6

Storm

 

Will pushed through the revolving door into Yalta’s Building 1. Since the yard still hadn’t been filled with dirt, he had had to walk up a long ramp to get to it. He had to pop his ears after entering; the revolving door maintained a slightly higher pressure inside the building, in order to keep the pressure shell inflated and to detect leaks. He noted the curved pressure door that could be closed over the revolving door unit in case the biome lost pressure; so far it had not been used at all, besides testing.

The interior of the first floor was rapidly taking shape. The revolving door brought Will into a small lobby onto which four doors opened: one led to an apartment with a living room, three bedrooms, and a bathroom; another to a flat with a living room, bathroom, and two smaller bedrooms or one large one; the third and fourth doors opened to a small living room, two ample bedrooms, and a bathroom. The apartments would take up four fifths of the floor; the remaining fifth, on the eastern end of the building and having its own door, would be the store. The top floor would be identical. The basement had been scheduled to have work spaces, illuminated by high basement windows and a light well penetrating the back of the building from top to bottom, but the demand for housing in the biome was making them reconsider that decision.

Most of the interior was still open, except for metal support beams every meter where walls would go. Enrique was busy placing two-meter wide panels of sheetrock against a section of metal supports, lining it up very precisely, clamping it in place, then drilling holes where the screws had to go. Then he carefully unclamped the sheet and carried it to a place near where it would be screwed in place by Zach and Thierry, who were making good time with power screwdrivers. They were installing the sheetrock along the building’s kevlar bubble; the metal support beams were almost touching the bubble and the space between the sheetrock and the bubble was just wide enough to unroll an insulation layer. They placed insulation, taped it into place, then screwed the wall over it.

Will paused to watch; they worked quickly and efficiently together as a team and clearly had a personal rapport that speeded up their collaboration. “Is this your unit, Will?” asked Zach. “I figured there aren’t many units that need three bedrooms.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to prejudice myself or anyone else, and we aren’t the only ones that could move into it. Three single people could move in together.”

“True. To whom are you planning to sell units?”

“We can sell units to one person, a couple, a group of individuals. . . it doesn’t matter. A person could buy a two-bedroom unit and rent out a bedroom, too.”

“How much will these units cost?” asked Thierry.

“That hasn’t been determined, yet. The cost of building them, right now, is something like $12,000 per square meter, so a fifty-square meter unit should cost about $600,000. All of us could afford something like that, but right now we’ve been getting free housing. I suppose we should pay about half of that.”

“Yeh, we don’t know what the market will be like,” said Zach. “You could buy a unit, then be unable to sell it.”

“The Borough probably will have to guarantee resale. I think we’ll have to end free housing, too; we’ll probably have to raise everyone’s salaries somewhat and charge them rent to stay if they don’t purchase a place. We can rent out space in the habitats more cheaply than in here. There’s a small army of lawyers working on the problem, especially the tax implications of owning or renting. We probably need to establish a tax system here as well; most salaries will be taxed by our home nations anyway. We might as well capture that tax money and reinvest it.”

“Interesting and controversial,” said Zach. He looked around. No one was close by and could overhear the conversation. “Commander, remember I said I wanted to talk to you about housing arrangements? Maybe this is a good time. Thierry and I want to buy a condo together.”

“Good. You can get your name in the pool, just like everyone else.”

Thierry looked at Zach, as if to push him a bit more. “Actually, to be more exact, we’d like to be able to move into a unit together right now, even before we can buy a place together.”

Will suddenly realized the implications of what they were saying. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh. Well, we can look at the housing allocations. There isn’t much spare room to make a larger apartment, right now.”

“What if we asked someone to switch?” asked Thierry. “John Hunter’s room is next to mine. I think he’d be willing to move into Zach’s room. Then we’d have two units side by side. We could remove the wall.”

“You can ask him. Right now there isn’t a lot of time for modifying existing space, but we could schedule it.”

“Commander,” asked Thierry. “I know you are a Bahá'í, and I know Bahá'ís do not accept homosexuality. I hope that won’t impair your judgment in this case.”

“Thierry, Bahá'ís do not impose their morality on others. Bahá'ís are not supposed to exhibit homosexual behavior, and they have views about the morality of homosexuality. But Bahá'ís also are not supposed to drink alcoholic beverages and I have not attempted to ban alcohol here, even if some think it might not be a bad idea, considering how dangerous life is here. Now, where alcohol is concerned, there is a consensus that it can be permitted Satursol night in the Great Room, and only if those imbibing have no plans to use spacesuits, rangers, or heavy equipment for twenty-four hours. We have no consensus about homosexuality. Do you want to raise the issue publicly, or not?”

Thierry had been barely listening; he had been becoming more and more angry. “Commander, I am highly offended by your comparison of homosexuality and alcohol consumption!”

“I apologize; I was not trying to offend in any way. Do you want this issue to become public, or should we deal with it quietly?” Will repeated. “It’s a question of your privacy.”

“I’d prefer an apology first!”

Zach put his hand on Thierry’s shoulder. “Calm down. And now Alexandra’s coming over.” Will watched the two men; clearly Thierry had no issue about their relationship being public knowledge, but Zach was more concerned. With Alexandra approaching, Thierry had to make a quick decision. He forced himself to look calm.

“As I said, housing will be sold to anyone and any combination of people,” Will exclaimed, continuing a harmless part of their conversation. “That is already an established part of the principles emerging from our discussions about the sale of these units. If the quantity of housing had few limits, we’d let someone buy as much as he wanted; a single person could buy a five-bedroom unit if he wanted. But we’ll have to limit housing more than that for a while.”

“How was the $12,000 per square meter figure determined?” asked Zach.

“The cost of making the biome bubbles and associated life support equipment was fifteen million; we aren’t including the cost of development. Shipping was another thirty-five million. Take fifty million and divide it equally between housing and agriculture; the housing is twenty-five million. Divide that among 2,000 square meters of space inside the buildings. That doesn’t include construction labor, which is another ten million, and locally manufactured materials, which are probably another ten million.”

“Wow.”

Alexandra was smiling. Will turned to her. “I see things are coming along quite well.”

“The walls are going up fast. Once you’ve got the metal frames riveted together and welded in place the sheet rock goes on rapidly. How was the launch?”

“Very smooth; no irregularities at all. The Elysium is now in orbit with Yevgeny, Charles, Andries, and Tina. Docking with ACV-2 should occur in about twenty-four hours.”

“Good. And the weather forecast?”

“The threatened dust storm shows no sign of reappearing in the next ten sols, and the forecasting is now getting pretty good. They should have plenty of time to move the Mars-bound cargo from ACV-2 and ACV-3 to Embarcadero’s docking ports, load their Earth-bound cargo into ACV-2’s cargo hold, load the stored Earth-bound cargo into ACV-3’s cargo hold, and send both automated cargo vehicles back to Earth with cargo.”

“They’re all itching to go to Deimos.”

Will shook his head. “The fuel’s available on the Lifters at Embarcadero, but the forecast is iffy. I suspect they’ll be loading ACV-2’s cargo into their hold and heading back here.”

“That’s what I told Yevgeny as well.” Alexandra shrugged. “It’s a shame they had to go up and fix a stuck manipulator arm. Dust storm season starts in less than two weeks, now.”

“There will be time for an expedition after conjunction. The weather will be better then, and we’ll have to go get ACV-3’s cargo anyway.”

Alexandra nodded. She pointed. “We’ll have the walls in place for this entire floor in about a week. Take a look around while you can; it’ll be divided up pretty soon! We’ve got the electrical and communications lines run; the water and air lines go under the floors. Spackling, sanding, and painting, installing doors, laying rugs. . .  there’s still a lot to do.”

“But it’s coming along nicely; I can see that,” said Will. “Lisa told me earlier this sol that soil for the rooftop gardens will be installed completely in another week. Then it’ll take six weeks to get the dirt in here for the courtyard, and we’ll be able to plant the courtyard as well. We could have this place completely set up by December.”

“I suspect the swimming pool and a few other niceties will take longer,” replied Alexandra. “But the work is moving along pretty well. It’s slower than originally scheduled, yes, but we’re learning how to get faster all the time. And these will be nice housing units; no question about it.”

“Everyone wants to buy them, it seems,” agreed Will. “Demand may be so high that we won’t have to go with a housing subsidy!”

“Oh, let’s not let the Mars Commission soak us,” objected Zach.

“The sales policies could get pretty controversial,” noted Alexandra. “Speaking of which, I hope you didn’t feel too beat up on the other night.”

“Me? No.” Will shook his head. “Pete will make a good chair of the Borough. It may be better that the Commander not occupy too many of the elected positions as well.”

“You shouldn’t feel offended, Commander,” added Thierry. “It’s hard to explain the psychology of us Columbus 5 arrivals. We were recruited to be colonists, not personnel, so we look at Mars as a long-term investment of our energy and priorities. I think the eighteen of us all felt Pete shared that vision with us.”

“I understand,” replied Will, trying not to feel hurt about the officer elections at the town meeting, even though he was. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been pushing the Commission, and before them NASA, as far back as the beginning of Columbus 3 to change their recruitment policies for the residents here. The first crew—Columbus 1—was supposed to come here for eighteen months, then mothball the Outpost for nine months and leave. Columbus 2 was supposed to do the same, and maybe Columbus 3 would leave a few people behind to maintain a continuous presence here. Well, Shinji, Ethel, and I volunteered to stay right away and threw off the plan. We loved this place and were willing to put up with the material privations of staying. So I understand how all of you feel, in fact I’m delighted all eighteen of you want to stay at least four years. I pushed the Commission to start hiring ground support staff for Columbus 4 who could be recruited for Columbus 5, so people come here knowing how difficult it is and willing to devote themselves to developing this world.”

“You made your own problem,” concluded Alexandra.

“And I’m glad I did,” added Will, a bit forcefully. “Aurorae Borough now has a real civil government. Who knows; it may not be long before the residents here get to elect the Commander. After Columbus 6 arrives, our population will be pushing close to 90, depending on how many children are born here. If Columbus 7 is scheduled to fly up thirty more, with natural increase we’ll have about 130. At some point a real civic government for this world will become a logical development.”

“Sooner, rather than later,” commented Thierry.

“We may have to pay our own way a lot more, first,” replied Will.

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

The next afternoon the sky turned gray and dusty as a local dust storm swept through Aurorae. “It’s a four-sol storm,” Will explained to Martha Vickers that night at supper. “It was predicted. This time of year when the atmospheric pressure reaches maximum and we approach perihelion, the canyons generate a lot of local dust storms. This is not a global phenomenon.”

“But I understand the seven-sol global forecast is beginning to point to a global storm,” persisted Martha.

“Well, the latest forecast generated just an hour ago showed the possibility of a global storm developing a week from now. But the models are not very reliable; the seven sol forecast is still only thirty percent reliable for major changes in the weather.”

“Of course, they are using a new supercomputer outside Paris to model Mars’s weather,” replied Martha. “Michiko told me it just started working two months ago, and it’s able to digest all the weather data the satellites can feed into it, so its forecasts are regarded as sixty percent reliable.”

“I think that’s right,” replied Will, backtracking. “I forgot about that. But this flight was approved in Houston; they saw all the data. They should be able to return on sols five or six anyway, after the local storm as dissipated and before a global storm spreads this far.”

“I hope so,” replied Martha. “Will, remember I’m three months pregnant! I worry about Charles!” And tears welled up in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” said Ethel, putting her arm on Martha.

Will put his arm on her as well. “We’ll keep Charles and the rest of the crew up there safe. There should be a landing window for them in five or six sols even if the global storm develops, which is not guaranteed. And if it does develop, they can wait a month or so and come down then, after the winds have dissipated. They’ll be safe; they have two ITVs to live in and enough food for years.”

“I know,” Martha replied, sniffling. She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “Excuse me. I’m a psychiatrist; I’m supposed to handle feelings like this.”

“You’re handling them the right way; sometimes a few tears are the best solution,” replied Will.

“Thank you, Commander,” she replied. Martha walked back to her table.

“It’s a hard situation,” said Ethel. “I would never have let you go up if I was three months pregnant.”

“There was no problem with the forecast then.”

“Never mind the forecast. There’s about one chance in three or four hundred you wouldn’t come back. That’s not good enough, when your wife is pregnant.”

“And we still really don’t know how safe these shuttles are,” Will reflected. He pointed discretely at a nearby table. “Radha looks a bit irritated with Lal.”

“Yes, she does. Well, they’re still getting to know each other, after all. They seem to be doing alright.”

“So far so good. Did you see Kevin with Kimberly?”

“Yep, and yestersol he was sitting with Christina. He seems to be looking for a new relationship, now that he’s free from Jennie.”

“That’s not good,” said Will. “I wish he’d talk to Martha more.”

“As we can see, she has enough problems of her own.”

“Not so many that she can’t help others. She’s holding this place together.” Will glanced at his watch. “Roger asked to meet with me after supper, real quick. I suppose he wants to talk about the exploration schedule.”

“The dust storm season could change all the plans.”

“Exactly. I’ll be home in time for family prayers.” Will rose, bussed his tray, and headed for his office. Roger was there when he arrived. “Looks like the first two expeditions will have to be postponed.”

“Certainly for the next four sols; after that, it’s looking bad. But I didn’t ask to talk to you about that.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Are you going to let Thierry and Zach live together?”

Will was startled by the question. At first he wasn’t sure what to say; Roger stared at him and he looked back. Then he sat down and pointed to the chair. Roger sat as well. There was a long silence as he formulated a response to his friend’s question. “Roge, you and I share many common moral values. I don’t approve of homosexuality. Many people here have no problem with it, and neither do any of the psychological organizations. Neither do more and more governments, either. The bottom line, I think, is that Thierry and Zach can’t be told that they can’t love each other. This isn’t something Martha can cure. They already love each other. What do you propose to do about it?”

Roge hesitated. “Will, there have to be standards. A society can’t survive without them. Earth is rotting without standards.”

“I agree. We have to build a society here where there is no crime, or at least as little crime as possible; we can’t afford to maintain jails and lock up people when their labor is worth millions. We have to build a society where we don’t have unemployment or welfare or poverty. We can’t afford them. Earth has never succeeded to make these changes. I hope we can build a society where children are born, grow up, stay, and start new families. We need as many children here as possible. But we can’t order people to get married and we can’t ordered married people to have children.”

“What if they ask whether they can get married?”

“Then we’ll have to decide what to do about the request. The borough will have to hold a town meeting to decide. That’ll be an interesting discussion.”

Roger was surprised. “Huh. Knowing the crowd here, it’d be approved, too.”

“A domestic partnership arrangement could be proposed that equals and parallels marriage, but is different. But this is a pretty liberal group; I doubt they’d go for it. So I wouldn’t worry about selling a condo to them, or letting them live together. They’re going to have rooms next to each other; Thierry’s asking John Hunter to switch rooms. They both know construction pretty well; they could demolish the wall between their two rooms on a Sunsol pretty easily, even without official permission. And anyone who is of legal age and lives here can buy anything with anyone else. You and I have the right to buy a condo together if we want.”

“I suppose.”

“So I’m asking you to be polite and friendly to all your fellow residents and colonists on Mars, whether they’re Chinese or American, men or women, adults or children, gay or straight.”

“That’s a tall order, Will.”

“Aren’t you supposed to love everyone, even if you don’t like everyone?”

“Will, Jesus calls us to love everyone, but that doesn’t mean we have to support their life style.”

“I didn’t ask you to support their lifestyle, just to be civil to them. We have to work together here to survive.” Will shook his head. “Sleep on it, okay?”

“Alright. Thanks for the time.” Roger Anderson rose and left the office.

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

The next morning dawned very gray. Érico called him right away after the forecast came in. “Pop up the weather website. Apparently the Marineris storm is spreading. It may become one of the contributors to a global dust storm.”

“Really? That’s a big change!”

“The forecast isn’t always right. There’s a real risk trying to model Martian weather forecasting on the Earth’s, with its seven and ten day forecasts. The accuracy just isn’t there.”

“But they say weather here is simpler than on Earth; there’s no land-sea interface to predict.”

“There isn’t, but we have about three orders of magnitude less data about the atmospheric conditions here than the supercomputers have for the Earth’s forecasting, and this time of year the polar-tropical interface is just about as complex as the sea-land interface. In two years we’re slated to receive a new fleet of satellites—over a hundred million bucks worth of equipment—and they’ll increase our atmospheric and surface data ten fold. Meanwhile, we have to be careful.”

“When can the Elysium return?”

Érico laughed. “Now we’re looking at a month, minimum.”

“A month! That’ll be a big surprise for everyone. We never should have taken the chance and launched.”

“No. You’d better call them.”

“Okay.” Will closed the circuit and went to the website. It indeed predicted the continued growth of the Marineris storm over the next ten sols—the limit of the forecasting—and the expansion of several other storms that had started until the entire planet was enveloped. The long-term forecast was much vaguer, but it predicted one to three months of dust and high winds.

He called Yevgeny, who answered immediately. “Good sol, Will,” he began. “I suppose you’re calling about the weather.”

“Yes. Have you seen the new forecast? The Marineris storm is predicted to grow, rather than shrink. They’re now predicting a global dust storm: category 5, the biggest storm this planet makes. We’ve never seen one of them since humans landed here.”

“I know. We could be up here until April if that happens; those kinds of storms usually last the entire five month storm season! I just looked at the weather forecast five minutes ago, and I told everyone. Charles is calling Martha and she’s in tears.” He said the last sentence in a low voice.

“I know; she wants him home. But the shuttle can’t land in a 150 klick cross wind. Remind me of your fuel situation.”

“We have Lifters 5 and 6 here. Once they sends the two ACVs on their way back to Earth and return to Embarcadero, they’ll still have twenty tonnes of liquid oxygen and methane each. We need thirty-three tonnes to deorbit and land, and we have five tonnes in the shuttle’s fuel tanks already. So we have plenty. We could also use the fuel to send the shuttle and its cargo and one of the two ITVs to Deimos; that would consume sixteen tonnes. Lifter 7 is sitting on Deimos with fifty-four tonnes of fuel in its tanks, so it has plenty to send the shuttle, cargo, and ITV back to Embarcadeo, then deorbit the shuttle and cargo.”

“How much work do you have left on the ACVs?”

“It’s finished. Between the two ACVs, we have fourteen tonnes of consumables; if we had to consume them, they’d last the four of us several years.”

“That’s what I thought. Get the ACVs on their way back to Earth with their cargo; that way they can come back two years from now. We’ll reexamine the situation in four sols. If the forecast hasn’t miraculously improved, you guys should talk about whether you want to move to Deimos. Not only can you do some useful science while waiting out the storm; you can spend four sols per week in zero-gee but underground and protected from radiation, then three sols per week on the ITV where the radiation is a bit less in the moon’s shadow and where you have gravity for your bones.”

“And for showers! Not to mention washing clothes. We’re anxious to go to Deimos, Will. A month or two there would allow significant study. There are plenty of proposed sorties and studies. We’ll vote, as you say, and put in a proposal to Mission Control.”

“Okay, good. And keep in touch with me. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Will closed the circuit and went back to the weather website. Category 5. Mars had a dust storm of that size once every thirty years or so; they were not common. Insolation to the surface would be reduced by ninety percent, which meant their solar panels would make a tenth as much power. Their solar power units would be impacted much more seriously because once the disk of the sun was obscured, the diffused sunlight could not be focused on the panels; they would go from 150 kilowatts of electricity and another 150 kilowatts of heat to 1.5 kilowatts of each. The Outpost relied on four such units; but fortunately it had five nuclear reactors able to put out 150 kilowatts of power and 650 kilowatts of heat. They’d need the heat because the greenhouses would trap less solar heat and would have cold air blowing against them. And the wind turbines would put out plenty of electricity.

Underground, their four water wells reached about two hundred thousand tonnes of rock that had been heated by the solar power units, over many years, to 100 Centigrade. Those rocks could give the heat back now, heating the Outpost for months. They had three fully-fueled shuttles at the Outpost; each could generate water and carbon dioxide and put out a hundred kilowatts of electricity continuously for eight months. Finally, they had spare oxygen in the underground wells and about one hundred tonnes of plant matter that had accumulated in the greenhouses; burning the latter in the former could make a hundred kilowatts of heat constantly for six or eight months, or it could be converted into methane and run through the fuel cells to make electricity.

There was no doubt: they were in pretty good shape from the point of view of power and heat. But agriculture would virtually collapse; the plants would survive, but would bear almost no harvest. It would be impossible to send out any expeditions. The nuclear reactors had to stay at the Outpost to provide power and sunwings would be unable to take off and land, grounding their supply and rescue capacity.

Will headed out of his office to find Roger Anderson. The science plans would have to be postponed, probably in favor of more short-term construction. They could make up for it later.

Will and Roger talked, then went to find Alexandra so they could redesign the overall mission plan. They outlined an acceleration of the construction work. Will was walking back to his office through the tunnel where the store was located during a particularly fierce phase of the storm.

“Will, it’s like being in a blizzard!” exclaimed Silvio. He pointed to the side of the tunnel facing nearby Renfrew Hall. Talcum-powder-like dust was literally raining down on the tunnel, swirling on its flat upper surface, then spilling down the side. Will stopped to look.

“You’re right; it does look like a blizzard! I’ve never seen it this fierce outside before!”

“Never?”

“No. This appears to be headed toward becoming a category 5 storm, which means it’ll engulf the entire planet except the tops of the volcanoes and the north polar cap. It’s probably going to last four or five months.”

“Four or five! Are you sure this tunnel will be safe against the wind?”

“Sure, no problem. We’re getting gusts outside up to 200 kilometers per hour, but the Martian atmosphere is a hundred times thinner than the Earth’s atmosphere, so the pressure it can exert on a structure is equivalent to only a twenty kilometer per hour wind on Earth. Sand blasting is the bigger danger, but all our structures are covered with an extra layer of plastic that can be replaced after the storm season ends. Another problem will be temperature; this tunnel will get cold. You may need to add extra heaters and extra lights during the day.”

“I’m amazed how dark it is out!”

“It is; it’s a heavy overcast right now. But we have plenty of power. The four wind generators on Boat Rock are producing an unprecedented fifty kilowatts each! That means the wind is averaging 150 kilometers per hour up there!”

“Yet if a man goes outside, he wouldn’t be blown over?”

“Correct, but his suit would get sand blasted a bit and he would have to use GPS to find his way back to the airlock. Not many people will be going outside for the next month or two or three. If you get cabin fever, go to the biome and help build it.”

“That’ll speed the work, at least. Say, speaking of the biome: everyone is driving me crazy with questions about the purchase of units there. I’m going to start saying nothing at all; anything I say seems to fuel rumors.”

“I think that’s wise, Silvio. How are the plans standing right now?”

“The conversations all point to high demand for housing in the biome and much lower demand in the old habitats and halls. Clearly, we need to set a higher price per square meter in the biome; probably double elsewhere. My inclination right now is to use the $12,000 per square meter figure in the biome. Also, I suggest we do no rental at all; everyone can buy their room or apartment. They’ll get the money back when they sell the unit, so there is no penalty against their salaries. The Commission should guarantee a base price for everything. We’ll also have to charge a monthly assessment to cover services such as light, heat, water, sewage, pressurization, etc., and I propose that we raise everyone salaries equal to the average assessment. People who want to buy a larger unit will be penalized and those going for a smaller unit will come out ahead. Considering our tight quarters, such an incentive is important.”

“That makes sense. So, a 75 square meter condo in Yalta will cost $900,000?  Ethel and I could pay cash for a place like that.”

“Sure; you’ve been saving and investing for almost nine years. If we were to sell the entire three floors of the two buildings in Yalta, the Commission would gain twenty-five million bucks, enough to build and fly here half a biome. That’s the elegance of this scheme: the colonists themselves help pay for the development, but they don’t lose anything either because when they leave they can sell the unit to someone else. The money goes round and round that way, and this place gets bigger and bigger.”

“It builds loyalty to this place and saves money.”

“Our preliminary proposal allows anyone or any group of people to purchase, too. I assume that’s agreeable?”

“To me, yes. Are you referring to something in particular?”

Silvio hesitated a moment. “Thierry and Zach.”

“I’ve told them I thought they should be able to buy together, just like anyone else.”

“Good.” Silvio clearly was relieved.

“I’m curious; are there rumors floating around?”

“Yes. It’s hard to say how many people have heard; I don’t think it’s gotten to everyone.”

“No. I did have one person approach me, though. I told him I wanted civility among the crew, not stigmas and rumors. Please discourage rumors about the matter, alright? Thierry and Zach deserve their privacy.”

“If they want it.”

“Yes, exactly. Say, I have another matter for you as well: the Dunbar divorce. When are you expecting the result of the alimony appeal?”

“Next week. Like I said before, I think Kevin will lose. The idea of putting one fifth of the salary of each of them into a trust fund for Jake is an elegant solution to the problem of predicting the costs of raising him. Neither will promise to stay here on Mars, though no one will dare take the boy through outer space to Earth for several years at least. We don’t even know how much raising children here will cost; in five years we may have meal tickets and everyone will pay for their food.”

“We’ll probably have to institute that. Let me know.” Will looked around at the shelves. “How’s business?”

“It’s slowing down. Maybe the initial excitement of being able to shop is being replaced by the realization that it is very expensive. People have a lot of adjusting to make before we can establish the beginnings of a market economy here. The starting salary of $250,000 is five or six times the starting salary of the average professional on Earth, but we get free food, medical care, and lodging; that makes our income the equivalent of twenty times the average salary in the U.S. or Europe! But people don’t want to spend about twenty to fifty times as much to purchase a bottle of wine or a new shirt. They’ll adjust to the new scale of everything eventually. It’ll help once we can make things here.”

“In good time.”

“Any idea when we might be able to set up and use the cloth weaving, cutting, and sewing equipment?”

“No. The fabrication specialists are hard put to keep up with the work to prepare the materials needed by the biome. Don’t worry; all in good time.” Will smiled; Silvio was constantly pushing him about privatization and economic autonomy. “I’ve got to run, Silvio. See you at supper.” He hurried through the tunnel and to his office, where there was a series of communications waiting for him. Rather than plunge back into work, he pressed the icon to hear David Alaoui’s latest video message. His joy from hearing from his friend was mixed with surprise and irritation, because the Magellan mission to Venus had left Earth during his series of emergency meetings, and he had completely forgotten to watch!

“Hi Will,” David began. “Just thought I’d give you a quick call. The trans-Venus injection has brought memories rushing back from Columbus 1. Feeling the engines rumbling as they pushed us away from home, watching the Earth noticeably shrink in size as we coasted into the void. . . it was just like nine years ago. The cruise will be basically the same as well, though the interplanetary transit vehicle is a bit different in design; it’s noticeably smaller in places because of the ten to twenty centimeters of water surrounding us to reduce our radiation exposure, not to mention the oxygen and methane tanks above and below us to power our return flight. The end of the cruise will be the same as well as we blaze through Venus’s upper atmosphere and settle into a twenty-four hour elliptical orbit, just like the Cimmerium did around Mars. The frightening difference—maybe I shouldn’t say frightening, but that’s what I feel sometimes—is that we have no safe haven on the planet’s surface. Mars represented safety for us, but Venus can only represent death. Humans can never land there, that’s for sure! The Prospectors should survive for weeks at a time—maybe months, if we’re lucky—so we’ll be busy on the surface through telepresence. And as you know, we should manage to get samples back if the methane manufacturing works. If it doesn’t, with any luck Magellan 2 will retrieve them instead.

“Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the show; I understand the video of trans-Venus injection was pretty good. The four of us are excited and confident about this mission. The French public’s thrilled; we’re doing something NASA hasn’t! Of course, there’s a lot of criticism about the ‘waste’ of money needed for social services and the risk. But the exploration should be worth it, in my opinion.

“Let me know your thoughts. Bye.”

Will had to smile. He missed David and memories of their departure for Mars flooded back. Nine years; it seemed like yestersol. He hit reply.

“Good sol, my friend. I miss you and am thrilled that you’re leading this new adventure. Nine years ago, I don’t think anyone would have imagined that someone would be going to Venus, let alone that the trip would involve a modification of our transportation system and you’d be Commander! It’s a real tribute to French planning, resolve, and technology. The Venus Commission will be in Paris, not Houston. I was looking over the science goals the other sol and I don’t think anyone will argue that sending four humans is a waste of time. You’ll do twenty times more science than remote-controlled vehicles from Earth could do during the same time frame. Venus exploration has grown beyond the robotic stage; there’s too much to learn. And the safety of the mission is excellent; you’ve got two complete sets of equipment for the return trip, after all. The new interplanetary greenhouse will be a fascinating experiment in its own right. I suppose the real question is, are the French planning to add a landing stage and put an ITV on Mercury at some point? The American solid-core nuclear engine may be the key to doing it! It’s really amazing to think what we might achieve by mid century, at this rate.

“I didn’t see the video of TVI, but I’ll be sure to watch it. In fact, I’m embarrassed to say that I completely forgot about it. We’ve been managing what may be a major event up here in the last few hours. I’ll refrain from calling it an emergency or a crisis, though with improper planning either term could end up being right. We’ve started a really major dust storm up here. The forecast’s not very definitive, but in my bones I feel that this is the storm of the decade; maybe of the half century. We’ve got four guys stuck in Mars orbit, probably for a few months, but they can head for Deimos with an ITV in tow and will be perfectly safe, while accomplishing a vast amount of unexpected science. Down here on the surface, we’ll have to shift our personnel from exploration to construction; we’ll need the nukes here at the Outpost to keep it lighted and heated, and the sunwings won’t be flying at all. So we have a few challenges, on top of some social tests that have strained everything lately, with baby number seven coming along in a week or two as well! So you pray for us, David, and we’ll pray for you. It’ll be an interesting few months for everyone.”

 

© 2004 Robert H. Stockman

 

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