4

Proposals

Three sols later, Guillaume Van de Velde was given a grand funeral at the Outpost, followed by interment in Aurorae Cemetery, a small area at the base of Face Rock surrounded by Mars’s only public park. The funeral helped assuage the shock of the crash and bring about a mental adjustment in the residents of the planet, who had taken their air transportation system for granted even if it was experimental. Also assisting everyone was the renaming of 2019XA as the asteroid Vandevelde, which brought Guillaume’s name into the news regularly.

Exploration of the asteroid managed to stay prominent in the media for about a month because midsummer on Earth was a slow news time and because the Mars Commission promoted the story very successfully. Aster-1’s rover set out on a traverse of the big rock and completely circled the place in a few sols, thanks to the very short time delays during Vanvdevelde’s flyby of Mars. It also traversed pole to pole, then brought back samples to Aster-1 for analysis by its automated rock lab. Within a month the asteroid’s origins and major events in its development were tentatively outlined, and several mysteries were first postulated, then resolved. Aster-1’s six-month stay promised to explore the worldlet about as much as it needed, and added another datapoint to the exploration of the solar system.

It also lend additional impetus to plans to send humans to Gradivus in the fall, which triggered some difficult discussions. One Sunsol afternoon, Roger approached Will, who was sitting outside his flat near the swimming pool, watching the kids swim and reading a book at the same time.

“Hey Will, can you come over to Yalta for a few minutes? We’ve got a table full of geologists talking about Gradivus.”

“What about it?”

“Who will go; and the discussion’s rather hot.”

“Okay.” Will glanced back at the pool. Madhu and Ethel were busy talking on the other side. “Can you watch the kids?”

Ethel nodded and kept on talking to Madhu. So Will rose and headed for the patio, where a table full of geologists were still lingering after brunch ended. Among them were Lal Shankaraman, Helmut Langlais, Yevgeny Lescov, Ruhullah Islami, Husni Hijazi, and Johnny Lind.

Will felt the tension around the table as he approached. Helmut had his left leg straight out and it was wrapped in heavy bandages. “Better than a cast?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s coming along,” Helmut replied.

“How’s the Prospector work?”

“It’s been fascinating.”

Will grabbed a chair nearby and pulled it over. “Okay, Roger, what did you tell him?” asked Johnny, who was new, ambitious, and a bit brash.

Roger was clearly irritated. “I didn’t prejudice him; I said nothing.”

“Here’s the problem,” exclaimed Johnny. “Just about everyone around this table wants to go to Gradivus. So does Andries Underwood and John Hunter; at least when I left the expedition last week I asked them and they both expressed interest. And Emily Scoville told me she’d even take a leave of absence from her job running Cassini to go.”

“And all of you can’t go,” said Will. “Of course, there will be other expeditions to asteroids; probably one every two years. The Commission makes the decision who will go, not us.”

“If we say who we think should go, that’s who they’ll pick most of the time,” replied Lal. “The existing system for making assignments seems to work fine, I think.”

“That’s because you have seniority!” replied Johnny. “Those of us who don’t have seniority would like to have a chance to fly on this mission, though.”

Will looked at him. “How?”

“A lottery.”

Will scowled. “We’ve used seniority for some good reasons, Johnny. If anyone plans to stay here a period of time, they need to have a sense of progress, of promotion; of privileges earned. This place is growing, too, so it’s easy to get promoted over time because there are more foot soldiers following behind.”

“But what about merit?” asked Johnny. “Seniority can be a very unrewarding system, too; it gives promotions based on time served, not based on contributions.”

“We’re assuming everyone here has roughly equal merit,” replied Roger. “After all, we all ended up here after a rigorous selection process.”

“And we don’t promote just on merit,” added Will. “We do take contributions to the mission in mind.”

“How many people have applied for the mission?” asked Lal.

“Thirty-seven I think,” replied Will. “We have pilot, engineering, and geologist positions available, and a lot of people here are qualified for them.”

“A lot of people are qualified for more than one,” added Lal. “Érico could apply for all three positions, I think. Others of us—like me—have family responsibilities that prevent them from going, even if they are qualified.”

“Most of the applications are from people who have arrived in the last few columbiads,” agreed Will. “Those of us who arrived near the beginning haven’t applied, because of kids or existing responsibilities. Ruhullah, how many people did we figure were qualified to go?”

Ruhullah paused to think a moment. “We decided to limit the geology pool to folks who have done work on Phobos or Deimos. That’s twenty-five, I think. We have fifteen certified shuttle pilots, some of whom are also certified as geologists. The two engineering positions are more complicated because no one has all the certificates we need, but there are about forty people qualified to apply, some of whom are also pilots and geologists. I think altogether that’s sixty of the hundred adults here.”

“We have a remarkably well trained workforce,” added Roger. “I bet half the human beings qualified for an asteroid flight live on Mars.”

“That’s why we only need a three month lead time for training the crew,” noted Will. “Everyone’s already trained, really. We know the equipment and conditions pretty well.” He looked at Johnny. “I don’t know what to say. We have to make a decision later this week, and I don’t see an alternative to seniority.”

“How about this. You have two geologist positions. Fill one of them based on merit or on overlapping qualifications, such as pilot/geologist. Fill the other position by lottery.”

Will looked at Johnny, considering. Johnny looked back at Will almost fiercely.

“Do you feel lucky?” asked Will, with a smile.

“I’ve always been lucky. I’m here, aren’t I?”

Several chuckled. “Then we’re all lucky,” replied Will. “Tell you what. One position can be filled on the mission by lottery out of four. We need a geologist, a pilot, and an engineer. We’ll fill them based on a combination of seniority and certifications. But we also need a second person to do each of those jobs as a backup, and we’ll have four positions total. If we have a geologist and a pilot who is a geologist, we’ll need a backup engineer, and we’ll choose that person by lottery. Or if we have a pilot/engineer and an engineer/pilot, then we’ll have two geology positions and we’ll fill one by lottery. Fair enough?”

“No,” replied Johnny, but he sounded puckish, not upset. “But close enough, I guess.”

“The best we’ll get,” added Husni Hijazi, who had relatively little seniority.

Will looked at Roger, who didn’t seem completely pleased with the compromise. But after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll automatically put everyone who has applied into the lottery and generate a random number for them.”

That ended the argument. People sat back in their chairs and relaxed. “Have you any insights into this Republican candidate for President, Will?” asked Yevgeny. “He sounds frightening to me.”

“In terms of his Mars policy? He said publicly that if he’s elected President, he’d abolish the Mars Commission and put the Mars operations back under NASA control. But of course the next day he retracted that. I think people pointed out to him that the idea was impossible.”

“He seems pretty green, but he’ll learn,” added Roger. “I know a few folks in the campaign, and they’re pretty reliable.”

“But Jones is pretty crazy, don’t you think?” persisted Yevgeny. “He’s the most conservative candidate in thirty years, they say. He has promised to abolish abortions, abolish the income tax, require movie theaters to check the minimum ages of children coming to see movies with certain ratings, he wants to pull out of a dozen international treaties. . . it’s crazy.”

Will nodded. “As you know, the American public has both a liberal side and a conservative side, and sometimes it swings toward one pole or the other. The current President is so liberal, there has been a reaction; he’s the most liberal President in fifty years, they say. And with a moderate Republican in the race as an independent, he’s grabbed a chunk of the middle of the electorate. It’s very unpredictable what will happen in November. A week after the Gradivus mission sets out, I should add.”

“The President’s foreign policy has angered a lot of conservatives as well,” added Roger. “He’s coddled too many countries harboring terrorists.”

“Hey, there’s no evidence Khalistan has been involved in terrorism,” exclaimed Husne quickly.

“Maybe,” replied Roger, skeptically.

“Let’s not argue about politics, or we’ll be swept into all sorts of fights that don’t pertain to Mars,” said Will, quickly. “If you all don’t mind, I want to get back to Riviera; I promised Marshall I’d swim with him, and he’s been in the pool all this time waiting.” He rose.

“Thanks, Will,” said Roger.

Will nodded and stood to head for Riviera. Helmut stood up as well. “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure. You don’t need crutches any more?”

“No, the foot’s pretty much healed. The knee needs physical therapy, and walking is good for it.” They both started walking across the biome to the airlock leading to Riviera. “I wanted to ask you whether you thought I could get assigned to the Hellas expedition. Anna said I need another two weeks of physical therapy and I’d be done. There’s a flight to the expedition in two weeks for a crew change.”

“Well, first we have to settle your status here, and then Roger has to decide who goes on that expedition next. That’s his decision. I gather Sibirco is very pleased with the work of John Stanwood, and after surviving a crash, everyone’s willing to let you work for anyone you want. You need to send a letter to Sibireco asking to be released from your contract. Once they say yes, you send a copy of it to me requesting to be hired as a field geologist, and attach your resume. I’ll take care of the paperwork. We won’t have any trouble. No one wants unemployed people on Mars.”

“Okay; that’s a plan. I’ll write Sibireco this sol. I think I have a pretty good chance of being assigned to Hellas. I’ve been driving Prospectors for the expedition every sol for the last three weeks; I know their objectives, the lay of the land they’ve already been exploring, and what they’re looking for.”

“You’re in a good position, Helmut. I’ve heard good things about your Prospector work. Have you considered applying for the Gradivus expedition?”

Helmut was surprised. “Ah, no.”

“Why not? You either have the minimum field work that’s required or the Hellas expedition will give it to you, you’ve been to Deimos, and with the lottery decision you’d have a shot at it.”

Helmut laughed. “Okay, I will! Thanks!”

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

Will had been hesitant to go with Skip at first, but Carson had gently insisted. “You have to see the set,” he repeated, as they climbed into a ranger. “I think it’s perfect. Better than Tower Rock.”

“That wouldn’t have been a good choice aesthetically,” agreed Will, trying to avoid the subject. “But Thelma Crater is pretty interesting.”

“You can say that again!” agreed Carson. “You’ll see.” He drove the ranger into the airlock and in a few minutes they were outside. Carson quickly drove west on Mariner Trail eight kilometers, then turned off onto a narrow dirt track. In a few kilometers they came to a mesa-like rise with cliffs. He headed straight into a gap in the cliffs and after a passage of a hundred meters, they entered a big, ruined bowl. “It’s incredible!” said Carson.

“I know; I’ve been here.”

“You have?” He was disappointed. “But I guess this is used for training, isn’t it.”

“It’s got intrusive and extrusive basalt, ash layers, a small dune field, some eroded Hesperian dune deposits, lacustrine sandstone and evaporites, and some spectacular erosion features,” replied Will, listing its advantages.

“Yes, those things make it perfect for Survival: Mars as well. The main character can see everything within walking distance of his habitation.” Skip turned the ranger northward and drove across a flat area of the crater until he approached a hundred-meter boulder lying on the floor. “And look at this thing! A fascinating terrain feature!” He pointed to a natural alcove in the rock. “I’m going to clean up that alcove and put the survival base there. The survivor will have a single greenhouse and two docking cubes. I’m postulating that everything else was destroyed in the crash. He can live in the docking cubes and pile regolith around them for radiation shielding. The greenhouse will provide some food.”

“How much will he have?”

“Plenty, I suppose, but the greenery is for his sanity as much as his stomach.”

Will nodded. “Water?”

“I’m imagining this crash occurs at about 40 south and that Thelma Crater, here, has snow drifts in some of its exterior gullies. I may need to figure out a way to shoot some gullies on location, since there aren’t any nearby.”

There are some east of here in Aram Chaos; we could probably make an expedition there. Energy?”

“He’ll have solar panels.”

“No habitat?”

“I’m assuming it’s destroyed in the crash.”

Will nodded. “And how will you simulate the crash?”

“The Outpost has several tonnes of trash, mostly broken computers and appliances. If we scattered them across the ground they’ll look like a crash. I have volunteers who will help set up a very realistic looking crash site on some weekend.”

“And how will you set up the survival base? That’ll be a lot of work, Skip.”

“That’s what I hoped we could talk about, Will. I need help. I know everyone here is pretty overworked, though, especially after the crash.”

“That has delayed everything. I don’t know of any spare personnel. I suppose people will volunteer their weekends if you pay them.”

“I think I’ll have to do that, and be prepared to pay five hundred to a thousand bucks a sol, too. Labor here isn’t cheap. But what I really need is a regular assistant. I can’t drive a ranger here by myself; I have to have someone with me. That’s regulations. I can get some people to rearrange their schedules so they can work on the weekends and free up time for me during the week, but it’ll be crazy; I can go out Tuessol morning because one person’s available, then Thurssol all afternoon with someone else. It’ll take forever to set up this site that way.”

“And what you really need is someone who can handle a camera, since you have to video the whole thing.”

“Exactly.”

Will thought. “You know, there’s one person who might be able to help you. Brian Stark.”

“Stark?” Carson was surprised. “Why him?”

“He hasn’t found the nuclear science team here a good fit, shall we say. He plans to return to Earth at the end of this columbiad. I think some of his time could be arranged.”

Carson frowned. “A sour person to work with, if there ever was one.”

“Maybe. But he’s of average height, so his spacesuit will look like almost any actor’s, and I doubt he’ll want any recognition as an actor. I think I could persuade him to help you.”

“Then I’ll take him. I need someone, after all.”

“He’ll probably be available twenty-five hours a week, but that may be what you need anyway.”

“It is, because I’m still writing the screen play and storyboarding the action with a colleague in California. I need about twenty hours a week. The Commission has agreed to loan me the equipment in return for a royalty, which I think is a good arrangement for everyone, since I have lower up-front expenses now and I’d like to see the Commission make some money off the film.”

“So would we.”

“I’m sure. This is a big, expensive operation. I don’t have a lot of time left, either. I’m leaving for Earth in eight months.”

“Time flies, doesn’t it? But that should be enough to film most of the outside scenes and other parts that can’t be filmed easily in a sound stage.”

“Exactly. And once the set is ready here, I can send people over to film scenes we need even if I’m on Earth. Before I leave I hope we’ll have someone trained in set design; you all can make a lot of money serving as a remote location for science fiction films. That’s why Stark surprises me. I really want one of the journalists or someone with good camera experience to be involved in this effort, because it’s another export for Mars.”

“Hum.” Will considered that argument. “Let’s start with Stark, but I can see whether someone else can be available as well. Miranda Bytown, for example, is a video journalist and has been a stringer here for the Canadian Broadcasting Service and the BBC. She’d be good.”

“Yes, someone like that.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. She just came off maternity leave a few months ago.”

Carson drove them around the crater, pointing out spots where he planned to shoot various scenes. Then they headed back to the Outpost. When they got back to Joseph Hall, Will said “Thanks for the tour. Even though I’ve been to Thelma a dozen times, this trip made your plans much more concrete. I want a report every week or two, suitable for posting to the entire outpost. That’ll increase your profile here.”

“Good! So, this wasn’t a waste of your time!”

“No, not at all.” Will waved and headed to Yalta Biome.

Right inside the airlock to Yalta was DiPonte’s Store. Will stuck his head in there first; Silvio’s business sense was crucial. But he stopped first at the candy to grab a chocolate bar and scan it. There weren’t any available, so he looked around for Silvio, who was in his office behind the store.

“Silvio, Good Sol.”

“Sorry Will, we’re now out of chocolate.”

“Really? We’re a month short of conjunction, too.”

“That’s right; it’ll be eighteen months before we get a new supply. Demand was much higher than anticipated. But the assistant cook, Deborah Howe, plans to make chocolate in the kitchen on Sunsols. Quality should be pretty good, it’ll be fresh, but the costs will be pretty high.”

“Wow. But I suppose I’ll pay. I didn’t stop to talk about chocolate, though. Skip’s movie plans are really taking shape. He and I just drove out to Thelma Crater, which will be his set. He’s figured out what will go where and where he’ll shoot various scenes. But he needs human resources. I think I can get someone assigned to him half time; maybe two folks. But there are all sorts of legal and financial implications. He needs a legal structure for hiring people part time on their spare time, and I need a contract to supply him with Commission labor.”

“Okay. The contract the Commission signed with him for use of the spare greenhouse specified it did not cover labor, so there needs to be another contract. I’ll draft a contract for him to discuss. And I’ll show him the contracts we have been using for hiring people individually.”

“Excellent.”

“But can we really spare people right now? We’re pretty far behind.”

“I know, but I know of two people who could use this assignment, and since they’re unhappy in their current jobs, they might work harder at it in less time if this opportunity were provided to them. So I have psychological reasons for thinking this will work. I also think this is a really good opportunity we shouldn’t miss. We have a famous movie producer and director on Mars; anything he does here will make money and bring us prestige.”

“Prestige yes, but don’t be so sure about money. I read the contract the Commission signed to provide Skip with equipment; it only calls for a payment of royalties. But these movies often use screwy accounting and they can gross a billon dollars, but on paper they can lose money. I’d specify payments to the Commission of about two hundred bucks per hour for staffing.”

“Alright, do it. Show me the contracts first and let me know what Skip says about them, if anything.”

“Will do.”

Will nodded, waved, and headed for Hab 4 and the inflatable work areas around it, which now housed nuclear science. In a few minutes he was there. He spotted Brian Stark. “Brian, we need to talk right now.”

Stark was surprised. “Oh.”

“Yes. Let’s go into Rosa’s office.” Will led him to Rosa Stroger’s office. She was surprised to see both of them as well. Will closed the door behind the three of them. “I have a proposition,” he began. “Brian needs to get out of this office and do more research on Tower Mesa, and needs a reason to be going out. He also needs a reason not to be working here full time. I may have found it. Skip Carson needs part time assistance on his movie. If Brian helps him, that’ll give Brian a reason to be out of the office.”

Stark looked at him puzzled. “Help with a movie?”

“Yes. You’ll be a star, Brian.”

Stark laughed at the idea. “How much time?” asked Rosa.

“Twenty or twenty-five hours per week. Half time. Carson will pay the Commission for your time, of course.”

Brian didn’t say anything, at first. “What sort of movie is this?”

“Carson plans to film the story of one astronaut who survives a crash; very introspective. He needs help with the set at Thelma Crater. You’ll have access to a ranger just about any time you need it and the excuse to go look for other possible settings for scenes. I don’t know how long; several months.”

“I could use a good excuse to be traveling around the area, but it’s a lot of time.”

“You’re only working here twenty-five hours a week as it is,” replied Rosa. “If no one knows how long you’re supposed to be working here and how long you’re working for Carson, it might give you a lot of freedom.”

Brian nodded. “That makes sense. This is not something I want, but I can see the advantages. When do I start?”

“Any time,” replied Will.

“You owe me, Will,” added Rosa.

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

Greg walked into Shikoku South and looked around. “Don’t you know Suzanne’s flat number?” asked Anna.

“Now I’m not sure. Damn, I wish the buildings had directories.”

“No one has mail boxes or security buzzers,” replied Anna. She pulled her palm-sized attaché from her belt and opened it. In a few swift strokes she pulled up Aurorae Outpost’s housing directory. “Ah, Shikoku South 3C.”

“Thanks.” They started up the steep ramp to the third floor. Apartment C faced the rear of the bubble, not the front. They knocked on the door. A moment later Suzanne Van de Velde opened the door.

“Father Greg, Anna, you are very kind to come visit. Please come in.”

“We feel bad we haven’t been here before,” replied Anna.

“Of course, you’ve seen me at the Patio every sol,” replied Suzanne. “So a visit really isn’t necessary. It’s not like I’m an invalid or a shut-in.”

“No, but we wanted to be sure you were okay,” replied Greg. “And it’s old-fashioned neighborliness.”

“I like old-fashioned neighborliness,” replied Suzanne. She led them into her living room. The flat the Van de Veldes had shared wasn’t very large. The tiny living room had two doors in the back wall, the one on the right leading to the bedroom and bathroom, the one on the left leading to a smaller room that had been an office; the decoration indicated it would be the nursery after the baby was born. In between the doors was a floor to ceiling window that opened onto a two by three meter light shaft; a narrow patio off the master bedroom had some potted plants and a chair. The right hand wall of the living room near the back had a kitchen sink with an ice chest underneath for keeping cold drinks. Next to it was a counter with a hotplate built into the back corner farthest from the sink; beneath was a microwave oven and storage. Greg noticed the kitchenette furniture with a bit of envy, as many people had not obtained the stove/counter unit yet. “Sit down,” Suzanne said, gesturing at the couch. “Let me pull out some Belgian cookies.”

“We brought you a gift,” said Anna, holding up a box of tea. “We know how much you like your varieties of tea.”

“Oh, you are so kind.” Suzanne took it and looked. “Thank you, I don’t have any Chinese green tea. I used up my last bag about six months ago, and Silvio doesn’t have any. Where did you get this?”

“We have our way,” replied Greg, who was known to stock up on little gifts every columbiad.

“Let me put on the water so we can try some,” said Suzanne. “Thank you to both of you, this is really unnecessary.” She filled her kettle and put it on the single burner, then pulled out the cookies. They each took one.

“Very nice,” said Anna, trying one.

“You can’t get them from Silvio,” replied Suzanne. “We buy them from the bakery ourselves every two years. They won’t hold up much longer; we might want to finish them. Guests give me an excuse to have one.” And Suzanne took a cookie as well. She sat to join them.

“How’s the baby?” asked Anna.

“He’s coming along. I’ve got just two months more to wait, now. I would suggest we go eat out on the balcony, but I have to minimize my radiation exposure. He kicks a lot and it’s getting hard to walk. And with all the stress, as you probably know, I’m taking a leave from work; I don’t want to lose him now. So I sit here most of the time, do a bit of office work on my computer, read, watch some television, and wait.”

“How are you feeling?” asked Greg.

She shrugged. “The shock has worn off, at least. Now it’s the long-term, dull pain of loss. Everyone has been very kind, though, and they’re bending over backward to help. That’s been an amazing thing.”

“We’re a pretty close community when there’s tragedy,” agreed Greg. “We can be thankful for that. I hope the baby will help.”

“He’ll be all I have left of Guillaume.” Suzanne sighed. “I guess that will help. But I also feel a bit trapped here because I can’t leave.”

“That must be hard,” said Anna. “And knowing you, I’m sure you wouldn’t put the baby up for adoption.”

“Oh, absolutely not! This boy will be our flesh and blood.” And tears came to Suzanne’s eyes. Anna reached over and put her arm on her shoulder. Suzanne nodded. “Thank you. I really don’t want to leave that badly; I have good friends here, I like the work, and I’m committed to this place. Oh, let me check the water.” She got up and set up three cups for tea, while regaining her composure. She returned with the steaming cups and they all added sugar and tried the tea.

“The perfect complement to the cookies,” said Suzanne. “Thanks again.” She sipped. “I’m thinking of establishing a Guillaume Van De Velde Scholarship in Astronautics.”

“Really?” said Greg. “That sounds like a wonderful tribute.”

“Well, the life insurance is enough to pay off this place completely, and I really don’t need a huge amount to live; I plan to work, after all. It’d be awarded to Belgian citizens who want to become spacecraft pilots, one scholarship per year, roughly equal to half a year’s tuition.”

“That’s very generous,” said Anna. “It was a scholarship like that that got me through university.”

“Really? I hope it’ll be of some help. I want to do something to memorialize Guillaume. He loved Mars.” She sipped her tea and thought. “What I’d really like to do may not be practical. I’d like to see all of us here to start an immigration scholarship to help pay the costs of transportation of new settlers here. It isn’t very practical yet because the costs are still too high, but if they come down to a million dollars or so, and 100 of us each donated $10,000, it would be feasible.”

“And some people would donate more,” said Greg. “Some of the folks who have been here several columbiads, for example. The price is coming down, especially with the new plan for inflatable interplanetary housing that can be reused on the surface. That would be a wonderful tribute to Guillaume, Suzanne. He was so dedicated to this world.”

“He wanted to see a civil society here, also. We need more folks who don’t work for the Commission; businessmen, professionals, artists. But there’s no economic basis for their immigration.”

“I wonder whether we could really do it, though. Surely it would take several years to accumulate enough money,” said Anna. “But on the other hand, maybe we could do it if terrestrial donations were accepted.”

“There are a lot of Mars fans on Earth,” agreed Suzanne. “I was thinking about that. I’ve been tempted to talk to the Mars Exploration Society about the idea.”

“Yes, do it,” agreed Greg. “The more I think about the idea, the more I think it’s fantastic. You should talk to Will at some point. He could get the Commission involved. They’d have good reasons to support it; good publicity.”

“I know.” She wasn’t enthusiastic about the suggestion. “I’ll talk to him about it. Perhaps the three of us could form a committee.”

“Silvio could set up a bank account for donations,” added Anna. “You could run the charity. He’d probably be willing to help, too. He wants more non-Commission folks here as well.”

“He wants teenager workers!” added Greg, laughing. “Or smart robots.”

“Then let’s explore this,” said Suzanne. “If the two of you are willing to help me, I’m willing to give it a try.” She stood up and walked to her bedroom to grab her attaché.

The three of them brainstormed together for three quarters of an hour; what information was needed, who to ask, what the next steps would be. Suzanne became more energetic and enthusiastic as they went. The plan clearly was an important one to her.

Anna and Greg had planned to stay only half an hour and soon had to worry about their schedule. They departed happy as well. “This is a great plan,” said Greg. “It’ll be good for Mars.”

“My concern, now that I think about it, is that most people on Earth would not see this as a charity,” pointed out Anna. “We’re talking about accumulating tens of millions of bucks to fly one person here. I think Suzanne’s other idea—a scholarship—shouldn’t be dropped. I think we should specify that some percentage of the charity should go to scholarships as well.”

“That’s a good point. We should talk to her about that.” He looked at her. “Are you glad I invited you?”

She smiled. “We keep finding ourselves working together, Greg. I can’t get away from you.”

“I’m not complaining.” He smiled, a smile that conveyed affection as well as humor.

HOME PREVIOUS NEXT