4

Hellas

The sunwing approached the dirt landing strip gradually and smoothly, the six landing gears along its huge wings all extended and ready. Touchdown raised a brief cloud of dust in the thick air of the central Hellas basin. The machine taxied quickly to a halt, where it awaited the arrival of a ranger.

Helmut looked at his gloved hands and noted he was gripping his chair so tightly his hands felt cramped. He consciously forced them to relax. Then he briefly imagined the crash he had survived two and a half months earlier and his hands automatically tightened their grip on the chair again. He was always amazed he could trigger such a visible automatic reaction from his body. But the crash was not going to go away very quickly.

“Well, Helmut, we made it,” said Vanessa. She rose stiffly from her seat; it had been a tiring twenty-hour flight. She headed for the rear of the vehicle, grabbed her suitcase, and entered the airlock. He followed right behind her. They were the only two on board the remotely piloted vehicle.

Outside, Lal Shankaraman and Jacques Deschanel had just climbed out of the ranger and were waiting with their gear to get into the plane. They saluted the two arrivals. “Welcome to Hellas,” Lal said. “How was the flight?”

“Pretty good,” replied Vanessa. “We alternated between emails, watching movies, and pedaling on the stationary bike.”

“Sounds about right,” replied Lal. “Congratulations, Helmut. You’re a courageous man to get on a sunwing again.”

“Thanks; it was alright. Have a safe trip home.”

“Thanks. Radha can’t wait for me to get home. Aditi has been a handful lately.”

“And I’m looking forward to relaxing in my flat,” added Jacques. “Good luck; you guys should have some pretty interesting geology next month.”

The two men climbed into sunwing and zipped the airlock shut behind them. Meanwhile, Helmut and Vanessa got into the ranger, stowed their stuff, and waited in case they were needed.

A few minutes later, as the sun approached the horizon, the sunwing turned and began to taxi back up the landing strip. Since the accident, the rocket assisted vertical takeoff and landing system had been used as little as possible, to preserve its fuel for emergencies. In a half minute the aircraft began to rise into the sky, then it turned northwestward toward Aurorae.

“There they go,” said Vanessa. “I guess we should get to the expedition.”

Helmut nodded and put the ranger in drive. He steered them over the rolling, dusty plain to the cluster of vehicles nearby.

They went up a low rise and had a perfect view of the camp ahead. The expedition had remained at that location a week, long enough to clear the landing strip and examine eroding sedimentary deposits. At the center of the camp was a Mobilhab, the largest and most advanced vehicle available on Mars; it was really a mobile base eight meters long, 2.4 meters wide, and two stories high. With two four-bunk sleeping compartments, two bathrooms, a cooking and dining area, and a science lab, it was able to accommodate up to eight personnel, a dozen in an emergency. Its high-efficiency solar panels could make 60 kilowatt-hours of power per sol, enough to run its life support systems. Mobilhabs were used as accommodation to build new outposts and as temporary science outposts at significant localities. Their bulldozer blades were light in weight and rarely used.

Docked to the Mobilhab was a Conestoga, the trusted workhorse of Mars exploration, a single-story, eight-wheeled vehicle 5.5 meters long and 2.4 meters wide and high. In its front were massive bulldozer blades that could clear a track across the Martian desert up to four meters wide; mounted on its roof was a light crane. The Conestoga normally accommodated two or three, but could hold six in an emergency. Its rooftop solar panels produced 36 kilowatt-hours per sol. The Conestoga was used primarily to clear routes across the desert that the Mobilhab followed in. When an expedition was moving forward significantly, rotated crews could keep the Conestoga moving through daylight hours and sometimes at night. Expeditions in the polar regions were known to move forward twenty-four point six hours per sol.

Also docked to the rear of the Mobilhab—which had three airlocks—was a truck, in addition to the ranger Helmut was driving. The rangers were the original vehicles for Mars exploration; they were 2.4 meters wide, 2.0 meters high, and 2.5 meters long, able to accommodate one person—two or even three in an emergency—with six wheels and solar arrays on the roof able to make 20 kilowatt-hours per sol if the older panels had been replaced by the latest technology. They were equipped with bulldozer blades and could accommodate a small rooftop crane. The rangers helped clear the expedition’s main route, but were mostly used to visit places of scientific interest; sometimes the passengers got out to explore the area, and sometimes they acquired samples with a remote-controlled sampler arm.

The temporary base had a few other items, though one had to look closely to see them. Three hundred meters to the north, behind a boulder, was parked the expedition’s 150-kilowatt reactor. The robotically or remotely controlled wagon on which it rode had front-mounted water, oxygen, and methane tanks and a sabatier reactor that constantly took water and atmospheric carbon dioxide and made oxygen and methane; the other vehicles periodically docked to the reactor vehicle to replenish their methane and oxygen supplies and offload water. When the expedition was on the move the reactor rolled along the cleared route slowly under the control of its own computer, which sensed the sides of the cleared dirt track and monitored its global positioning system coordinates to make sure they matched those of the trail.

Closer to the Mobilhab was a Prospector carrier, a vehicle that could transport up to six telerobotically operated vehicles. Each Prospector weighed two hundred kilograms, had solar panels able to make a kilowatt of power, and could be driven a few hundred meters per sol. Helmut was pleased to spot the carrier; since arriving at Aurorae Outpost almost two months earlier he had spent most of his time driving Prospectors for the expedition.

Helmut directed the ranger straight to the unoccupied dock on the rear driver’s side of the Mobilhab. In a few minutes they had successfully docked and were able to open the ranger’s rear door to walk straight into the Mobilhab.

“Welcome, welcome!” exclaimed John Hunter, waiting just inside the door. Helmut smiled—he always liked the Lakota geologist—and shook his hand.

“Thanks, I’m excited to be here.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” John replied. He looked beyond Helmut to Vanessa. “Welcome to Hellas, Vanessa.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled; they kissed quickly, as they were fond of each other.

The others in the Mobilhab greeted the new arrivals. Tang Enlai, the chief eobiologist, was there; he had been on the expedition for months and was legendary for his long stays in the field. Andries Underwood, the assistant commander, shook hands with both of them. The other three personnel present were Tina Hvitmer, a geologist who had just arrived a week earlier and was scheduled to rotate home in a month to help take care of her six month old; Kimberly Irion, an “eobiochemist,” an expert on the biochemistry of the rise of life; and Daichi Furukawa, an engineer and mechanic. They all greeted the arrivals and Helmut again became aware of the fact that he was the youngest person present. He usually was.

Daichi pulled out the supper he had been cooking and Helmut helped Kim set up the dining table in the Mobilhab’s lower front room, which had its four bunks folded against the walls. “So, are you ready to set out?” John asked Helmut as they sat.

“Sure; when are we on our way?”

“Tomorrow. How much bulldozing have you done?”

“About fifty kilometers; not much.”

“That’s enough. I’ll put you in the rotation to bulldoze with ranger 2, then the Conestoga a week later. I know you run Prospectors.”

“And I’ve done geology field work in Dawes.”

“I know, you’ll be in the field rotation as well.”

“How long before we get to the ice chimneys?”

“Three weeks.”

“That will be very exciting,” exclaimed Vanessa.

“I’ve driven the Prospector waiting there for us; they’re spectacular.”

“Have you?” John looked around. “I think all of us have as well, or we’ve replayed the virtual reality of the exploration. You’re not the one who almost brought chimney three crashing down on the Prospector, are you?”

“No,” replied Helmut. “That was Greg. But I was there; it wasn’t bad judgment, we just didn’t have all the information we needed. It’s a good thing he explored that chimney, though; now we know the ice has discoloration.”

“Possible biotic discoloration,” added Enlai. “It’s too bad we don’t dare drive in closer and grab a sample for air transport back to the Outpost.”

“Even if that were possible, we’d want to visit the chimneys anyway,” said John. “It’ll be a fascinating destination. But first we have some pretty interesting terrain in Hellas to cross.”

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

Will Elliott looked up from his desk when he heard the door to his outer office open. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He glanced out his window at the gardens and the escarpment beyond; no one was waiting outside his office. Then Brian Stark knocked on the doorway of the inner office. “Is this a good time?” He looked upset about something.

“Yeah, sure, Brian. How can I help you?”

Stark walked across the room and stood leaning on the other side of the desk. “Is it true you’ve authorized setup of six new solar power units?”

“More than six, Brian. We have six smashed wings from the crashed sunwing; they have 720 square meters of solar panels. Don’t you think we’d be crazy not to recycle them?”

“Commander, you’re dejustifying the nuclear development program!”

“Colonel, we do not use the ridiculous word ‘dejustify’ here on Mars!” Will stared fiercely right back at Stark. “Dejustify is just a fancy word for saying don’t do something intelligent and useful because we want something else later. Well, Colonel, you have my full support for a reactor and a uranium enrichment program here, but we won’t have a functioning reactor for three and a half to four years; and that depends on who’s the next President—”

“No, Commander, don’t use that as an excuse. The current occupant of the White House is behind this, and so is John White. I don’t see how Krieger has a chance—”

“Really? The moderate Republican who’s now running best in the polls? And now it turns out White’s Vice Presidential candidate is gay; that will go over real well with conservative voters. But it’s irrelevant anyway; we need the power now, not years from now—”

“If you undermine the need now, you won’t have the reactor later!”

“Colonel, the Outpost needs an extra five hundred kilowatts right now; can you give that to us? Cassini would like to have five hundred more. Dawes would ideally like three hundred more. All three mining companies have said that they could be more efficient if they had more portable power, so they can prospect more. Can you provide that now? Because that’s the request. Yes, we can wait. Yes, we can foresake the expansion and the higher cash flow. But I have a better idea: make solar power units from the wings and fight like hell for the nuclear power project. How does that sound to you?”

“Politically naïve.”

“Fine.” Will shrugged.

Stark shook his head. “Don’t play with us, Commander. If White’s elected, he can make a lot of trouble for you and for Mars, and I’m well connected with his campaign. They have plans for this place, and I wouldn’t get in the way.”

“You’re beginning to make me think that the rumors are true, Brian.” In recent weeks there was a rumor, published in the New York Times, that the United States military was seeking an off-earth source of uranium and plutonium for their space defense system, and Will had been wanting to ask Stark about it. “I better not hear you were one of the leaks behind that story!” he added.

“Not me; I haven’t leaked anything. Do you deny that your group is the one proposing the use of Martian uranium in orbital weapons systems?”

“Commander, can you at least postpone the solar power units?” Stark asked after a split second of hesitation. His tone was conciliatory.

Will thought about the request. “No. We need the electricity now. Brian, I repeat, you have my support, but not at the expense of engineering artificial power shortages. That would be irresponsible. I should add that if it comes out that your group has been proposing Martian uranium for military purposes, this planet will see a sort of revolt, the Mars Commission will pull the plug on the plan, and my support will evaporate. I think you can anticipate that.”

“Alright, have it your way.” Stark turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. Will watched him go. The Colonel had not revealed anything; but in failing to deny he had essentially admitted he was connected to the rumored plan.

Will rose from his desk, disturbed, and began to pace. Mars, a world named for the god of war, was to be a world of peace. That was the determination of everyone residing there. Stark’s arrogance bothered him as well.

Tired of pacing, he went out on a walk around the Outpost to calm down. He started by heading north to Huron. The biome was mostly set up and the buildings inside were almost finished. As he entered he felt Huron’s chilly spring air against his skin. He looked up; there were still tall, black skirts covering the lower parts of the dome to reduce the total number of hours of daylight entering the biome, simulating an early March climate. There were also plastic screens over the inner dome to reduce the sunlight shining inside. Finally, a pile of snow three meters deep covered part of the northern wall, exuding cold air throughout the yard.

But the agricultural areas overhead were flourishing, thanks to warmer air closer to the top of the dome. The yard was covered with spring grass and had pairs of new apple, pear, plum and peach trees. In the western end of the yard, Lisa was overseeing the planting of two sugar maples. Will walked over to watch.

“Those trees get really big,” he observed.

She nodded. “Imagine, if this biome still stands a century from now—and I suppose it will—the two trees will touch the dome and their roots will fill the box around them! And they’ll be giving us maple syrup every spring as well.”

“We need some oaks; they’re magnificent trees.”

“We have some seedlings growing, but they’ll be planted in another year in the ‘Shenandoah’ bioarchive biome,” she replied. “It should be something; ultimately it’ll be a patch of climax forest.”

Will looked around. “The additional ten meters of diameter is really noticeable in here. It feels so much more spacious.”

“It is. The additional height is what I appreciate; the additional volume of air makes the environmental control systems easier.”

“I gather we have plenty of people wanting to move in, also.”

“Correct, demand for housing here has been as strong as in the other biomes. The winter every 334 sols won’t be that severe, after all, nor will it be as long as on Earth. The walkways won’t be icy. Six weeks of cold and snow, followed by spring flowers.”

“And Marshall is looking forward to the winter sports, especially the sledding. He doesn’t want to wait for the first full winter!”

Lisa laughed. “Well, we can’t advance winter, can we. It has to occur when the sun is as far from the equator as possible and the shadowing in here is at maximum: the solstices for each hemisphere. It’ll come along in good time.”

“I know.” Will looked around. “How’s everything going?”

“Pretty well. We’ll have the yard landscaped by next week. We have a few stray insects that got in here from the Alaskan tundra biome; they probably came in on someone’s clothes. Migration between biomes will be a constant headache and a problem for our agriculture, though the new genetically modified crops arriving on Columbus 8 will help a lot.”

“We’ll have to increase the isolation.”

“We can’t if people are going to use the biomes. Meanwhile, our two bioarchives are stabilizing in the greenhouses and Alexandra says the kevlar manufacturing will be far enough along to allow fabrication of domes by the end of the year. So we’re looking forward to starting construction on Shenandoah in a few months.”

“That will be exciting.” Will looked around. “Thanks, you’ve made my sol. Or maybe I should say the bracing fresh air has.”

“You look a bit run down.”

“I was, but the batteries are recharged now. Have a good sol, Lisa.”

Will headed out of the biome, inspired by the future he could see in the new space. Lisa was right; in a matter of months they’d be able to enclose spaces themselves, and large ones. It was very encouraging.

It also occurred to him that he needed to talk to Rosa Stroger. She was the other person on Mars who knew Stark’s mission, and she was a former naval officer as well. Possibly she’d be able to extract more information from him related to the New York Times article.

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

Clarke Dome had been nicely decorated for Catholic mass, but as he walked around taking down the artwork and banners, Greg had a nagging feeling of discomfort. He nodded goodbye to Eammon and Irina and their brood as they left the area.

“See you at lunch, Father,” said Eammon, who always invited Greg and Anna to sit with them at Sunsol dinner on the patio.

“Thanks, Eammon, but I’m skipping lunch this time,” Greg replied. “I need some prayer time.”

“Okay, Father; see you at supper.”

Greg nodded and watched the O’Hare family leave. Patrick, the oldest, would be five in December; the twins were three and a half; then the toddler, Mary, was thirteen months and the baby, Theresa, was almost two months. The O’Hares, with five children, were by far the largest family on Mars.

He carried the two banners he had taken down to his pile and placed them on top. “Can you help me with the trees?” he asked Anna.

“Sure.” She placed another banner on the pile as well and turned to an orange tree two meters tall in a large wheeled pot. They had moved it against the other trees to make room in Clarke for the mass; they hadn’t had to move very many trees that Sunsol morning, so it was pretty easy to push them back to their spots. They moved a banana and a grapefruit as well, then slightly adjusted the position of a pomegranate.

“You’re going to pray rather than eat?” she said.

Greg sighed. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“It’s too bad more people didn’t come this sol.”

“The O’Hares are half the crowd most of the time. More Catholics go to the interfaith service than to mass.”

“But any Catholic who worships regularly comes to mass. We must have twenty-five Catholics at the Outpost, and if fifteen show up at an interfaith service, it consists of ten people who come to mass every time and another five who go to the interfaith service irregularly. I had hoped more people would come to pray for the Pope.”

“We even had some Protestants come for that! I was impressed.” Greg thought about the Pope, who had started his third month in a coma. His illness was causing a leadership vacuum and immense controversy over what to do about it.

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No. Come on, let’s walk, okay?”

Anna nodded. Greg glanced around Clarke again, a verdant dome thirty meters in diameter that was used for large meetings, to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Then he placed the banners and the communion silver in a big box, closed it, and put it in its place against one of the walls near the airlock to Yalta Biome.

“Done. Let’s go sit up on the roof.”

“Okay,” said Anna. They walked into Yalta and across the patio, crowded with people enjoying their midday meal, then crossed the yard to Riviera. They climbed the stairs to the roof of Riviera south, where they were alone amidst gardens of corn, wheat, and vegetables. On the western end of the garden was a small area two meters square with a few chairs where one could look down on Riviera’s yard or out at the escarpment twenty kilometers to the north. Greg plopped down into a chair there and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt; it was a warm, humid afternoon near the top of the dome.

Anna sat and said nothing, waiting for him to open up. “It seems that my life is undergoing a change of direction,” he finally said. “And to some extent I don’t like it. I want to get into serving others more and stop serving as priest here.”

“Really? You do it so well, Greg; you’re a natural. And how better to serve others, than as a priest?”

“Or as a nun?” he replied. “No, I came here to serve as a nurse or as anything else Mars needed. I ended up serving as a priest because I still could—I had never renounced my ordination, just stopped functioning as a priest—and because of two people. Will Elliott encouraged it because he loves religion, and Eammon O’Hare encouraged it because he needed a priest for him to be Catholic.”

“That’s true. Without you there’d be no mass, no sacrament of marriage, and no baptism of kids.”

Greg said nothing at first. “I know, and I feel bad about that. Actually, the mass can continue without me; I could consecrate a great quantity of bread and wine before leaving the priesthood permanently, and after that it could be imported from Earth and distributed by deacons. Half the Catholic churches in the United States have to do that now because of the priest shortage.”

“Yes, unless the big, mostly empty churches have been closed and consolidated together into fewer parishes. That’s true across Europe as well, except where we have lots of Catholic immigrants from Africa. But why can’t you continue baptizing and marrying?”

“Because it feels wrong, Anna. I stopped serving as a priest on the Earth eleven years ago and only started up again here because of pressure from others. Besides, the church can manage without a priest. Catholics will have their marriages recognized by the church if a priest is unavailable. Baptisms will be recognized as well. If Roger Anderson wants to become a Baptist lay preacher, I’ll be glad to lay my hands on him and convey that continuity to him.”

“But people will do civil ceremonies, or even Bahá'í ceremonies.”

Greg shrugged. “Let them, Anna, if that’s what they want.”

“Does this have to do with me?” she suddenly asked.

He looked at her. “Yes and no. I’ve been getting tired of serving as a priest for a very long time. But I love you, Anna, and I do want to marry you. That has accelerated my thinking some. But I’m not saying all of this to put you under pressure.”

She laughed. “Thank you! I feel pressure anyway, though. I don’t want to be the cause of your abandonment of the priesthood!”

“You have to make your decision separately.”

“Decide about what? You haven’t asked me to marry you.”

Greg stopped and looked at her. “Well, I can’t say I’m much of a romantic. But as has been obvious for months now, I love you. You’re a truly remarkable woman, Anna, and you share my desire to serve others.”

“We have common values because you’re an ex-priest and I’m an ex-nun! That’s no reason to get married. But I have to admit, I love you, too, Greg. And I think we could be pretty good partners and helpmeets to each other. We even seem reasonably compatible.”

“We get along well, though perhaps if we live together we’d fight, I don’t know.”

“No, neither of us are the fighting type, though your bad jokes will get on my nerves pretty fast.” She smiled. “Have you thought what Eammon and the other active Catholics will say?”

“Eammon won’t be happy at all. But you know, I like Eammon, but he lives in a religious world of his own. I don’t think even Irina shares it. The Catholics here are all liberal except for him. I can’t continue to serve as a priest just because he needs me to make his world function.”

“I. . . agree with you there.” She looked out at the escarpment. “The Church is really suffering terribly right now, with the huge numbers of inactive Catholics, the priesthood shortage reaching crisis levels, the hierarchy getting more conservative and out of touch, and now the Pope in a coma. . . But Greg, I love the church, and I want to see it spread and flourish here on Mars.”

“I do, too, but it’ll have to spread without me as a traditional priest. Maybe the church would be willing to let me serve as priest and be married; they’ve done that in other places as an emergency measure.”

“There were married priests in Czechoslovakia under the Communists.”

“Exactly. I gave up being a priest eleven years ago because I didn’t want that type of life any more. I came here and found myself falling into the old pattern. I’ll support and strengthen the church here, but not as a priest.”

“And we see eye to eye there, as you know. I have been focused on Christian service for years.”

“So; will you marry me, Anna?”

She was startled he asked her. “I think I need to consider the question a while. Are you sure you want to ask?”

“Yes, very sure.”

She paused. “Yes, I will, Greg. Of course, I don’t know who here can marry us!”

“We’ll have to ask!” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She looked at him and smiled, and it was obvious she was thrilled. He reached out and took her hand. “I guess we have a few things to learn about relationships. I haven’t dated a woman for twenty-two years!”

“I’m not much better; I entered the convent when I was eighteen. Slowly, Greg. Let’s do this right.”

“I agree.”

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