5

Departure

 

“I just wish all three of you wouldn’t go,” said Sebastian between bites of his turkey wrap with carroway cheese, courtesy of the Deseret cafeteria. “Is it really that safe to take Charlie all the way to Aram in a conestoga?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Dad, this has already been reviewed and discussed by professionals a hundred times. The conestogas are set up to accommodate kids. They have an extra tonne of water shielding against radiation in several key areas; enough to reduce even cosmic ray exposure. Within a week of arrival ours will be parked in a radiation-proof tunnel anyway and will often be attached to a second vehicle.”

“And Charlie knows what to do in case of depressurization,” added Helmut. “Sure, at age 19 months he can’t explain it and we can’t be sure he’ll act correctly, but someone will be with him at all times anyway.”

“He knows if the alarm goes off and the red lights start to flash, run to the green light and go inside,” clarified Clara. “The conestoga computer opens doors to evacuation areas automatically in an emergency, so he can run in, and it’ll close them afterward.”

“And he’s gotten used to wearing an earpiece.” Helmut pointed to Charlie’s right ear, which had a hearing aid-shaped device in it. It was able to transmit his heart rate and blood oxygenation and had a small built-in speaker, so the computer could give the boy instructions.

“You actually put him through a depressurization test?”

“We did, yestersol. It was perfectly safe; the agricultural biomes have enough oxygen pressure so that a person can survive at least ten or fifteen minutes before lapsing into unconsciousness. But the pressure drop was real and made the test realistic.”

Sebastian nodded; he had been through a depressurization drill just a week earlier. It was obligatory once every columbiad for everyone over age five. “And he ran into the shelter?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” That seemed to indicate he was willing to drop the matter.

“Dad, this is also my first command,” added Helmut.

“Yes, and I am very happy for you; congratulations again. I’m not sure Rivers will let you command, of course.”

“We’ll see. He and I had a conversation this morning. My authority extends over safety and training issues. He’ll decide where to build.”

“Fair enough.” Sebastian shook his head. “These Green Worlders are. . . green. I can’t believe they plan to go off into the wilderness lacking training.”

“That’s why they consented to stay here longer,” replied Sebastian. “They had wanted to head to Aram in early May. Here it is late June. The loss of their ACV was a delay, but they were also busy working in construction and agriculture and taking safety and exploration courses. Those caused the real delay. And in return for their extra month of work here, they get a construction support team for free to help them build their oasis.”

Sebastian turned to Clara. “But do you have to go, too?”

“Dad, I’m the one who agitated for the policy of including children! I could leave Charlie with you and go without him for six weeks!”

“No, that might be more than either Charlie or I could handle.”

“Dad, I’m a member of the exploration corps. I have to keep current in at least three skills in order to keep my active status rating. Construction and repair is one of my skills.”

“Look, you won’t be going to space together for a few years, so is it necessary to stay current in all four of your areas? You can always revive your status later.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, exasperated.

“Alright.”

“Dad, you should come out for a week or two,” added Helmut. “There are automated trucks running through Aram weekly, so it would be pretty easy. It’s an area I’m intrigued by; the crater’s outlet canyon is pretty dramatic, it has some spectacular views from the eastern rim, the eastern floor has a big evaporite deposit with hematite, carbonates, sulfates, even a few borates; the central plateau is a sedimentary layercake, relatively salt-free, with some nice delta deposits and a few remnants of wave-cut terraces; the western edge is chaotic terrain with some spectacular radial canyons. And don’t forget the rain and snow-cut gullies in the northern rim.”

“It’d be pretty interesting. I worry a bit more about the possibility of uranium ores in the center. Maybe I can get away. The ABC is really tying me up right now.”

“How’s the diplomacy?”

“Oh, yielding fruits; we’ve got just about every major national space agency on board and some tentative financial commitments. I think we’ll have thirty billion redbacks committed over the next decade, which will give the Asteroid Belt Commission quite an ambitious exploration plan.”

“How many caravels?” asked Helmut.

“That’s hard to say because it isn’t just about caravels. We’ll probably need three or four of them and they’ll go out on missions of up to four years. We’ll also be sending out about 100 automated orbiter/landers and setting up a network of ten to thirty automated oases. In that sense we’re following the Mars exploration model. We want every major asteroid and selected asteroids that are strategically placed around the belt to have fuel-making units, solar power, robotic rovers, emergency supplies, and fueled lifters. The lifters can fly rescue missions to stranded crews or can fly fuel to automated orbiter/landers so they can move on to another group of asteroid targets. We also have to work our way out; we’ll probably target the Jupiter Trojans for landings in a decade or so. The ABC may have a role in near-earth asteroids as well because everyone is planning missions to them anyway and someone has to coordinate the work.”

“And all this can be done without nuclear-electric propulsion?” asked Clara.

“Well, that’s the issue. The U.S. is holding out for a major commitment to nuclear electric; they want the customers. The Chinese want to develop gaseous-core nuclear engines and are trying to convince everyone they can handle the environmentalists. Most are skeptical and the U.S. is terrified the Chinese will try it, so they’re obstructing the efforts as much as possible. The Mars Commission advocates launching missions from Embarcadero where hydrogen, methane, and oxygen propellants are available for 300 redbacks per kilogram. So far the Canadians, Europeans, and Indians favor that approach as environmentally safe and cheap.”

“Do you think that’ll happen?”

“For the first missions, but maybe new propulsion systems will be available in a decade or so, and they should be used. Mars needs faster propulsion systems between here and Earth, Mercury needs faster propulsion as well, and advanced systems are essential for the outer solar system. The time to develop them has come. I told Will we need to push the development of gaseous core nuclear engines on Deimos, where Earth can’t be contaminated and where hydrogen is abundant. The Commission has been thinking of arguing the case for some time.”

“That’d be great,” said Helmut. “Something else to develop this world.”

“And a better direction than we’re going in right now.” Sebastian shook his head. “All these religious and ecological fanatics worry me. They’re hard working, but they don’t compromise easily and they can be unpleasant people to deal with. I’ve always thought it was premature to encourage private migration to Mars.”

“The Zen monks are very nice,” said Clara. “Of course, half of them don’t speak English!”

“It’s crazy! Why do we have Zen monks on Mars? The answer is, they have money, but what sort of answer is that, and what does that say about us!”

“The hope, I think, is that they will bring something to this place, though,” replied Helmut. “Not just something. . . spiritual. Their monastery will provide a retreat service, and since they’ll be up on top of the escarpment near the dacha they’ll have an incredible view. They’re also looking at specialized agriculture.”

“So we need Japanese tea and sake, and a place to meditate?” Sebastian shrugged doubtfully.

There was a moment of silence. “So, dad, will applications for the Ceres mission open next month?” asked Clara.

He looked at her. “Well, if there were any change in the schedule I couldn’t tell you, but there’s no change. Are both of you really planning to apply? I don’t know whether we’ll rate the caravels child safe.”

“Dad!” exclaimed Clara. “They were designed to be child safe!”

“Hey, no amount of practical shielding can protect the inhabitants from most cosmic ray exposure, and that’s a very serious health hazard for children. You’d be better off flying children to Mercury than to the asteroid belts because we can shield against the worst solar radiation and the sun’s magnetic field drastically reduces cosmic ray exposure. Children can take cosmic radiation for a year, but for four years?” He shook his head.

Clara, upset, looked at Helmut. He said “Dad, the water tanks and other mass does produce an area in the ship where cosmic ray exposure is greatly reduced; large enough for several children to sleep and play. And when the caravel is landed on an asteroid, the asteroid cuts the exposure in half. The doctors think a three to four-year mission is reasonably safe if the child is subsequently in a place with an excellent medical facility that can watch for cancer.”

“That’s one opinion, yes,” said Sebastian. “There are others who look at the same glass and say it’s half empty. And we don’t know what cellular damage will be done to a five year old that will cause cancer twenty or forty years later. It’s a very risky proposition.”

“Well, the three of us are applying,” said Helmut.

Sebastian shrugged. “It won’t be a decision for me to make; we’ll have an outside committee, probably on Earth, screen the applications.”

----------------------------------

Madhu Anderson had her eye on more than just the stockings and deodorant she came to Sylvio’s store to purchase. She looked at the space as well, the colors of the walls, the placing of items, the decorations and lighting. The store’s appearance needed an update.

She went to the checkout area near Silvio’s open office door. He was busy dictating an email about bank deposits to his computer; he nodded to her but did not come out to assist. She ran her items through the scanner, then Roger came along with his and he ran his through the scanner as well. He swiped his credit card and approved the purchase. Then they waited outside the door until Silvio finished.

“How are both of you?” he said as soon as he finished dictating the email. He stood up and came out to visit.

“Pretty well; how about you?” asked Madhu.

Silvio shrugged. “Not bad. The bank seems to have perpetual problems with converting currency; I have to work my way through to a solution every sol, it seems.”

“How’s the store?” she asked.

 “We’re managing alright.”

“We’re here buying things to support you,” said Roger.

Silvio smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Is business down?” asked Madhu.

Silvio hesitated. “Business always goes way up and down in the months right before and after the arrival of new residents. That makes it hard to say what the long-term situation is. But I can say that business was really, really good for the first month after Columbus 10 arrived; then Deseret opened and business dropped to thirty percent what it had been the week before. Now it’s beginning to look like business is stabilizing at seventy percent last year’s level.”

“So it’s down thirty percent after the outpost has doubled its population?”

Silvio nodded. “That seems to be the trend. Of course, Deseret probably will run out of goods, and I’ll still have mine, so people will have to come back and buy from me eventually. Unless I decided to close the store and sell everything to Deseret.”

Roger looked alarmed. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? Because your store and the cafeteria anchor the businesses in Yalta. If your store closes, people will go to Deseret to buy things and will eat their meals there as well. So the cafeteria would suffer. People would come here just to get their hair cut and a few other minor things.”

“What can I do? That’s what competition does.”

“But you can do something,” replied Madhu. She looked around at the store. “Refurbish this place, spruce it up so that it’s contemporary. That’ll help. Deseret has a tent; you have a real store!”

Silvio smiled. “Madhu dear, I have no sense of decoration! Look at this place. It looks like an old country store. That’s the best I can do.”

“I’ll help, Silvio. “I’m an independent artist; I don’t have a 55-hour per week job. Certainly I have ideas for the walls; I can paint them. But I think we can do some rearranging of the stock, get nicer shelving—they make better stuff now—add some attractive signs. . .you’ll have to pay for the materials, but I’ll donate my time.”

“You will! That’s very kind of you! I suppose I had better take up the offer, then.”

“Thank you, it would be an honor to do this job for you. You’ve been here for twelve years, after all. We’re friends. I don’t like the idea of a bunch of upstarts arriving and destroying our existing commercial infrastructure.”

“Well, I’m not sure we can stop that. Deseret has made arrangements to open a store in Dawes and I hear Smith is now in Cassini negotiating space there. They’re creating a chain! They already have agreements with the Green World Community for vegetables and GWC isn’t even producing them yet.”

“You need to buy more home-made items to increase your inventory,” said Roger. “More and more folks are producing things at home for sale. The Nigerians seem very good at it. Madhu and I have been interacting with them quite a lot; we’ve attended several of their church services.”

“You have?” Silvio looked alarmed. “They seem like Bible fanatics to me!”

“Silvio, we might seem like that as well, if we were to tell you what we believed,” said Madhu gently.

“No, you and Roger are discrete! They wear their Bibles on their sleeves!”

“We’re working on that, Silvio. They are Bible-believing Christians. So are we. Madhu and I are fairly comfortable at their services; their theology is similar. They tend to be anti-evolution and anti-science, which is ironic considering they’re here! We’re meeting with Reverend Nah next week to discuss some of his views, which are more or less synonymous with the views of the church. If people associate with them, befriend them, are patient with their biblical pitches, I think everyone can get beyond the differences.”

“You are more optimistic than many people.”

“Yes, but that’s because we’re working on them,” replied Madhu. “We can see what progress dialogue can produce. I’m hoping we can get them involved in the interfaith programs; they have remained aloof so far and refuse to pray with non-Christians. I think that will change. But let’s get back to the store. You need staff here, Silvio. We were all used to a store with no service; we come in, find what we want, ask the computer for help, find the item, scan it, slide our credit card, and walk out. Go to Deseret and watch the reaction of the residents when someone greets them after they enter, offers to help, walks them to the right shelf, and helps them purchase the item. Service is one reason people are going there.”

“I tried to hire someone last week. I visited Deseret and saw the impact of service. So I approached Reverend Nah, because I heard a few of his people were still looking for work. He told me that there was one man looking for work, but his wife was working for the Zen monastery on construction and they can’t provide any health insurance. Well, neither can I.”

“That is a problem.” Madhu thought about it.

“Well, you can always employ Sam,” said Roger. “He’s fourteen and a half; a bit young, but he is very capable, and he’s jealous that Marshall’s got a job.”

“We didn’t come in here to get him a job,” added Madhu.

“Oh, I’m sure of that. Don’t worry. I could use the help, that’s for sure. Okay, bring him in and I’ll interview him.”

“We’ll do that,” said Madhu. “I’ll bring you some designs in a few sols, how’s that?”

“Excellent. And I can afford to spend a reasonable amount of money to redesign this place.”

“Good. Good sol, Silvio.”

“Ciao,” replied Silvio.

Madhu and Roger walked out of the store with their items. “I’m glad he agreed to let me do some decorating. The place can be ten times nicer than Deseret’s tent.”

“More than decorating. He agreed to a redesign.”

“That’s true.” Madhu stopped and looked at the patio and the kitchen beyond. “This place needs a face-lift, too.”

“One job at a time, my dear.”

“You’re right.” They continued across Yalta Biome and headed into Shikuku, where they lived. “But the health insurance issue is another big one.”

“We need to talk to Reverend Nah about it.”

“We need to talk to the Mars Council about it! We need universal health insurance. Health care here is heavily oriented around prevention. We can’t wait until people get sick.”

“Well, you’re on the Council, so that’s easy. You might want to talk to Will as well.”

“Yes, I’ll do that too, after talking to Eve Gilmartin and finding out Mariner Hospital’s view,” she agreed.

------------------------------

There was so much dust on the Zen monastery’s new dome, it was twilight underneath. “Those regolith movers kick up a lot of dust,” Will observed, looking up as he emerged from the entrance tunnel.

“Yes, but they’re quite effective,” replied Yoshi Suzuki over the spacesuit radio. “In two sols we’ve placed half the regolith on the dome skirt that it needs.”

Will nodded silently. He looked around the hundred-twenty-meter crater the monks had covered over with a B-160 dome. It was a typical bowl-shaped depression thirty meters deep, but had the distinction of possessing a rugged set of cliffs about ten meters high all the way around where the meteor impact had punched through a dark, hard, basalt flow. “This has a lot of potential. Are you planning to plant it?”

“Yes,” replied Yoshi. “We’ll grow tea on the slopes and flowers on the crater floor. Beyond the rim we’ll have a strip averaging twenty meters wide for agriculture; it’ll be invisible from down here, though. We are planning Zen rock gardens outside the dome, but they’ll go on top of the ten meters of fill we’re placing over the plastic skirt.”

“It’ll be interesting to see how this open ‘polder’ concept works,” said Will, referring to the plan to leave the Martian ground open to the dome and to reclaim it, just like reclaiming Dutch polders from the sea. “I think it can be predicted you’ll lose tonnes and tonnes of gas downward into the ground.”

“Probably for the first few months. As the interior warms from the greenhouse effect, we’ll gradually introduce water vapor and let the compressed carbon dioxide atmosphere carry it into the pores in the regolith. Since the reg is incredibly cold, the pore spaces should freeze up over a three-month period. Only then will we start to increase atmospheric pressure in here and add oxygen. Aurorae’s agriculture produces a tonne of surplus oxygen a sol and you’re throwing most of it away right now.”

“That’s true. The Green World Community plans to do the same thing and they’re a thousand kilometers away; I don’t know what they’ll do to maintain their oxygen supply.”

“That will be interesting to see, I agree. If nothing else, they can buy beamed power from you and dissociate water, convert the hydrogen to methane, and sell it to you.”

“I suspect that’s what they’ll do. You’ll have to haul a lot of water up here, too.”

“Of course; over three thousand tonnes in the next year, or ten tonnes per sol. But you have plenty of spare water; you’ve been accumulating it because of the deuterium extraction equipment. We want to start planting as soon as it’s above freezing in here at night for at least two weeks and the pressure is 0.07 atmospheres. The computer calculations indicate that’ll be reached two months from now. Then we’ll put a little pond at the bottom of the crater. In two weeks we’ll have the regolith skirt covered over and we’ll peel off the plastic protective sheet over the dome. At that point it should be sunny in here, and there will be enough pressure so that we can wear partial pressure suits instead of these full pressure suits we have to wear now.”

Will nodded. “Now, I particularly wanted to see the tunnel you’ve started at the bottom.”

“Sure, come on down.” Yoshi started down a spiral ramp leading to the crater floor; Will followed behind. The ramp followed a natural break in the cliff; when they reached the bottom they moved out of the way to let a small buggy pulling a trailer full of broken blocks of dune sandstone to pass. Then they walked to the tunnel, which was being excavated southeastward in the dune sandstone stratum lying about five meters below the basalt layer.

Will paused at the tunnel entrance to feel the rock. He squeezed an exposed surface with his gloved hand; the rock crumbled very slightly under his pressure. He took his rock hammer from his belt and broke off a piece, which proved fairly easy.

“Rather lightly lithified.”

“Yes, but more so overhead because of thermal metamorphism from the lava flow. This is an almost perfect medium for excavation; it’s hard, it keeps a shape, it doesn’t crumble, but it isn’t so hard that it exhausts workers and breaks equipment.”

“I understand that’s one reason you chose this spot. But I’d worry that the sandstone is too soft. We can’t afford cave-ins.”

“Neither can we! Tests have shown that caves excavated in this material will stand up. As I said, the rock is harder overhead because the lava cooked it. The basalt layer provides a natural air-tight trap, too; once we excavate the rock we should be able to spray it with a plastic coating, to minimize air leakage. We plan to duplicate in basic layout a twelfth century Zen cave monastery.”

“You’ll have better radiation protection than anyone else.”

“For sure. We also plan to extend this tunnel all the way to the escarpment, so that we can place a meditation area on a ledge there.”

“The escarpment! That’s five hundred meters away!”

“Correct; five hundred twenty, to be exact. We just started excavating the tunnel and we’re already managing five meters a sol. Most likely, with more experience we’ll do six or seven, so we’ll reach the escarpment edge in about three months. The jack hammers are doing an excellent job cutting through this sandstone; we can literally cut it into blocks and remove them. Many of them would make good building stone, too. The basalt layer anchors the base of an overhang and the dune sandstone has eroded back to some extent, so we’ll reach the escarpment at a natural ledge where there are partial caves. It should be a good spot.”

“How many pressure doors will you install?”

“That’s a controversial subject. We want to install three, but Alexandra Lescov, who’s in charge of safety, wants at least five. If the tunnel depressurizes suddenly, this soft sandstone could spall off or even explode inward if it’s full of gas or water under pressure. So we’re planning to coat the walls with plastic very thoroughly, monitor leaks carefully, and monitor the gas pressure inside the rock. We hope that will be sufficient.”

Will pondered the problem, about which he was familiar. “We may add a six-hundred meter tunnel to the Dacha, eventually,” added Yoshi. “That will give both places an emergency evacuation route.”

“That would be a wise precaution. I had no idea you monks were such tunnelers!”

Yoshi smiled. “We have many talents, you could say. Our monastery will be a haven of peace. It will be a place where people can come to reflect about their lives, their intentionality, how and why they do everything. Even tunneling can be done in a Zen way; it is an opportunity for seeing reality as it is and responding to reality according to your true nature. Even our Christian workers are beginning to understand that.” He indicated two Nigerian Christians who were toiling with two monks in the tunnel.

Will was surprised and had to smile. “Something they are not likely to learn in Nigeria, I think. I very much appreciate your vision, Yoshi; I think your monastery will bring something we all badly need here. We are working so hard all the time, so frenetically busy, that we lack peace in our lives.”

“And peace lies within you; it is not hard to find!” Yoshi laughed a bit.

Will walked ten meters down the tunnel, as close to the workers as it seemed practical. The tunnel had widened from two meters to about four. “Why is it getting wider and deeper?”

“There’s going to be a chamber here about ten meters in diameter and five meters high, with a concrete-cased steel support pillar in the middle. It’ll be our dining area, and there will be hallways off of it leading to bedrooms, a library, kitchen, etc.”

“Very nice. You all could build an entire city down here!”

“And it’ll be much cheaper than your buildings!” added Yoshi. “Seriously, this is the advantage of open-ground construction. Your system imposes an airtight plastic membrane between your biomes and the Martian ground, a membrane that can’t be ruptured. That means you can’t build down, and the dome allows only so much building upward. But now that Mars has almost unlimited supplies of water and oxygen, leakages can be tolerated much better. That makes the polder concept practical.”

“Probably. We’ll see,” replied Will.

“Dr. Elliott, let us have some tea,” said Yoshi, with a smile. “I can offer you better hospitality in the shelter than out here in pressure suits.”

“Thank you, I would be honored.” Will followed Yoshi out of the tunnel, up the crater rim, out through the dome’s underground entrance, and into one of the monks’ two shelters. After a pleasant half hour of discussion over green tea, Will headed back to the outpost. He set the ranger on autopilot so it would drive down the Little Colorado Canyon Road at a standard speed while he checked his messages. He found that Madhu had called him, so he called her back on the videophone built into the dashboard.

“Will, I want to propose reforms to our health care system to the Mars Council,” she began. “Silvio can’t easily hire help because he’d have to pay health premiums, and he needs staff if he’ll ever complete with Deseret.”

“That’s a problem with our current system,” agreed Will. “No one really knows how much to charge for health care here because the vast majority of our immense costs are research-related. We’re spending 700 million redbacks per year on medical research and health care. We’ve got ten physicians and ten more medical support personnel on Mars, two hundred million redbacks in medical equipment, we import thirty million redbacks of supplies and equipment every two years, and about 700 professionals on Earth are doing support research or consulting. Everyone gets a full body scan or sonoscan twice a year and if anything is found, it’s scanned every month or two. We perform almost 150 biopsies per year of anomalies. The data is so thorough it’s impossible to find a comparable population on Earth. We’re getting all sorts of grants to study precancerous conditions; we’re setting some of the standards for how to manage the care of them. Different cost accounting models have offered wildly different estimates of the costs of routine treatment versus medical research, and no one has agreed on which to use. Furthermore, when the mining companies first arrived here nine years ago they agreed to pay their share of the entire medical bill because it was cheaper than flying in new people.”

“But that’s over a million redbacks per year per person.”

“That’s right. The Deseret-Mars Company is picking up the bill for the Mormons. So are the wealthy sponsors of the other groups. I agree it’s an absurd figure, too; even with the increased costs of health care in the United States, it’s much higher. That’s why every family here tries to have one member employed by the Commission, to make the Commission pay the entire medical bill.”

“Then it’s creating economic distortions. The Deseret Store isn’t covering its real costs because its medical care is subsidized by someone on Earth, but Silvio’s costs aren’t, placing him at a severe competitive disadvantage. Will, I want to propose to the Mars Council that we set up a universal health care system for everyone here, that we arrive on a formula to allocate expenses fairly, and we inaugurate a combination of taxes and fees to cover them. This gives the Council a major responsibility, too.”

“Its first major task. That would be good; a few are complaining their elected proto-national body does almost nothing. I think this is a good time to turn over health care to the Council. But I’m not sure others will agree with the switch. The mining companies and the Commission could benefit; their expenses will go down. But that means Deseret’s will go up, and they will oppose.”

“Well, that’s the purpose of a political process, right? The Council meets in a few weeks.”

“Right before reelection? It might be good to postpone the discussion until after the election.”

“Or make it a part of the ‘future of Mars’ discussions we have before every election. That’ll give us an issue to discuss, one that involves imposing taxes to get a benefit.”

“That should be interesting,” replied Will, doubtfully.

---------------------------

Eighteen members of the Green World Community and sixteen Commission personnel, in three mobilhabs and six conestogas, accompanied by a portable nuclear reactor and two robotic trucks, drove to Aram Crater in thirty-one hours. The Meridiani Trail started from Aurorae Outpost by traveling north-northeastward along the northern edge of Aurorae Chaos until it narrowed and entered Hydraotes Chaos. As the sun set they turned more easterly and skirted the head of Tiu Vallis, then traveled southeasterly for several hundred kilometers through Hydapsis Chaos, twisting and turning to follow spectacular valleys and canyons, over landslide deposits and past scores of old lakebeds. Just before the sun rose the caravan of vehicles headed up a branch canyon and climbed a ramp onto the old ejecta blanket of Aram Chaos; a bouldery, rolling terrain, but quite unlike the canyons they had been threading through. Two hours later the trail began to pass cliffs dropping down into deep canyons; finally the trail itself wound down a landslide scar, crossed a canyon, and went up the other side.

“Welcome to Aram,” Helmut said to Victor MacLeod, who was riding with him in the lead vehicle.

“This is Aram? Where’s the crater?”

“You’re now in it; sort of. The rim is almost completely eroded away on the west side and the floor is filled with some hundreds of meters of sedimentary deposits, which then dewatered, cracked, the cracks became drainage channels and were eroded wider, then landslides and eolian activity modified them. The route across this drainage channel was the toughest challenge when we built the Meridiani Trail; it took four weeks to complete a crude crossing, and two months more of follow-up work later to improve it.”

“How much longer?”

Helmut considered. “Another hundred kilometers across the western chaos, then onto the central plateau, which is about 150 kilometers long and 40 wide. We have to go to the far eastern end. So we have maybe seven or eight hours more.”

Victor nodded, satisfied. The next few hours were slow ones as the vehicles twisted and turned around obstacles. Finally they crossed a low area of chaos, then rode up a long ramp onto the central plateau, which was relatively flat and smooth. “Good agricultural land,” Victor said.

Helmut had his doubts anyone could determine that by eye on Mars, but didn’t comment. “Yes, this is your area. It’s all fine-grained sediments laid down in a slightly brackish lake. The reg isn’t too salty, and it’s rich in clays and fine-grained sands which make reasonably good farmland. And you don’t have to go far to see of the best geology on Mars, either.”

“Outside Marineris?” asked Victor.

“No, in general. The geology isn’t spectacular in terms of views, though it can be pretty rugged and interesting. Instead, you see here in Aram most of the major forces that shaped the planet’s geology: cratering, ground water, precipitation, and the wind. This crater filled up with sediment, then the deposits disintegrated when the water drained and much of the sediment eroded away to leave chaos, except for the central plateau. The eastern end even lost most of the chaos and was filled with evaporites. There are quite a few classic, textbook field stops in Aram; we did a virtual field trip of the area for a hundred or so geologists on Earth about seven years ago. This is the area of Mars I know best, except for the northern polar layered terrains of course.”

“Your dissertation topic.”

“Exactly, if I can ever finish it!”

They went back to looking at the land roll by, but it was now flattish and boring, except for an occasional canyon they skirted. About 2 p.m. they stopped for an hour at Aram Oasis, a facility consisting of an emergency shelter, a 150-kilowatt solar power unit, six windmills, a water well, an electrolyzer to convert water into hydrogen and oxygen, a cryogenic refrigerator, fuel cells, a Sabatier unit to convert hydrogen and atmospheric carbon dioxide into methane, and tanks to store water, oxygen, and methane in liquid form.

After draining the fuel and oxygen supply completely, the caravan resumed its southeastward roll. Immediately the trail widened greatly and was smoothed to a high degree, so that sunwing aircraft could land on it.

In two more hours they reached the edge of the central plateau, where the trail descended the cliff face and crossed old salt flats. Beyond the flats the trail headed due east toward Aram canyon, a deep gash that formed when Aram Lake suddenly drained into Ares Vallis, creating a catastrophic flood. Forest Rivers, however, ordered that the caravan leave the trail and turn southward just before they reached the edge of the plateau. They pushed across barren, fairly flat, mostly rock-free terrain two kilometers to a spot where a peninsula of sedimentary deposit extended into the lower salt flats. An old crater 120 meters across and twenty-two meters deep wounded the middle of the little peninsula. The salt flats below were punctured by a larger 500-meter crater that was nearly one hundred meters deep.

“This is the spot,” exclaimed Forest over the common channel. “The omphalos of Mars. Let’s all get out for the dedication ceremony.”

“‘Omphalos’?” Helmut said.

“Navel; belly button,” replied Victor.

“I didn’t know Mars had a belly button.”

“He’s speaking symbolically,” replied Victor, a bit irritated. “The ‘center’ of Mars.”

Helmut decided not to dispute that claim, either. He helped Victor pull on his suit. Clara watched them and held Charlie; she planned to observe the ceremony through the mobilhab’s big front windows.

The mobilhab’s other five inmates also headed out with Helmut and Victor at about the same time. Forest Rivers was already out and was walked along the rim of the crater. The crowd gathered up there on a flattish spot where they had a good view inside. The crater had crumbling cliffs of sandstone and shale in a few spots, but otherwise was half-filled with wind-blown dust of great age; it had consolidated slightly into a very soft rock and was undergoing slow erosion.

“Could I have everyone’s attention!” exclaimed Rivers, snapping Helmut back to the present. “This sol marks a major event in Martian history; indeed, in the history of the human race. This sol the ideal society is born on Mars. This sol the commingling of Mother Earth and Father Mars begins. This sol the first work to transform the omphalos of Mars—Aram—begins with the transformation of Genesis Crater, the omphalos of Aram. This sol we dedicate Genesis Crater to terraformation. This sol we dedicate ourselves to building a new borough on Mars, a new kind of human community, and to making a new start for humanity. From this place, where a circular dome will cover Genesis, line after line of biomes will reach to the north, south, and west, eventually covering this entire plateau with the green gift of Mother Earth. The greenery will then flow outward, under domed canyons and in domed craters, to cover much of this world.

“That is the promise and potential of the dedication we are about to make. Let us gather and water this world. All are welcome, whether a member of our community or not. Please come!”

He beckoned all to approach him and specifically beckoned to Helmut. Hesitating, Helmut stepped forward and joined the line.

Forest opened a large container, revealing a dozen liters of ice water. Helmut was startled to see the water, but then remembered that they were considerably below the Datum and therefore in an area where liquid water could exist, though it was cold enough outside to freeze it solid pretty quickly.

Suited figures moved forward in line, taking cups of water that Forest filled for them with a ladle. Some poured it on the ground, watching it bubble on the warm regolith, then freeze. Others tossed it high into the air and watched the semi-frozen sleet fall to the ground. Most said something in dedication.

Helmut had found the speech silly, but the water dedication was different; it moved him. He filed forward and took a cup of water from Forest, who handed it to him with a smile. Helmut walked a few paces toward the crater rim’s edge and poured it into Genesis. “To the greening of Mars,” he said.

 

© 2005 Robert H. Stockman

 

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