1
The Director
Douglas Morgan. The news that the former astronaut turned Senator had been appointed the first Director of the Mars Commission—effective immediately—certainly was encouraging. He was well known, experienced in politics—ever important for an international effort requiring diplomacy and lots of money—and knew the various space agencies well. He was also brilliant, sometimes to the point of arrogance.
Commander William Elliott contemplated the various comments about Morgan as he walked across Aurorae Outpost to his meeting with Ethel MacGregor, his wife, who was in charge of construction. Greenhouse 9 was angled such that it provided a fairly good view of the ground-level construction, so Will could stay inside and talk to his wife by telephone, seeing her expressions and the places toward which she was pointing through the thick but transparent Kevlar plastic. It saved about half an hour, compared to putting on a space suit, going out, then later coming back in and peeling the darn thing off.
His arrival in greenhouse 9 momentarily pushed Morgan from his mind. He turned right to glance at the high cliffs of Aurorae’s northern escarpment a dozen kilometers distant; they were one of the most spectacular aspects of building the center of Mars exploration where they had, and were a presence rather like the Front Range from downtown Denver. Then he turned to the left—south—to catch a glimpse at Face Rock, a natural sandstone formation about thirty meters high that stood guard over the Outpost. From exactly the right angle, the silhouette of the rock against the pinkish sky looked like the profile of a face. The escarpment and Face Rock: Will had looked on both almost every sol for the last six years.
He grabbed his attaché—an advanced combination of personal computer and videophone, packed into an object the size of a clipboard—which dangled from his belt. He pushed the telephone icon, then Ethel’s number. “Hi, hon. I’m over in greenhouse 9, now.”
“I’ll be right there.” A spacesuited figure that was welding together the metal skin of the basement level’s ceiling turned off the flame, rose, and walked toward the greenhouse. Will was pleased to see that the basement walls now had fill against their exteriors; that task had been finished that morning. It had taken them almost five months to get the lower level enclosed; longer than expected. Two other figures were welding together reinforcing metal bars for the future walls of the first floor. Eventually heavy plastic sheets would be woven among the bars, they would be encased in airtight metal forms, heating tubes would be installed, and duricrete—a mixture of windblown Martian dust, sand, ground up caliche, and water—would be poured in to make meter-thick airtight walls. All the work had to be done in spacesuits.
Ethel began talking when she was still fifty meters away. “There’s not much to report. I talked to Pavel a little while ago—Columbus 3’s now almost five minutes away, so it took a while—and he resolved a problem we had with the welding. We’ll have the metal ceiling sheets installed by tomorrow.”
“Really? We’ll be ready to pour the ceiling?”
“Yes. This morning Neal got the last load of sand we need, so we now have everything. We can lay the polyethylene sheeting starting tomorrow. The problem we’re having is with the welding around the vehicle airlock. Lal’s doing his best, but he’s no expert.”
“I know. We should give him a different job. Have you trained him in running the plastics equipment?”
“Yes. He probably would be better inside, but we need people able to work in both places, so he needs something to do outside. I’d rather get him trained to weld better.”
Will thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes, let’s see whether we can get him up to speed. He’s a glaciologist, not an engineer. But he’s committed to this place and wants to help, so let’s help him improve his skills.” Will pointed to the walls. “When will we pour the first floor walls?”
“Two months.”
“It’s going to be a real race to get the building finished by mid June.”
“We’re going to be late. But we have plenty of room to house everyone temporarily for a month or two while the building is finished. Any idea what we’ll call it?”
“No. Let’s not have anyone die, so that we have to name it for them! I’ll be outside after lunch to help with the welding, and we can do a walk-around then.”
“Okay, see you at lunch.”
He blew her a kiss—which she returned—then turned and headed back to his office in Habitat 1. He walked a bit slowly through the greenhouse to enjoy the verdure; they could never get enough of the plant life. That was one thing about Mars that was difficult on him—the landscape, in spite of its often-varied colors and sometimes stunning vistas, was stark and barren. That was one of three things he particularly missed, the other two being moonlight and swimming pools.
As he approached his office, he passed the nursery, and his son Marshall, now two years old, saw him. “Daddy!” he exclaimed and ran over. Madhu Gupta-Anderson, who was watching Marshall and her own son, one-year-old Sam—who was just beginning to walk—pursued the boy.
“Hi, Marshall.” Will stopped to give his son a hug. “Are you having fun?”
“Auntie Madhu read us a story about the bear twins!” It was a story he asked for often and really loved.
“I love that story, too. I’ve got to go to go back to work, but I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Okay, daddy.” Marshall was disappointed. Will hugged him again, added a kiss, and headed for his office. He closed the door so that his voice wouldn’t distract Marshall and prompt a visit.
He removed his attaché from his belt, unfolded the thin keyboard, and set it on his desk. He had a videomail message, and much to his surprise, it was from Douglas Morgan. When the message began there was a three second still image of Dr. Morgan: very neatly dressed, every hair in place, looking very organized and professional. Contact information was displayed on the bottom of the image and was already up to date for the new job. Will did not know Morgan, but could see he was dealing with a detail-oriented and confident administrator, one hitting the ground running.
“Good sol, Dr. Elliott,” Morgan began, using the greeting common on Mars, where the 24.6 hour day was called a “sol.” “I wanted to send you a greeting right away, soon after the announcement that I have been appointed the Director of the new Mars Commission. Our relationship, clearly, is one of the most important ones to develop in this new organization, because the lengthy time delays in communication, coupled with the lengthy duration of the flight to Mars and the rarity of the opportunities for transportation between the planets, give the Mars surface operation an autonomy that one would not expect of the lunar operations, or those in low earth orbit.
“I think we met once back in 2016 very briefly. It was my last year in the Astronaut Corps just before I ran for the Senate. I had just returned from the moon and you were about to head up for the first time. Other than that brief encounter, I regret that we never have been able to sit together and talk. Perhaps over the next two months, when Earth and Mars are very close and the time delay is the least, we can establish an open line and chat informally a bit. I gather that your management style is rather like mine; it is based on personal relationships whenever possible.
“Perhaps I should say something about my philosophy. In some ways, it has been shaped by what I think is your philosophy, which has been a shock to many people, but I think is gradually carrying the day: make Mars a place for successful science, exploration that captures the imagination and attention of the public, a comfortable place to settle and raise a family, a source of natural resources for export—gold, fossiliferous rock, argon, nitrogen, and methane from Phobos and Deimos—and a place where the public can purchase a stake of the enterprise through buying a piece of land. These five prongs should produce a Mars project that has long-term financial viability, if they are balanced right. The first guarantees the project’s scientific relevance and support from the scientific community. The second captures the imagination of the public, which is the ultimate source of government funding. The third produces a stable long-term workforce on the planet, which otherwise would have frequent staff turnover and consequent low staffing levels. The fourth draws support from commercial interests and begins the construction of an economic base for Mars settlement, which will not be financially self-sufficient for a century, if ever. It also bolsters support from the public by giving it something to purchase, as does the fifth prong, the sale of land. By providing the public with things it can actually do to contribute to the Mars project, we reinforce its interest and solidify its support.
“The trick is balancing these five. Too much commercialization can lead to the chimera of financial self-sufficiency and undercut the financial commitment of governments. Too much popularization can undercut the support of the scientific community. Too much of an effort to make Mars a comfortable place to raise a family can undercut its image as a place of exploration and raise the issue of wasteful use of resources. Our task will be to manage all five at once, which means the message that goes out to and through the media must be carefully tailored.
“Perhaps that’s the main thing my office can do, because as you know, the Mars Commission really doesn’t do very much. It’s really an international committee providing oversight to an ongoing operation. The ground support personnel remain under the employment of their various space agencies and contractors: life support and ecology for Mars, the moon, and other space facilities is located in Seville, space medicine is mostly in Moscow, the interplanetary transit vehicles are monitored and supported from Berlin, Mars shuttles in San Diego, lunar and Mars habitats in Milan, rangers and conestogas in Detroit, surface science in Houston, Moscow, Berlin and Tokyo, etc. The Mars Commission itself is on the grounds of the Johnson Spaceflight Center and like the Lunar Commission, with which we share a building, our employees are NASA employees. We’re not even allowed to fly the United Nations flag outside, or anything other than the American flag. I have secured permission to hire a multinational support staff and plan to implement that fairly aggressively. The Mars effort remains very much an American project, and that is to be expected as long as we pay more than half the bill. I also hope to increase the financial share of the other agencies, both to increase overall our budget and bring about more balance. Otherwise, we risk alienating international public support. The more nations sending couples to Mars to settle, explore, represent their cultures, and do science, the better.
“Anyway, those are a few thoughts for you. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience. Bye.”
The picture of Morgan slowly faded. Will stared at the screen, impressed. Morgan had indeed grasped his own philosophy, and had probably summarized it more succinctly than he ever had. The idea of recruiting professional couples from as many nations as possible and getting their governments to send them—at a mere four hundred million dollars per couple—was intriguing and encouraging. Why send individuals to spend twenty-six months away from their spouses and children—risking collapse of their families—then replace them, when one can send couples to stay fifteen to twenty years, raising their children on Mars, becoming experienced experts in the skills needed on the Red Planet, and accumulating a much larger personnel base? It made eminent sense once one overcame the taboos against sex in space, children in space, and families in space; not to mention space as a place for pure science, space as a place for pure exploration, space as a place free from the grubby financial aspects of terrestrial capitalism, space as a place to build a utopian community, etc.
Will wracked his brain for a memory of his encounter with Morgan. He vaguely remembered meeting the man, as Morgan had noted. It was a brief encounter; they had not actually talked. Will remembered a vague feeling of unease, but nothing more. It reminded him that he was isolated and usually over a hundred million kilometers from Earth, and thus not in the position to be frank and completely natural with someone, or at least not without starting slow and seeking outside opinions. With that in mind, he hit reply and started to write out his words.
“Dr. Morgan, congratulations on your appointment to the position of Director of the Mars Commission. I am delighted. Thank you so much for calling me right away; I’m flattered that you thought of me so quickly after your appointment. I will look forward to getting to know you much better. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day we can clear some time on our calendars so that we can talk more spontaneously.
“I’m very impressed by how well you have summarized the philosophy we have been groping toward over the last four years. I suppose it is possible only because Mars exploration was delayed so many decades and the technology became reasonably mature. As you know, we have been preparing for the arrival of Columbus 4 and the automated cargo vehicles by stockpiling fossiliferous rock and other items for export to Earth. The propellant making facilities on Phobos and Deimos are both back on line, thanks to a visit by the Columbus 3 crew, and will be in the position to provide methane for export as well. What I would like to see us begin to do, in the next few months, is lay the groundwork for the sale of Martian real estate to the public. The latest marketing research by the Mars Exploration Society indicates that a sales price of $5,000 per square kilometer—that’s $50 per hectare and about $20 per acre—is a reasonable price. We’ll double that for land near the Outpost where services can be provided. The study also recommends sale of ten-hectare units to the general public, with specials to sell it in square kilometer units to investors and thousand-square-kilometer blocks to larger corporations, all at lower prices. If you haven’t seen the report, you might want to ask a secretary to download and print it for you. I would like to see us move in that direction in the next six months or so. The report, by the way, estimates that the Commission could raise $100 million dollars this way; not a huge boost, but useful nevertheless.
“My other suggestion regards safety. It’s high time for another safety review for the entire Mars operation. I’d like to see us appoint an outside panel to review safety every two years or so; it’s extremely important. We still have no idea why Paul Renfrew lost control of his ranger; a freak accident caused by a momentary lapse in attention is most likely, but is not a satisfactory explanation either. There are a dozen major vulnerabilities in our operation, and the new buildings and greenhouses represent a huge unknown, since they were made of local materials. I’d like to see the Columbus 4 arrivals serve as an inspection team before they learn too much about our procedures; we need their unbiased input.
“Those are my main suggestions. Assuming you serve as Director for ten years, you will probably guide this place to grow from fifteen adults and two children to about seventy-five adults and fifteen children. Think of the science we will be able to do with that much resources! But getting there won’t be easy and will be expensive, as you know. I can pledge our effort up here to make that kind of expansion as practical and inevitable as is possible. Bye.”
He reread his comments, edited them, then put on the jacket of his uniform so that he’d look the part. He displayed his script on the screen so that it would serve as a teleprompter and recited his written notes naturally. It guaranteed that he, too, would look organized and professional. He sent the result. Then he took off the jacket and recorded a quick video message to Heather Kimball, President of the Mars Exploration Society.
“Heather, good sol to you. I just received a very positive, upbeat, and friendly message from Dr. Douglas Morgan, the new head of the Mars Commission. I don’t know how to ask this, but here goes: can you call some friends and get a frank assessment of Morgan’s personality and dealings with people for me? I just don’t know whether to let down my hair with him or not. You know how it is; I don’t know half the people I have to deal with, now, and thus I can’t determine whether being frank with them is productive and fosters a strong relationship, or whether it allows them to take advantage of me and undermine my positions. It’s a very awkward situation to be in, not knowing whom one can trust; I’m sure you can appreciate my dilemma. Let me know whether you can help. Bye.”