They like dirt.
Very much like seeds, they have been waiting patiently for the Great White-Brown-Yellow-Black Lander to press them into the firm, secure soil.
Where they again wait patiently to achieve their full potential.
Which requires either liquid CO2 or water that will never come.
And the dim, distant memory of a brighter past which resides within their souls becomes dimmer and more distant with every passing gamma ray.
It's a sad story, really.
Sniff.