The science of Contact came into being as a result of a government-subsidized "crash" program in the early seventies, following on the heels of the disastrous second Mars landing.
The first flight to Mars had been simple in intent. The job of the men on board had been merely to land in one piece and radio the joyous news back to Earth, to take some samplings of soil and air, some photographs and then return to Earth. All this was accomplished without incident.
It was the second Mars landing that occasioned the discovery of the quilties. These furry beasts, somewhere between marmosets and koalas in appearance save for overall bright orange and green tangles of fur, were found to be friendly, and unanimously adopted by the crew members as mascots and pets. The animals, disarmingly akin to ambulant rag-toys cut from patchwork counterpanes, did indeed deserve the nickname of "quilties". They were cuddly, friendly, with sad eyes and mournful squeaky voices that endeared them to all the men on that flight.
Fortunately, their discovery was radioed back to Earth along with the usual information in that first day's report. There were no subsequent messages.
Mars Flight Three found the remains of the crew where the quilties had left them.
On investigation by the ship's doctor, it was found that the biology of the quilty was similar to that of a hornet, and they considered man—as they would anything warm and fleshy—in the relative position of a caterpillar. During the cuddling with the small beasts, minute hairlike spines at the base of the quilties' tails had managed to prick the flesh of the crewmen. By the following morning, the men had been eaten to death from within by the grubs of gestating baby quilties.
All of this, of course, is common knowledge today. But it is mentioned here solely to demonstrate to you the monumental hazards which an astronaut had to encounter in the days before the discovery of Contact, and the development of the Space Zoologist, without whose training, courage and efforts extra-Terran colonization would be next to impossible.
"CONTACT—Its Application and
Indigenous Hazards"
by Lt. Commander Lloyd Rayburn,
U. S. Naval Space Corps
Lieutenant Jerry Norcriss stood at the edge of the wide green clearing, sniffing contentedly of the not-unpleasant air of Arcturus Beta. Three hundred yards behind him, crewmen and officers alike labored to unload the equipment necessary for setting up camp for this, their first night on the planet.