4

Arrival

 

The Mars shuttle Hadriaca descended rapidly to a landing on pad 6, spouting a hundred meters of orange-tinged blue flame. As it approached the ground the flame shortened and weakened, but it kicked up a cloud of dust and snowflakes anyway. Then shuttle settled onto the ground softly; a safe and smooth landing.

Before the dust and ice fog cleared, two Conestogas and a ranger hurried over to the vehicle, circled it, and inspected it. Cameras carried the image to the Outpost’s bridge, where Érico scrutinized them closely. Meanwhile, inside, the six crewmembers were powering down the vehicle and suiting up. Once Érico gave them a clearance, they came out, two by two.

This land is your land, this land is my land,

From Tharsis Montes to the Hellas Basin,

From the cratered highlands to the Mariner valleys,

This land was made for you and me.

Who’s singing?” said Érico to Will, surprised.

“Ah. . . it sounds like Boris Ivanov,” Will replied. He glanced at the passenger manifest. “Yes, it’d be him.”

Boris began to sing the song again and a second voice joined in; that of Tatiana Ivanov, his wife. Then Taehun Kim joined as well as he stepped out of the airlock with Kimberly Irion. She began to sing also.

“What is she carrying?” asked Érico. Then he answered his own question. “Isn’t that a so-called ‘Mars flag?’”

“I think so; the Mars Exploration Society uses it,” replied Will. “This is going to be an interesting bunch!”

“They’re pretty zealous!”

“It’s my fault,” replied Will. “I’ve been insisting for years that we had to recruit younger people who would be more willing to stay here long term, people who work their way up through the Mars commission in its support staff or who have spent time on the moon. The median age of Columbus 5’s personnel is 28; the youngest yet. And most of them have spent at least three years working for the Commission or in one of the support teams before beginning their training. That means they were in college when Columbus 1 arrived here and they’ve directed their careers based on coming to the Outpost.”

“I had no idea,” said Érico. “This is going to be an interesting change!”

“I hope it’s just ‘interesting,’” replied Will, with a smile. He saw that a few of them were beginning to step into a Conestoga. “I guess I’d better head over to the garage to greet them.”

But Will lingered a few minutes longer in the bridge because the crew began to load the Conestogas and the ranger with luggage and high-priority cargo. Pete Theodoulos, who had piloted the shuttle, soon came out as well, with the copilot, Zachary Hersey. When the three vehicles were loaded up and began to head to the garage, Will sent an email notifying the “buddies” of the six to head there and walked there himself.

All the way he contemplated the people he would be meeting. Pete Theodoulos, a Canadian of Greek background, was in his early thirties and had been a Canadian Air Force pilot; he had also acquired a Ph.D. in volcanology and had spent parts of the last five years on the moon. Zachary Hersey was one of the four Americans on board and was the informal head of the Americans; he was a Prospector specialist. Taehun Kim, the first Korean to fly to Mars, was a metallurgist and their new waste management technician; they now created so much waste of all sorts that they needed an expert to handle it. Kimberly Irion, another American, was an eobiochemist—she was still teaching the subject at Stanford, even during the flight to Mars—and a well-published expert who had led the effort to reconstruct the chemical pathway that permitted Martian photosynthesis. Finally, there was Boris and Tatiana Ivanov, the two Russians on Columbus 5; he was a sociologist who had retrained to serve as a geology laboratory technician—work still needed more than sociology—and she was an architect, interior designer, and an accomplished artist and poet as well.

They were a remarkable group of people. And the six of them were only a third of the Columbus 5 crew; the Apollonaris would land with six more a bit before noon and the Elysium would follow with the last six in mid-afternoon. The celebratory dinner was already being prepared.

The first Conestoga entered the airlock, then a minute later the inner door opened and it drove into the garage. Will watched through a big window separating the garage from the tunnel connecting Joseph Hall to Renfrew Hall, with Carmen and Enrique, who were “buddies” for Kimberly Irion and Taehun Kim. Once the inner airlock door had closed, he entered the garage as well; it was a precaution they took to avoid accidental depressurization injuries.

The rear airlock door opened and out stepped Kim Irion, Mars flag in hand. Will had to smile. “I’ve never seen one of those before, Kim. Welcome to Mars.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She was obviously excited, almost giddy. She shook his hand enthusiastically. “Is there any possibility we can run this flag up the flagpole?”

“Ah, no, not right now. We’d create a diplomatic incident. But maybe in the future.”

“Okay.” She sounded disappointed. She moved out of the way to let the next passenger out. Will extended his hand to him. “Welcome to Mars, Taehun. We’re delighted to have you here.”

“Thank you, Commander, I am ready to serve.” They shook hands.

Pete Theodoulos came out next and extended his hand to Will.

“Welcome, Pete, and congratulations for a remarkable voyage.”

“Thank you, Commander. We’re all very happy to have arrived safe and sound.”

They shook hands. “We’re delighted as well. The flight, aerobraking, and landing are the most dangerous parts. Mars is a piece of cake by comparison. How was Phobos?”

“We really enjoyed the visit; it was fascinating. And as you know, the moon now has a very nice habitat under four meters of regolith.”

“Insulated and protected from micrometeoroids and radiation. It’ll be a great assistance, as will Deimos Station, and the enlarged Embarcadero Station.” The last was a collection of vehicles and habs in an elliptical 24.6 hour orbit around Mars, where all arrivals and departures to and from Mars occurred. Will turned back to the Conestoga to help with the luggage and cargo being pulled out. Roger Anderson, who had been driving the ranger and was Pete’s “buddy,” came to help as well. There were a dozen carts available and they loaded three with personal possessions; the other three were loaded with priority cargo. Meanwhile, the other Conestoga pulled into the garage and Will went over to welcome the others.

“Zach, welcome to Mars.” Hersey was a handsome man with carefully blow-dried hair, a low-cut shirt that showed a lot of his chest hair, and tight pants. Will was a bit startled; the others were wearing uniforms.

“Commander,” he replied, offering his hand. They shook; Hersey had an intentionally weak grip. “I’m delighted to be here.”

“It’s good to have you. You have a reputation for driving Mars Prospectors from Earth with intuitive exactness.”

“Thank you, and I enjoy construction as well. I’m looking forward to getting the biome set up.”

“Excellent.” Will leaned past Hersey to shake hands with Tatiana. “Welcome to Mars. We need your interior design expertise.”

“You’re very kind, Commander. Delighted to be here.”

“Boris, welcome to Mars. Your sociological research on the lunar station has been fascinating.”

“Thank you, Commander. We’re very happy to be here.”

 “Commander, any possibility we could go to our rooms via the biome? Is it set up?” asked Pete.

“Ah; yes, it’s been pressurized, and both airlocks are set up, so that would be possible,” agreed Will. “It’s not the most direct route.”

“It may be easier, though,” said Roger. “Fewer greenhouses with overhanging plants to traverse.”

“I’d like to see the biome as well,” added Tatiana.

“Fine; we’ll do it,” agreed Will.

The last carts were loaded up with luggage and soon almost everyone had one to push. Will took the lead, bringing the procession of people and carts across the industrial area that shared the lower floor of Joseph Hall and out the building’s north airlock. They entered a steel-lined tunnel four meters wide, three high, and about ten meters long that angled downward steeply, though in Martian gravity the carts were not hard to control on the ramp. At the far end they opened a door and found themselves in a big open space.

Several gasped a bit as they walked in; Will smiled, pleased by their impressed looks. They had entered a circular enclosure forty meters across. Outside the skin—which was transparent teflon FTP film and tefzel except for a mesh of kevlar cables running through it every meter—walls of orange-brown regolith rose ten meters straight up all around them; the enclosure was capped by a dome of the same plastics that soared thirty meters above the center of the space. The plastic bottom of the biome rested on a thick duricrete layer interrupted by periodic holes, some small drainage openings, other large holes with steel I-beams in the middle. Zach stood on the plastic skin over one of the holes and looked down at it.

They all walked into the middle of the biome, admiring the huge open space. Their conversation echoed off the bare walls and the taut plastic roof. “The structure’s barely 1.5 millimeters thick,” said Will. “But it was perfectly air tight when we inflated it. It’s surrounded by a thin dome of ultraviolet-absorbing plastic we made here. The outer dome is rated for inflation to 0.05 atmospheres; it rests about two meters away from and above the outer dome of the biome, protecting it from dust and capturing any leaking air. Powerful pumps will be able to put most of the air back inside, giving us extra protection against depressurization.”

“And what’s outside the sides of the biome? Duricrete?” asked Zach.

Will shook his head. “It’s more complex than just that. First we dug a hole and piled up the regolith outside to make it eleven and a half meters deep; that took six months. Then we installed the outer dome to hold in enough heat and pressure to allow duricrete to set quickly and to simplify construction in spacesuits. The sides are continuously welded sheets of nickel steel with vertical beams every ten meters to hold the shape. Once they were in place we blew a mixture of eolian dust, sand, and water behind them, which set to make duricrete. The steel shell is eight centimeters larger in diameter than the biome; after we inflated the latter, we blew eolian dust into the airspace to serve as insulation and as a cushion. Eventually the inner sides of the biome will be covered with panels of molded sheetrock and nylon fiber to protect it and to give climbing plants something to grab onto.”

“Underneath?” asked Kim, pointing to the floor.

“A duricrete layer, a meter of gravel with steel support beams strategically placed—you can see the tops of them—then a thin nickel-steel layer with a rebar-reinforced duricrete floor on top, on which this biome rests. The gravel layer provides drainage if the biome leaks at all, there are sensors to detect gas and moisture buildup underneath, and we have an access port.”

Zach pointed to a nearly invisible, inflated bubble inside the biome opposite them. “And that’s a future building?”

Will nodded. “Take a good look. There will be another one where we entered the biome as well, but it hasn’t been installed yet. The arc-shaped buildings will hug the southern and northern quarters of the biome respectively. They will connect at the eastern and western ends at the lower level, which will be subsurface. The area between them will be called ‘the yard.’ Each bubble is an airtight superstrength plastic mixture identical in composition to the dome of the biome. It’s about thirty meters long, six meters wide at the north and south ends, and widens to twelve meters in the middle. Each is three stories high, including the basement area. Basically, we build a building inside each bubble, leaving openings in the walls where we want windows, and build another building outside the bubble, leaving the bubble to serve as an airtight membrane in between the two.”

“It’s simpler than it sounds,” added Tatiana.

“So, where we’re standing now will be underground?” asked Zach.

Will nodded. “Yes, the yard will be a steel box with a watertight plastic liner filled with two and a half meters of soil; plenty for big trees. The roofs of the two buildings will have similar boxes of steel and plastic filled with soil for growing food; the soil and plants also provide excellent radiation protection for the housing underneath. The dome has almost 1,400 square meters of surface area, including the overhang; the upper gardens will project two meters beyond the edge of the building, providing additional radiation protection and shaded areas for play and for shade flowers along the edge of the yard.”

“We’ll also seed the ground inside the soil boxes with bacteria, so that water trickling through will be purified,” added Taehun. “The biome will provide and recycle our wash water and will provide final purification of sewage water.”

“Supplemented by solar distillation,” added Will.

“God, this will be a lot of work,” said Kim.

“For now, it’ll be more work than the previous system of concrete buildings and greenhouses,” said Tatiana. “But once we learn how to make them and perfect the designs we should be pretty efficient.”

“This system was sold to us on the grounds it’d be simpler and faster,” added Will. “But like any good idea, it took on a life of its own. Safety systems made it much more complicated. But the result should be much more pleasant than the old system because people will be living in a small park, rather than living in enclosures with small windows and having greenhouses stuffed with plants to walk through.”

“How flexible is the final layout of living space?” asked Zach.

“Flexible,” replied Will. “We can’t finalize everything until everyone is here, has gotten to know each other, and has decided what sort of space they want, especially what they’ll pay for.”

“We’re finalizing building materials, too,” added Tatiana. “The equipment that is arriving will bring capacities to make better wallpaper with brighter colors, for example, better ceramic tiles, a wider variety of furniture, etc. The use of the space has a lot to do with whether any of the equipment is lost and how quickly we develop its capacities.”

“And we have two of these biomes? What will we do with all the space!” asked Pete.

“The second one won’t be finished until Columbus 6 arrives, and Columbus 6 will need all the space,” replied Will. “It’ll arrive with another biome or two, which will be the space for Columbus 7.”

“Commander, I may need to talk to you about my housing plans,” said Zach. “They may change.”

“That’s fine. We’re developing a plan for creating and selling condos to everyone who wants them.”

“Good,” said Zach. “I may have plans to purchase.”

“Thank God we didn’t lose this thing,” said Pete.

“It was touch and go there, for a while,” agreed Will. Two weeks ago the automated cargo vehicle carrying the biome had experienced a shift of its cargo while aerobraking in the Martian atmosphere, causing its center of gravity to change and the capsule to reorient and leave the atmosphere prematurely. It had barely slowed enough to settle into Martian orbit and a Lifter had to chase it an extra week to catch it.

They lingered in the biome a few more minutes, then pushed their carts out another side and headed toward the “Mars Dome” or “Clarke Dome” as it had been renamed. They crossed it, then the party began to break up and go in different directions. Will went back to the bridge for a few hours, until he had to return to the garage to greet the next wave of arrivals. He was quite interested to see Lal waiting as well.

“Is she on board this flight?”

Lal nodded. “I’ve never met Radha before, also.”

“Then good luck, my friend.” Will offered his hand and they shook.

The inner airlock door opened and the conestoga pulled into the garage. The small group that was waiting entered the garage and Will approached the vehicle first. The door opened and waiting to step out was Radha Bhatt.

Will smiled and stepped out of the way, gesturing Lal to step forward instead. He hesitated, not wanting to get in the Commander’s way, but when he saw Will was staying out of his way he stepped forward. He offered his hand. “May I help you step out of the conestoga?”

“Thank you.” Radha smiled shyly. There was no need for either of them to introduce themselves to the other. She took his hand and stepped down onto the garage floor.

“Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes. Six months is a long time to fly to a destination, and it was a bit crowded, but it was pleasant.”

“I think you will find the Outpost more spacious.”

“And more green.”

“Definitely more green. Here, I’d like to offer you this.” Lal held up a small box.

“Oh, you are very kind.” She took the box and opened it; inside was a gold necklace.

“This is beautiful! Thank you, Lal, this is very kind of you!”

“It’s Martian gold, made right here. Have you luggage that I can get for you?”

“Yes, in the back. I gather I have a temporary residence, until we get married next week.”

“Yes; Habitat 3, room C4. It even has a window.” Lets get your luggage.” Lal led her back inside the conestoga; Radha never shook hands with the Commander, who was busy greeting other arrivals anyway.

About 3 p.m., the third shuttle landed safely as well. The safe arrival of Columbus 5’s eighteen crew was a cause for celebration. Everyone showed up in Renfrew’s Great Room at 6:30 for a reception, to be followed by the most sophisticated and elaborate banquet that could be produced on Mars. Ethel showed up right on time with Marshall and Lizzie. The little boy, now 4 ½, immediately headed to the corner to play with Sam Anderson, who was almost 4. Lizzie, six weeks short of her second birthday, joined them, and soon Corazon, born just twelve hours after Lizzie, joined her. Lisa Kok sat nearby with Anna, now six months old, to watch the kids. She was joined by Jennie Dunbar and her newborn son, Jake.

Reasonably free of her children, Ethel began searching for several particular arrivals. The first one she spotted was short, with black hair and a Mediterranean complexion, about 40 years old. “Ruhullah, I presume?” she said, walking up to him.

“Yes, that’s correct. Who am I meeting, please?”

“Ethel MacGregor.” She extended her hand to him.

“Oh, pleased to meet you.” He kept his hand away from hers and even pulled it farther back. “It’s quite an honor to be on Mars, with such well-known and talented people.”

“Thank you.” Ethel put her hand down, uncertain what the problem was, though she then remembered that many Muslim men would not shake hands with women to whom they were not related. “I hope you had a reasonably comfortable flight?”

“Yes, as well as can be expected. I’m very excited to be here. There’s an incredible amount of work to be done.”

“Indeed. I was wondering about another matter, Dr. Islami. You may have seen on the schedule that Sunsol morning we are planning an interfaith worship service at 11 a.m. Madhu Gupta-Anderson and I are planning it. We were wondering whether you were willing to select a passage from the Qur’án on interfaith cooperation and discussion—it could be on tolerance, respect for others, love for others, or related themes—to read at the service.”

“I see.” Ruhullah considered a moment. “Is this a Bahá'í-sponsored event?”

“Bahá'í sponsored?” Ethel was surprised. “No, not at all. The Commander has appointed a committee of two of us to plan it.”

“Will there be Bahá'í involvement?”

“Well, I am a Bahá'í, and we will include Bahá'í scriptures.”

“I see. I apologize, but I think I will have to decline your kind offer. You see, my marj’ah—Ayatollah Najafi—has said that it is appropriate for Muslims to mix as equals with other peoples of the book—in other words, with Christians and Jews—in an interfaith context, but it is not appropriate to mix with infidels in that context as well, as it would imply equality of Islam with infidelity.”

“I see. Thank you for letting me know; we will be sure not to invite you to participate in other future interfaith gatherings, then. But you are always welcome to attend them if you desire.” She smiled, seemingly undisturbed by his comment.

“I mean no offense. This is the teaching of Islam.”

“I understand. Enjoy the reception; I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She turned and walked away. Islami watched her go, wondering why a European woman of middle age would ever join such a crazy religion as Bahaism.

Eammon also watched Ethel; he had been within earshot and heard the conversation. He hurried after her. “Ethel, did you say you are a Bai-hai?”

She turned to him. “Yes, Eammon, I became a Bahá'í several months ago.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

“Well, I didn’t announce it to anyone. It’s a fairly private matter, one’s faith, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. Weren’t you Christian before? Or maybe I should say, Protestant?”

“Yes.”

“Ah-huh,” he replied, wondered what to make of a Christian leaving the fold, though at least she wasn’t Catholic. Ethel turned away from him as well, not very pleased by the sudden onslaught of negative feelings around her. She spotted John Hunter nearby and headed to him. He was fairly easy to recognize because of his American Indian features and his braided black hair.

“Dr. Hunter, I am Ethel MacGregor. Welcome to Mars.”

“Thank you, Dr. MacGregor. I’ve read some of your research about polyethylene manufacture here. Very clever techniques to overcome technological limitations.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind. I had no idea you were following such research.”

“Well, I’m a geochemist, and that means I needed to get more training in general chemistry in order to be able to provide assistance and backup to the chemical and plastic making processes.”

“Oh, of course. Well, perhaps we will work together. If I recall, you are Lakota, correct?”

“Yes; part Ogallala and part Yankton.”

“I ask because the Commander has asked Madhu Gupta-Anderson and I to coordinate an interfaith service on Sunsol, and we were wondering whether you could offer us anything native American for the program.”

“Yes. By the way, I prefer to be called ‘American Indian,’ not ‘native American.’ Legally, ‘native American’ refers to Indians, Eskimos, Hawaiians, and Samoan Islanders; and I am not a Samoan.” He smiled slightly.

“Oh, I see. I had no idea. Thank you for explaining these terms to me.”

“I’m delighted to be of help. Yes, I can offer a prayer in Lakota; is that the sort of thing you’d like?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“I would be honored to participate.”

“Excellent.” Ethel spotted Gregory Harris come into the room. Eammon made a beeline for him, much to her disappointment. “If you’ll excuse me, I now see the other person I need to invite to the program. Perhaps we can speak more later.”

“Sure.” Ethel turned away from Hunter and walked over to Harris. He seemed slightly relieved that someone else was coming to speak to him. “Mr. Harris, I am Ethel MacGregor.”

“Please call me Greg; everyone does.”

“Thank you. I’m Ethel.” She offered her hand with a slight hesitation, since Ruhullah had rejected it; Harris shook it warmly.

“I’m very pleased to meet you. You’ve been here the longest, right?”

“Ah; I’m one of the first six to arrive who is still here, yes.”

“You were the second person to walk on Mars, after Laura Stillwell.”

“No, that was David Alaoui. Shinji was third, so that would make him the record holder. Then Sergei, then me, then Will Elliott.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize.”

“I really don’t keep track of that. Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes, absolutely. As you probably know, we went to Deimos to set up the station there. It was a fascinating experience.”

“I very much enjoyed my trip to Phobos; I’ll always remember it. Greg, as I understand it, you are a former Catholic priest.”

“Yes, that’s correct. I did not come here as a priest, of course; I’m a ‘mission generalist’ and am here to serve in any capacity I am needed.”

“I understand that. Your experience as a priest makes you able to serve in various religious ways as well, though, and that would be welcome. Madhu Gupta-Anderson and I have been asked to plan the interfaith service at 11 a.m. on Sunsol, and we were wondering if you would like to participate.”

Greg smiled. “I’d be delighted! What did you have in mind?”

“Could you offer a biblical text on a subject related to interfaith cooperation and discussion—it could be on tolerance, respect for others, love for others, or related themes. If you could offer a brief explanation or discussion of the passage, also, that would be an excellent addition.”

“Sure, that’s easy. How many faiths will be represented?”

“So far, Catholicism, Protestantism, Hinduism, the Bahá'í Faith, and American Indian beliefs. I’m still looking for others.”

“You can count me in. This is just the sort of activity I want to support. You might want to speak to Taehun Kim, he considers himself a Pure Land Buddhist.”

“Excellent. Thank you, I will.” She had seen him come in and began to look around. Greg pointed. “Oh, thanks.” Ethel hurried to find Kim. Harris watched her go.

“May I ask, Father—well, that’s presuming my question—are you still ordained?” asked Eammon.

“Yes. I was ordained about eight years ago and four years ago I asked to be relieved of my priestly duties because I was becoming busy with my career as a nurse, but I never renounced my vows.”

Eammon smiled. “Excellent. We do have a supply of consecrated host and wine; it was just shipped up. I was ordained as a deacon many years ago and was given permission by the diocese of Houston to distribute the Eucharist here. In this manner we have managed to hold mass about once a month. But it will be much better with a priest here.” He smiled. “To think: you can effect the transsubstantiation of the elements right here on Mars!”

“Yes, I can work the magic,” replied Greg, a bit startled by Eammon’s enthusiasm. “But perhaps I shouldn’t put it that way. I was hoping to host a mass every few weeks. I gather of the fifty or so of us here, about ten are Catholic.”

“That sounds about right to me. Father, can you also hear confessions?”

“Yes, of course. I think if I get very involved in priestly duties, I should speak to the Commander about it; I wasn’t flown here for that reason. But there’s always Sunsol, when I’m off duty anyway.”

“Exactly. Oh, Father, I am so excited to have you here. There’s one Catholic woman here who might appreciate your support; Jennie Dunbar. She has a newborn baby.” He pointed to Jennie. “Jake was born two weeks ago, about the same time we almost lost the automated cargo vehicle; it made for an exciting twenty-four hours, I assure you. Her husband, Kevin, is divorcing her. He basically abandoned her.”

“Really? How unfortunate. Perhaps I should go speak to her.” Greg started toward Jennie, who made a good excuse to get away from Eammon. When Eammon began to come along, he shook his head. “Priestly privacy, please.”

“Oh, sorry,” replied Eammon.

Greg walked over to Jennie Dunbar. “I love babies, and yours is so small; how old is he?”

Jennie smiled. “Jake’s just fifteen sols old.”

“His formal name is Jacob, then?”

“Actually, no; we gave him Jake as his formal name. We both liked it.”

“He’s a beautiful child; can I hold him?”

“Yes, he’s very good with strangers. Everyone here holds babies, so they get used to it.” She handed Jake to Greg. He took Jake very carefully and tenderly and held him close.

“I love babies. Among other things, I’m a nurse, so I have a certain amount of experience with them.”

“You’ll get all the experience you need, here. I’m Jennie Dunbar.”

“Honored to meet you. Greg Harris.”

“American?”

“Yes, from Oregon originally.”

“And you’re a nurse?”

“As I said, among other things. I’m here to serve. Most people say they are mission specialists; well, I’m a mission generalist. Among other things, I’m in charge of all cleaning and the laundry.”

“Wow, that’ll wear you out!”

“No, we have a team of new robots in the cargo. Have you seen the Schoonmaker model 25 at work? It’s a round thing on wheels shaped like a big sea tortoise, about a meter in diameter. It has a vacuum attachment in front. It moves forward, vacuuming the floor as it goes, and it has a little arm that it can use to pick up stray objects off the floor and place them in a basket in its back. Then straight underneath it has a rotary wet mop that pulls water from an internal tank and washes the floor. Finally, the heated and filtered vacuum exhaust is expelled out the rear, where it helps dry the floor. Very clever; they’re now on sale to the middle class on Earth, the price has come down so much. I’ve got four of them. Then we have a Polly model 170 for the laundry room; it can take a basket of laundry, sort the whites from the colors, spray bleach onto stains, transfer loads to the drier, transfer those loads into the ironing and folding unit, then stack everything neatly for the customer to come and pick up the load. It’s something to see. Satursols I switch hats, though, and will operate the beauty salon. I can provide haircuts, trims, perms; you name it.”

“Really? Incredible!”

“And what do you do?”

“I’m the child care specialist here. I run day care, though currently I’m on maternity leave instead. Except right now I’m watching the kids here out of reflex!”

“Well, that’s not fair. Why don’t you leave Jake with me and I’ll introduce myself to the kids. Get yourself a drink, something to eat, sit and chat for a little while; I can watch them.”

“No, that’s alright—”

“Seriously.”

“Oh, really? Maybe I should.” She considered, then stood up. “Alright, I’ll go get something. But I won’t be far.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle children. Take your time.”

“You really are very kind, Greg.” Jennie stood and walked to the refreshment table. Greg cradled Jake in his arms and watched the kids playing. Eventually he walked over, sat with them, and played with them as well. When Will came in, he saw Greg with the kids and hurried over.

“So, you’ve met our youngest astronauts!”

“Yes. And which ones are yours? Let me guess; him and her.”

“Correct. Are they being good?”

“Yes, so far. But don’t worry; I can watch them for now.”

“But you should mix with the crowd.”

“No, the crowd will come mix with me anyway. God will provide.”

“Okay.” Will smiled. He headed to the refreshment table as well. Ruhullah was getting another carbonated water for himself. He watched Will a bit suspiciously as he filled his glass with the same. “Have you completely recovered your health from the accident on 2020BJ?” he asked.

“Yes, Commander, thank you, I have.” Islami seemed a bit stiff and uncomfortable.

“Good. I was very concerned about you. A group of us said prayers for your health the next sol; it was Sunsol and we were scheduled to pray together anyway, so we focused on your needs. I was very impressed by your study of Noachian magnetic stripes. I think your theory of partial crustal spreading is persuasive. Have you thought about what sort of sampling pattern would yield better data for you?”

“Indeed I have, Commander. There are seven magnetic zones in particular that should be sampled to confirm the spreading pattern I’ve proposed. Most of them can be reached if the Pisces Trail is extended westward, as planned. The trail would need minor deviations in the proposed route or some side trips to sample them.”

“You should write up the proposal and get it to Roger Anderson right away. He’ll be working on the road-extending schedule in a week or so. I’m not sure we’ll have Prospectors available to sample the spots.”

“Thank you, I’ll talk to him.”

“Good. Dr. Islami, I want you to feel comfortable to come to me about anything. We try to be a big family. We try to be friends here. So please, feel comfortable to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Commander. I appreciate the sentiment and I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good.” Will could see Islami was keeping an emotional distance from him, no matter what he tried. He nodded a goodbye and returned to the refreshment table, then mingled further.

John Hunter sought him out. “Commander, I have a question for you.”

“Certainly; what can I do for you?”

“As you can see, I’ve been growing my hair back; NASA wanted it cut for training and the launch. I hope you have no objection. The traditional way that many of my people wear their hair is long, with braids. It’s cultural.”

“I have no objection, John. If you can fit it in your helmet comfortably and safely, then I have no problem with it.”

“Thank you, commander. I have another question for you. I have brought a sacred pipe with me and a small quantity of tobacco. It isn’t any kind of tobacco, it’s the traditional kind my people grew. It seems to me the Mars dome is large enough to smoke a pipe in, if I wanted to do so. The biome will also be large enough for a small amount of tobacco smoke.”

Will thought. “Yes, those are the best choices, I think. Habitats are rather small and their air purification systems may be strained to deal with a lot of tobacco smoke. I have no objection to traditional ways or traditional ceremonies here as long as they do not cause an endangerment of any sort. The Outpost is no longer a small place; it now has hundreds of cubic meters of breathable air, and in the next two years that number will become thousands of cubic meters. We can be far more flexible now than we could have afforded to be six or eight years ago. We also have a much larger human population and it is more diverse. We have to accommodate that reality as well. Or perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘have to’ because that sounds forced. We can afford the costs of diversity better and will gain more benefits from diversity now than in the past.”

“I am very happy to hear it. It is a great honor to represent native, indigenous peoples on Mars. It is also a burden that I feel.”

“Many of us represent a people or a nation, so it is a burden you share with others. Let me ask you this. What do you wish in your heart to accomplish here?”

“To accomplish; do you mean besides the science?”

“Besides science, in addition to science; or it can even be the science itself. What is your cherished wish?”

John thought a moment. “To feel the spirits of the land here. I don’t know if that makes sense to you. This is a concept beyond mother nature, which is the white idea that is a bit similar. For the Lakota, the land is sacred; it is alive, it is inhabited or peopled you might say. That is as true of Mars as of the Earth.”

Will considered John’s thought for a moment. “If you can, share your experience with me. Because I dearly wish I could feel the spirit of this world as well. I love it too much. To me, Mars is not a mother nature. Mother nature feels green and verdant to me. Mars is a father nature, a powerful whirlwind, a cloud of reddish dust.”

“Perhaps you have already felt the spirit of this place, then,” said John, with a smile.

Will considered the idea. “I would think this place has to feel different from the Earth because there are no human ancestors here.”

“Perhaps. But there are already two dead humans who have left something here, not to mention your mother in law who is honored by the rock structure on top of Boat Rock. And there is the spirit of the fossilized life. It must contribute something ancient and primal.”

“Definitely, tell me what you feel, then.”

“If I can, I will share it. Normally I would hesitate, but I can see these matters of spirit have an importance to you. I will try.”

 

© 2004 Robert H. Stockman

 

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