Mars (61 page)

All of the following questions were about “real, live Martians.” Most of them were directed at Jamie, who felt that their questions were generally trivial and terribly repetitious. He remembered a friend of his, a lawyer, who always replied to questions he felt to be redundant with a curt, “Asked and answered.”

Joanna interrupted him once to say, “I want to make
certain that everyone understands exactly what we have found here on Mars. We have discovered living organisms, somewhat the same as terrestrial lichens. We have
not
found any evidence at all for the existence of intelligent Martians, even intelligent Martians who might have become extinct ages ago.”

Jamie nodded agreement. “That’s right. My speculations about intelligent Martians are nothing more than speculations, based on a rock formation that we’ve seen from a distance.”

At last Brumado announced that each of the twelve chosen reporters had been heard from. “Now we must break away to the White House. The President and Vice-President of the United States have a few words to say to our explorers.”

The screen flickered, then showed the President smiling from a deep leather-covered wing chair by a marble fireplace and mantle. A portrait of Thomas Jefferson was visible behind him.

“I want to add my congratulations and best wishes to you on Mars,” said the President in his warmest manner. “You have made a magnificent accomplishment and everyone in the nation, everyone in the world, is thrilled by your discovery.”

The view on the screen widened to show the Vice-President, wearing a kelly green pants suit that offset her blonde coiffure nicely, sitting in a smaller armchair across the empty fireplace from the President. A bronze bust of Jefferson stood on the table to the right of her chair.

“I want to offer my personal congratulations to you all, and to assure you that this administration will do everything in its power to support the further exploration of Mars.” She lowered her eyes modestly for a moment, but her voice remained sharp and strong as she added, “And if the people of this great nation choose me to lead them in the next administration, we will support continued missions to Mars as well as the economic development of cislunar space.”

Connors huffed. “I wonder if she knows what cislunar means?”

“One of her aides does,” Jamie said. “That’s good enough for now.”

Brumado’s face came back on the screen, announcing that
the President of the Russian Federation would now say a few words.

The two-way radio buzzed. Jamie leaned between the two women, turned off the sound on the TV altogether, and flicked the answering switch.

“Li Chengdu here.” The expedition commander’s voice issued thinly from the radio speaker. “I am afraid that there is a long line of politicians waiting to appear on television. It would be more useful if you prepared your vehicle to leave the valley rather than watching their orations. We will tape everything here so that you may see it when you have the time.”

Jamie turned to glance at Connors, who nodded agreement. “Yessir,” he said. “We’ll contact the dome when we’re ready to move.”

“Very good.”

Ilona got up slowly from the right-hand seat and straightened to her full height and stretched her back, catlike. “Call me if they get down to the Israeli prime minister.”

Jamie laughed and reached for the switch to turn off the radio.

“One further question.” Li’s voice froze them all. “What is the status of your physical condition?”

Glancing at their tired, wan faces, Jamie replied, “Whatever it is, we’ve all got it. Aches, weakness—it’s slowing us down.”

“I have decided to send Dr. Yang down to the dome. She will arrive within a few hours to assist Dr. Reed. It is imperative that you return to the dome within forty-eight hours so that you may be given medical attention.”

“But what is it?” Jamie asked. “What’s wrong with us all?”

For a long moment there was no sound from the radio speaker except the faint crackle of static. Finally Li said, “We do not yet know. But based on the rate of deterioration of your health, it is urgent that you reach the dome for treatment quickly. As quickly as you can.”

Jamie started to ask what would happen if they couldn’t reach the dome in the next forty-eight hours. But he held his tongue. He did not really want to hear the answer.

W
ASHINGTON
: The Vice-President’s smile disappeared the instant the last of the camera crew left.

It was unusual for the media corps to swarm into the Vice-President’s office, but this had been a very unusual day. A news conference from Mars. And that damned Indian had weaseled out of his end of the bargain.

She glared at the two aides who remained in the room. Her media secretary was at the little cabinet that served as a bar. Harvey Todd, her aide for science and technology, was fidgeting nervously as he slowly paced in front of the curtained windows. He’s got a lot to be nervous about, the Vice-President said to herself. She got up from the small sofa where she had dealt with the reporters and stalked to her desk. It was a tiny, delicately curved desk of gleaming dark rosewood, beautifully proportioned to the Vice-President’s own slight frame.

Her media secretary handed her a frosted glass of vodka citron as the Vice-President sat herself in the maroon swivel chair behind the desk.

The Vice-President took one small sip of her ice-cold drink, then said to Todd, “Well?”

He looked startled. He was the small, nervous type, his hair thinning despite the fact that he was barely into his thirties. He looked soft, but inwardly he was sharp as a razor; he carried degrees from Princeton in political science and management. His favorite author was Niccolò Machiavelli.

He swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I thought the conference went very well, didn’t you?” he asked the media secretary, a note of desperation in his voice.

She nodded but did not smile.

“That goddammed Indian never said a word about backing me,” the Vice-President snarled. “I went out on the limb for him and he just talked about frigging
Martians
!”

“Well, he is a scientist …”

“Bullshit!”

The media secretary sat herself on the sofa that her boss had just vacated and crossed her legs primly. “We have his written statement,” she said. “You can release it whenever you choose to.”

“He should have said he was going to support me,” the Vice-President insisted.

“I’m not sure that this particular hookup was the right time to make such an announcement,” Todd said timidly, rubbing a forefinger across his round chin.

“What the hell did they teach you at Princeton?” the Vice-President fairly screamed. “What would be a better time, with the whole frigging world watching on TV? An endorsement from Mars, for god’s sake! What could make a bigger impression on the voters, you jelly-brained imbecile?”

The media secretary headed for the bar. Todd tried to return his boss’s angry stare but failed; he turned away and focused instead on the painting he had arranged to have hanging in the office: an original Bonestell starscape.

“I can think of a better time for him to announce his support,” said the media secretary as she poured straight bourbon into a tumbler full of ice cubes.

“You can?”

“When they land back on Earth.
Everybody
will be watching that. And you won’t have to compete with Martians for the media’s attention, either.”

The Vice-President’s angry expression softened into a thoughtful scowl. She sipped at her drink. Todd cast an utterly grateful look at the media secretary. She smiled at him and mouthed silently, You owe me one.

“What’d I tell you?” Connors puffed. “Light as feathers.”

The astronaut and Jamie were shoveling away the red dust that had piled up against the rover’s side. Jamie thought that the stuff was so light they could engage the electric motors and the wheels would churn right through it. But Connors insisted that they take no chances, or at least as few as possible. So the two of them dug, despite their weariness, despite the pain that shot through their arms and legs, despite the growing nausea that was surging through Jamie’s gut in hot sickening waves.

The morning mist was almost entirely gone, merely a few wavering tendrils clinging to spots along the cliff wall where the sun did not reach. The cliffs themselves stood towering over them, immense rugged fortifications that blotted out half the sky and marched beyond the horizon both to their right and to their left.

The orange streaks of the lichen stood out sharper than ever against the red rocks. Jamie wondered if the lichen colonies on the ground had some method of shaking off the dust that now covered the canyon floor to a depth of several inches. We won’t be here long enough to see, he knew. And we don’t have a remote TV camera to set up here and watch them for us, dammit.

The dust billowed up as their shovels bit into it, rising in strangely soft, slow clouds that drifted dreamlike on the gentle wind wafting down the canyon. Jamie saw that Connors’s suit was covered with the rust-colored dust almost up to his armpits. He looked down and saw that his own blue suit was similarly splashed with rust.

“One good thing,” Connors was panting, “about this stuff. … It doesn’t …cling to your … visor.”

Jamie nodded inside his helmet.

“On the moon … damned dust sticks … it … gets charged … with static … electricity.”

“Save your breath,” Jamie said.

“Yeah …”

The two women were inside battening down the lab module for the trip. Their precious specimens of lichen were already safely protected in insulated containers. Ilona had worried that the lichen might die for lack of sunlight until Joanna pointed out that they obviously could lie dormant for long periods without light when sandstorms covered the rocks for days or even weeks on end.

“I think … that’s … good enough,” Connors panted as Jamie dug around the rearmost wheel on the logistics module.

“Think we’ve got … enough traction?” Jamie was gasping too.

“Yeah. … Looks okay.”

“Let’s try it.”

They trudged back to the airlock, utterly weary, and clambered inside. Jamie would have left his shovel outside, but Connors insisted that they stow both shovels in their proper place in the outside equipment bay of the lab module. Pete hasn’t lost his sense of detail, at least, Jamie thought. Must be his astronaut training.

It took more than an hour for them to squirm out of their suits and vacuum them clean, even with Joanna and Ilona helping them. Ilona was not much help; she was very weak. We must look pathetic, Jamie thought. I’m glad Mikhail isn’t here to see us.

“Get some food into you,” Joanna said, looking ashen herself.

Jamie’s insides were boiling. “I don’t think I could keep anything down.”

“Energy bars, at least. The glucose will do you good.”

Ilona slumped on the bench in the midship area, her eyes barely open.

Connors pulled the refrigerator open. “Maybe some juice. … I feel like I’ve got a hangover. A bad one.”

“Juice will raise your blood sugar,” Joanna said. “That will be good.”

The orange juice was entirely gone. There was no other juice in the capacious refrigerator except tomato. Connors grabbed the plastic container and pulled off its cap. Raising it to his lips he took four big gulps, then handed it to Jamie.

Thinking that if whatever was ailing them was infectious it didn’t matter now, Jamie drained the container almost to the end.

“There are juice concentrates in the freezer,” Ilona called weakly from where she sat.

“Do we have enough water?” Jamie asked.

“Yes, we should,” Joanna said. “I’ll see to it.”

Connors shambled off toward the cockpit. But he got no farther than the benches halfway there. He sagged onto the bench opposite Ilona.

“My … legs … Jesus, they … won’t carry me.”

Jamie pushed past Joanna toward the astronaut, driven on a sudden spurt of adrenaline. Connors’s eyes looked frightened. Joanna’s, terrified.

“What’s the matter, Pete?”

“Can’t … I just feel … so damned weak …”

“Okay. Okay. Just sit there. Get your strength back.”

“But we got … to get started.”

“I can drive.”

“You?”

“I can do it. I know how.”

“Yeah … but …”

Jamie made a smile big enough for them all to see. “Just like driving pickups in New Mexico. No sweat.”

Wishing he truly felt that confident, Jamie made his way to the cockpit and slid into the driver’s seat. He had been trained to operate the rover as a backup, of course, and he had watched Vosnesensky and Connors for enough hours. He had even driven the rover under their skeptical eyes.

Can you do it all alone? Jamie asked himself. Hell yes, he replied silently. I’ve got to.

Taking his time, going deliberately slowly, carefully, Jamie checked out the control panel from one end to the other. Then he touched the switch that started the drive motors. Beneath his seat the electric generator whined to a higher pitch. Funny how you never notice the damned thing humming
away until it changes its tune, Jamie said to himself. Or stops altogether.

“Here we go,” he called over his shoulder. Ilona made a weak smile back at him. Joanna was sitting beside Connors, holding a plastic cup in one hand. She’s turning into Florence Nightingale, Jamie thought. Will Pete be okay? Will Ilona make it? God, they could both die. We could all die.

The rover lurched forward, slewed slightly to the left, then straightened as Jamie eased off the accelerator and held the steering wheel firmly.

“We’re moving!” he yelped. “We’re on our way.”

Not a sound came from the three behind him.

Then Jamie thought, We’re heading in the wrong direction. The cliff village is the other way; we’re leaving it behind.

Despite his own pain and the terrible weariness that was sapping the strength from his body, Mikhail Vosnesensky grimly donned his hard suit. Abell and Mironov helped him, but neither of them looked any better than Vosnesensky felt.

It is the dust, the Russian told himself. It has to be. Outwardly he had dismissed the idea of some weird Martian infection as too preposterous even to consider. Yet deep in his heart he feared the possibility that they had all been poisoned by some alien bug for which there was no cure.