, they face a wall of silence and obfuscation. Their attempts to build a thriving Martian community grind to a halt.
What you don’t know CAN harm you. And if the truth doesn’t come to light, the ripple effects could leave humanity stranded on a dying Earth…
"I shall either find a way or make one"
The Martian Contingency is the Fourth installment in author Mary Robinette Kowal's Lady Astronaut Series. Set in an alternate history where a meteorite strike in 1952 devastates Earth and accelerates humanity’s push to the stars, this novel finds Elma York aka the Lady Astronaut and her team on Mars, tasked with laying the groundwork for a permanent human presence. Elma has been instrumental in getting women in the space program, while also helping getting people to the Moon, and now Mars where the story takes place where she will have more of a command responsibility.
Elma's optimistic about building a habitat that preserves Earth’s diverse cultures without its prejudices—a noble goal in a timeline where humanity’s survival hinges on escaping a dying planet. One of the main challenges has been a terrorist group known as Earth First which has caused serious damage to the plans of saving as many people on Earth before it's too late. But from the outset, something feels off. Kowal introduces a mystery rooted in the First Mars Expedition, hinting at a disaster buried in silence.
As Elma digs deeper into what happened during First Mars Expedition that seems to be buried in secrets and silence, she and her husband Nathaniel face a litany of challenges and cascading technical failures that threaten the mission. The stakes are clear: uncovering the truth could mean the difference between a thriving Martian colony and humanity’s extinction. The science, as always, is a highlight. Kowal’s explanations are accessible yet rigorous, grounding the narrative in a way that invites readers to geek out over Martian engineering while still feeling the weight of human stakes.
Still, those less versed in STEM might find themselves skimming, though the emotional core keeps the story relatable. Those who don't like to be preached at via religion or about abortion will likely find this book highly uncomfortable since the author spends way too much time on both. Compared to the series’ earlier entries, this book pushing Elma into new territory—literally and figuratively—while wrestling with the consequences of past missions. It’s not a standalone; familiarity with The Fated Sky and The Relentless Moon enriches the experience, as callbacks to prior events and characters deepen the stakes.
.png)
ONE
A NEW ELLINGTON SCORE MARKING THE RETURN TO MARS
Special to The National Times
KANSAS CITY, February 5, 1970—Duke Ellington has been commissioned to compose and perform an original score to celebrate man’s return to Mars. The Ellington composition takes about ten minutes to perform: It includes vocal music entitled “Mars Maid,” to be sung by Ella Fitzgerald.
President Wargin and Ellington watched together as the Marswalkers left their spacecraft this morning. “This is a tremendous day,” the president said, “as we take our next step to establishing a permanent presence on Mars to create a new safe haven for humanity.”
The performance will be staged in the New White House in Kansas City in mid-August when the second dome at Bradbury Base will be opened and the colonists now in orbit descend to their new home on Mars. The performance will be transmitted to the Red Planet for the enjoyment of the one hundred men and women living there.
Fem 50, Mars Year 5, Frisol, 1900 hours—Landing + 0 sols
Do you remember where you were when the stars came out? I was with my husband, on Mars.
So many pivotal moments in my life had involved stargazing before the Meteor. I hadn’t seen a clear night sky from the surface of a planet since it struck Washington, D.C., on March 3, 1952. Twenty-six million dead. Numbers have shape and texture in my head, and this one was dense and pitted and worn smooth from seventeen years of grief.
Seventeen years since the Meteor and here we were on Mars.
Above the undulating horizon of Gale Crater, the Martian night twinkled. The stars did not blaze in crystalline perfection the way they did in space. They sparkled through the atmosphere. Blue and red, silver and gold, danced against a deep purple.
The stars that had been our navigational aids on the voyage here drew my eye like old friends.
I wanted to linger on the surface of Mars and stargaze with Nathaniel, not knowing when I’d be suited up and outside at night again. But it was a selfish waste of consumables.
I needed to head into Bradbury Base, where the rest of the team was, but as soon as I did … as soon as I finished that last item on my checklist, I would stop being a pilot and switch to my other role as second-in-command on the mission.
Nathaniel leaned his helmet against mine. “What’s going on?”
“Hm?” I blinked and turned my head to smile brightly at him. We were on Mars! After years of working to get off Earth, we were here as part of the Second Mars Expedition. We were the next step in creating a new permanent home for humanity. I should be happy. I was happy. “Just enjoying the stars.”
“Uh-huh … For the record, how long have we been married?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Twenty years.”
“Twenty years! And none of this gear hides your fretting face.”
“Fretting face?” I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the line between my brows relax. “Fine. I’m fretting because I’m about to have to go inside and be in charge. Why did I let Nicole talk me into this?”
“Well, I mean, she is the president of the United States.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “And very persuasive.”
The bean counters back on Earth had wanted me—no, they’d wanted the famous Lady Astronaut of Mars in a visible command position to lend credibility to the mission. That should have come from the actual mission commander, but Leonard Flannery was Black. He was also eminently more qualified to be mission commander than I was. He’d landed on the planet on the first mission. I hadn’t. But I was very good at being a pretty face for publicity.
Thank God we were past the days where we had to avoid mentioning that I was Jewish. Mostly past.
“All right. Let me finish this checklist and we’ll go in.”
I walked around our landing craft, the Esther, one last time to check the tie-down straps. The landing pad was the same familiar shape as the one on the Moon, but a soft salmon instead of lunar gray. Everything felt different from training. I’d experienced spacesuits and Moon suits, both were stiffer than a Mars suit. Training on Earth, it was heavier. Training on the centrifugal ring of the Goddard, we always fought the Coriolis effect. Training on the Moon, you couldn’t hear the whisper of wind outside your helmet.
Wind. Just wind. Not the sound of a spacesuit failing.
The hours after landing had been a focused series of checklists and supervising the off-loading while other members of the team got the habitat up and running. Then I’d turned to making sure that the Esther was locked down since it would be a month, at best, before I launched again. And Martian months were fifty-five sols long, so beyond the checklists, I wanted to make sure my ship was tucked in snug and secure.
And she was. There was nothing left to do. The last box was checked on my list.
“Elma, come look.” Nathaniel stood between the Esther and the arched doorway into the base. “The Goddard is transiting.”
I didn’t run, because that’s a good way to fall and damage your suit. But I looked up as I walked to him. Across the dancing backdrop of the evening sky, the clear bright light of the Goddard, the ship that had brought us here, traced an arc across the heavens.
“Oh—” My breath caught at the sight of an evening star. We weren’t displaced enough in the galactic disc to make a difference, so we had the same stars and the same constellations. Except for one significant difference. “It’s Earth.”
Small and the palest blue, if you thought about the color blue while looking at it, our home planet sat low on the horizon to the west where the sun had set.
Nathaniel was silent as we leaned against each other in an embrace. I could feel his weight against me, but the details of his body were lost to the pressurized surfaces of our suits. He shifted. “Where?”
“See Orion? Follow the belt and then … it’s the one that’s bright like Venus.”
His helmet rested against mine and I could hear the telltale snuffle of an astronaut whose nose is running. You can’t wipe them in a spacesuit. It was good to know that the sheer joy of having made it here—to Mars—was making him cry, too.
When the Goddard passed below the horizon, I sighed and turned to look at Nathaniel. The one exterior light at Bradbury Base cast his face into yellow and gray relief.
My piloting work was truly done for tonight and I could feel the fatigue starting to catch up.
I squeezed Nathaniel’s hands. “How are things inside?”
“Starting to wind down for the night.” He nodded toward the dome, which cast a warm glow up through the bit of translucent curve that peeked above the regolith. “A couple of annoyances but nothing we didn’t plan for.”
“I can’t believe you suited up again to come back out for me.” And not just because putting on a Mars suit was tedious, but because he had voluntarily walked away from ongoing work.
“I wanted to be here when you looked up.”
Holding his hand, I took one last look at the night sky before walking back to the base. I could stare at the stars forever.
A NEW ELLINGTON SCORE MARKING THE RETURN TO MARS
Special to The National Times
KANSAS CITY, February 5, 1970—Duke Ellington has been commissioned to compose and perform an original score to celebrate man’s return to Mars. The Ellington composition takes about ten minutes to perform: It includes vocal music entitled “Mars Maid,” to be sung by Ella Fitzgerald.
President Wargin and Ellington watched together as the Marswalkers left their spacecraft this morning. “This is a tremendous day,” the president said, “as we take our next step to establishing a permanent presence on Mars to create a new safe haven for humanity.”
The performance will be staged in the New White House in Kansas City in mid-August when the second dome at Bradbury Base will be opened and the colonists now in orbit descend to their new home on Mars. The performance will be transmitted to the Red Planet for the enjoyment of the one hundred men and women living there.
Fem 50, Mars Year 5, Frisol, 1900 hours—Landing + 0 sols
Do you remember where you were when the stars came out? I was with my husband, on Mars.
So many pivotal moments in my life had involved stargazing before the Meteor. I hadn’t seen a clear night sky from the surface of a planet since it struck Washington, D.C., on March 3, 1952. Twenty-six million dead. Numbers have shape and texture in my head, and this one was dense and pitted and worn smooth from seventeen years of grief.
Seventeen years since the Meteor and here we were on Mars.
Above the undulating horizon of Gale Crater, the Martian night twinkled. The stars did not blaze in crystalline perfection the way they did in space. They sparkled through the atmosphere. Blue and red, silver and gold, danced against a deep purple.
The stars that had been our navigational aids on the voyage here drew my eye like old friends.
I wanted to linger on the surface of Mars and stargaze with Nathaniel, not knowing when I’d be suited up and outside at night again. But it was a selfish waste of consumables.
I needed to head into Bradbury Base, where the rest of the team was, but as soon as I did … as soon as I finished that last item on my checklist, I would stop being a pilot and switch to my other role as second-in-command on the mission.
Nathaniel leaned his helmet against mine. “What’s going on?”
“Hm?” I blinked and turned my head to smile brightly at him. We were on Mars! After years of working to get off Earth, we were here as part of the Second Mars Expedition. We were the next step in creating a new permanent home for humanity. I should be happy. I was happy. “Just enjoying the stars.”
“Uh-huh … For the record, how long have we been married?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Twenty years.”
“Twenty years! And none of this gear hides your fretting face.”
“Fretting face?” I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the line between my brows relax. “Fine. I’m fretting because I’m about to have to go inside and be in charge. Why did I let Nicole talk me into this?”
“Well, I mean, she is the president of the United States.” He gave a rueful chuckle. “And very persuasive.”
The bean counters back on Earth had wanted me—no, they’d wanted the famous Lady Astronaut of Mars in a visible command position to lend credibility to the mission. That should have come from the actual mission commander, but Leonard Flannery was Black. He was also eminently more qualified to be mission commander than I was. He’d landed on the planet on the first mission. I hadn’t. But I was very good at being a pretty face for publicity.
Thank God we were past the days where we had to avoid mentioning that I was Jewish. Mostly past.
“All right. Let me finish this checklist and we’ll go in.”
I walked around our landing craft, the Esther, one last time to check the tie-down straps. The landing pad was the same familiar shape as the one on the Moon, but a soft salmon instead of lunar gray. Everything felt different from training. I’d experienced spacesuits and Moon suits, both were stiffer than a Mars suit. Training on Earth, it was heavier. Training on the centrifugal ring of the Goddard, we always fought the Coriolis effect. Training on the Moon, you couldn’t hear the whisper of wind outside your helmet.
Wind. Just wind. Not the sound of a spacesuit failing.
The hours after landing had been a focused series of checklists and supervising the off-loading while other members of the team got the habitat up and running. Then I’d turned to making sure that the Esther was locked down since it would be a month, at best, before I launched again. And Martian months were fifty-five sols long, so beyond the checklists, I wanted to make sure my ship was tucked in snug and secure.
And she was. There was nothing left to do. The last box was checked on my list.
“Elma, come look.” Nathaniel stood between the Esther and the arched doorway into the base. “The Goddard is transiting.”
I didn’t run, because that’s a good way to fall and damage your suit. But I looked up as I walked to him. Across the dancing backdrop of the evening sky, the clear bright light of the Goddard, the ship that had brought us here, traced an arc across the heavens.
“Oh—” My breath caught at the sight of an evening star. We weren’t displaced enough in the galactic disc to make a difference, so we had the same stars and the same constellations. Except for one significant difference. “It’s Earth.”
Small and the palest blue, if you thought about the color blue while looking at it, our home planet sat low on the horizon to the west where the sun had set.
Nathaniel was silent as we leaned against each other in an embrace. I could feel his weight against me, but the details of his body were lost to the pressurized surfaces of our suits. He shifted. “Where?”
“See Orion? Follow the belt and then … it’s the one that’s bright like Venus.”
His helmet rested against mine and I could hear the telltale snuffle of an astronaut whose nose is running. You can’t wipe them in a spacesuit. It was good to know that the sheer joy of having made it here—to Mars—was making him cry, too.
When the Goddard passed below the horizon, I sighed and turned to look at Nathaniel. The one exterior light at Bradbury Base cast his face into yellow and gray relief.
My piloting work was truly done for tonight and I could feel the fatigue starting to catch up.
I squeezed Nathaniel’s hands. “How are things inside?”
“Starting to wind down for the night.” He nodded toward the dome, which cast a warm glow up through the bit of translucent curve that peeked above the regolith. “A couple of annoyances but nothing we didn’t plan for.”
“I can’t believe you suited up again to come back out for me.” And not just because putting on a Mars suit was tedious, but because he had voluntarily walked away from ongoing work.
“I wanted to be here when you looked up.”
Holding his hand, I took one last look at the night sky before walking back to the base. I could stare at the stars forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment