4

Commissioner

Will stared at the screen in front of him, scrutinizing the yellowish-gray clouds in the Venusian atmosphere. The image was live from Columbus 8 as it flew past Earth’s twin after five and a half months of coasting across space. In a half an hour Venus would be receding from the spacecraft and they would be setting their sights on Earth, 100 days or 97 sols away.

The planet was quite a distraction from his work. He glanced back at the screen of his attaché; he really didn’t want to deal with the latest videomail from Charles Kerns that was awaiting him. It was the only message that morning he hadn’t opened yet. Kerns persisted in trying to shortcut negotiations with Soderblom and talk to Will directly.

Then the perfect alternative occurred to him; he’d videomail Brian Stark and Skip Carson, who no doubt were looking out the window that very moment at the steaming sister world. He pulled up the men’s videomail numbers. “Good sol, Brian and Skip. Can’t help but think of both of you as you look out the window at the solar system’s dazzlingly bright and cloud-wrapped hellhole. And a beautiful hell-world she is, too. What a privilege to be able to see yet another planet; not many humans belong to that club. I’m one of the millions following the encounter on t.v.

“Not much new up here. The Meridiani project has almost reached Dawes. The trail will soon be finished. The bids on tracts of gold-bearing lands are due tomorrow and we already have some very promising submissions. You guys won’t recognize Aurorae if you ever can come back; two biomes have opened since your departure. The excitement over the elections has finally died down; it only took five weeks! Ruhullah is doing a good job and the Americans have refrained from attacking the election of a Muslim, fortunately. We’ll see how everything goes at the Commission Board’s meeting in five days. I’m invited to attend a few of the sessions by videophone, which appears to be quite a concession.

“Tell me what the flyby was like when you can. Bye.”

He sent the message, felling dissatisfied that the delay in his duty had been so brief. So he videomailed David Alaoui as well.

“Good sol, David! I’m watching Columbus 8’s flyby and I can’t help but think about what’s crossing your mind, since you looked down on those clouds for sixteen months. She’s a beautiful world, my friend; I wonder when humans will walk on the surface, if ever. You all managed a brilliant telepresence, and the telerobotic rovers you have there now are really robust. I’m amazed to think there’s one working on the surface over a year, after driving 200 kilometers. The sample return systems keep getting more capable as well.

“Thanks again for thinking of us in planning the Venus-Mercury expedition that just left Gateway. The seventy tonnes of supplies we’re shipping here will really be useful; you can never predict perfectly what you need for twenty-six months and consequently there’s always something that runs out. I’m told we’re out of perfume and condoms, for example; I’m not sure what that says about Mars! I’ll be watching trans-Venus injection in two days, and the Hermes shuttle will be in my prayers. I’m sure it’ll arrive safely, but I’ll worry about it every step of the way anyway.

“Give me a holler when you can. Ethel and the kids are well; Marshall insists that I take him outside every weekend now, and is begging me to change the regulation so that twelve year olds can go out alone. That’s planning ahead; he won’t be twelve for another eight months! He is already thinking too much like a teenager, Daoud. I may need your advice about that soon.

“Well, I had better stop procrastinating and turn to my real work. Bye.”

Will sent the message to Earth, though David would be at home with his wife by now; it was 7 p.m. in Paris at the moment. With a sigh he turned to the videomail from Kerns and pressed “play.”

“Good day, Dr. Elliott. I thought I should send a clarification of the request I discussed with Krister earlier today. The proposed Phobos nuclear reservation around the crater Roche need not occupy half of that moon’s surface. We could cut it back quite a bit, to perhaps a hundred square kilometers. As you know, a man with a jet pack can travel a long way on Phobos pretty quickly, and your facilities near D’Arrest aren’t that far away. Security is not an easy thing to maintain under those circumstances. We need a buffer around any nuclear facility. The south polar station could be even smaller, since it will be thousands of kilometers from any habitation. I hope that clarification helps. Bye.”

Phobos had 1,600 square kilometers, so a reduction of the nuclear reservation to 100 square kilometers was quite a “concession”; but it was a concession no one wanted, because no one wanted to give the Americans any of the moonlet at all.

Irritated, Will hit reply. “Good day, Dr. Kerns. Yes, Krister gave me a summary of the meeting. Perhaps he did not reiterate clearly enough that our population up here will not tolerate a military base in Mars orbit, especially one whose purpose is unclear to us. I’m surprised you can’t even let us know what you plan to do with the reservation.

“As we have suggested, a far more feasible plan would be an American nuclear research facility here, a dozen kilometers away at Tower Mesa, with a suitable security perimeter around it. You’ll have better security, your people will be able to live more comfortably here at Aurorae or nearby, and the residents will feel better about the facility because they’ll be able to mix with its personnel. As for the south pole, there is no need at all for security there, so we can’t bend the Mars Commission treaty on that grounds, and we cannot think of reasonable grounds under which we can lease territory to the United States.

“I hope that clarifies our position, though I would have thought it was clear already. It’s good talk anyway, Mr. Kerns. Bye bye.”

He sent the message and stared at the t.v. screen, which showed Venus racing by incredibly close to the camera; Columbus 8 was skimming less than a hundred kilometers above the atmosphere. He could even see a very slight shrinkage of the clouds; they had passed Venus. No doubt Brian and Skip would send a reply in a few minutes, and David would reply as well. And within hours he would be dealing with Kerns as well; the negotiations, already six weeks old, had progressed little.

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

The last two hundred kilometers of the Meridiani Trail were completed in two very long and tiring days. There was no reason for the geological team to go out on an expedition when they were that close to Dawes; the area had already been explored. The construction team had completed the last oasis seven hundred kilometers west of the outpost and their vehicles were available for road clearing as well. Finally, Dawes already had a network of dirt tracks around it. So the six large vehicles of the Meridiani Project all took up positions along the last two hundred kilometers and began to widen and straighten an existing trail. An hour after sunset the last conestoga—driven by Helmut—hurried down the new trail and pulled up to the complex of vehicles. They docked to a side airlock of one of the conestogas and walked through the vehicles to the one attached to an airlock that led inside Dawes.

When Johnny Lind—who had been back from Aurorae Outpost for a month—Helmut, Tanya, and Zakaria stepped inside Dawes’s main biome, it was like stepping into Eden. They went from five months of life in a series of large cans into a humid, palm-lined, tropical garden. The biome had two buildings on the north and south sides, as was typical on Mars, with a yard in between. The buildings were covered by vines; the yard was filled with orange, grapefruit, lemon, mango, and coconut trees. At the far end was the outpost’s “Patio,” which, like Aurorae’s, was covered by tables. They crossed the yard and everyone saw them and stopped talking. They started to applaud, much to the arrivals’ surprise.

“This is the last group,” said Lal. “They’re applauding for all of us, not just for you.”

“And because it means we can start eating,” quipped someone. The buffet table was piled high and had not yet been touched.

“Let’s start eating, then,” said Feodor Velikovsky, the boss of the Sibireco operation at Dawes and Commander of the Outpost, as well as Clerk of the Borough. “Guests first, please!”

The Meridiani expedition’s twenty-four members—who outnumbered Dawes’s permanent residents—headed for the buffet table. Helmut spotted Clara, who was holding back, rather than rush into the food line. He walked over to her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He had spoken matter-of-factly; she had replied romantically. “It’s good to see you again. How was O’Keefe Crater?”

“Interesting. No gold, but some evaporite deposits and a network of young runoff channels, though they have no snow at their heads.”

“That’s pretty rare at the equator.”

“How have you managed, over the last fifteen sols?”

“Pretty well. So, you’ve been counting.” She smiled.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” She looked around to see what everyone was doing. Helmut leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Well, I’ve taken care of our accommodation,” she continued.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got a small apartment together; bedroom, tiny living room, and private bath.”

“How’d you arrange that?”

She smiled. “I’m quartermaster, remember? Dawes has room for fifty people so that it can serve as a base of operations for expeditions, but it has eighteen residents. There are a lot of empty flats.”

“How nice. And we’re here seven days at least.”

“Ten, if we all don’t get bored,” she added.

“Well, you and I won’t.”

“No.”

He pecked her on the cheek again and they walked to the buffet table together. Then they sat at the end of a long table that had half the forty-two people present. Lal Shankaraman and Feodor Veikovsky sat together near the middle, where they could talk. Most of the way through the main course and the small talk, Feodor asked the billion-dollar question. “So, Lal, how much gold are we talking about?”

Lal smiled, knowing that the reports had all been filed, since the gold-bearing zone had been explored over a month ago. “The reports don’t exaggerate. I wish we had more neutron activation results, but I think richer data won’t change the picture much. The eight main gold bearing zones will at least equal Dawes.”

“A billion troy ounces,” said Velikovsky, letting the “l”s of “billion” roll off his tongue. “But the zones are fairly far from each other.”

“Mostly. Are you looking for a site for an outpost?”

“I’d love to hear your ideas.”

“Well, there’s one obvious place for an outpost, in my opinion. Ashanti is a long, thin auriferous zone, and Deadwood is north of its middle. Beyond Deadwood is Tanana. The three zones hold 300 million, 140 million, and 40 million respectively; almost half the total reserves. An outpost near the middle of Ashanti and close to Deadwood would give easy access to gold bearing deposits in three directions.”

“Perfect for three companies.”

“Exactly.”

Velikovsky paused to think about the matter. “There’s the question of whether the three of us should be competitors or partners. If the Commission goes for the highest bidder, someone will get all of one deposit and someone else all of another and a joint outpost will be impossible. But cooperating could look like price setting.”

“It’s a problem,” agreed Lal. “I was thinking of talking to Will. The geography of the area, otherwise, requires mobilhabs and mobile harvesting teams, or several separate outposts. Maybe that’s okay, but it won’t be as safe as a centrally located outpost with a clinic and rescue facilities.”

“I suppose I’d favor a joint effort to settle the area. If it were practical, I’d prefer Dawes providing the support facilities, but it’s too far. I’m not sure three smaller outposts is a huge problem, either. But from what you say, a central location’s possible.” He sighed. “All of our companies are flush with cash right now; our profits are large and our stock price has gone through the roof. But all of them are diversifying and buying up assets, and they’re all investing heavily in supercritical carbon dioxide extraction. I don’t think any of the three want to pour a billion euros into Martian mineral rights. Gold exports, realistically, can’t go up much more without affecting the price.”

“That’s my feeling as well, as a millionaire investor in all three.”

Feodor smiled. “You, and everyone else on Mars. All three companies have more equipment on the way on tomorrow’s launch via Venus, but not more people. But I suspect we can hire more Commission personnel, if Will agrees to let them go.” He looked around. “I think it’s time to start the festivities.”

Lal nodded. Feodor rose and banged on his glass. “Everyone prepare for the toasts,” he announced. “It’s Satursol, and no one will be working tomorrow anyway, so let’s enjoy this occasion.”

Several people jumped up from the tables to fetch the wine bottles; there were two dozen of them chilling near the buffet table. Lal smiled. “Russian hospitality.”

“I regret we don’t have vodka. This is half my supply of alcohol; that’s how important this event is to Dawes.”

Lal poured himself a glass, wondering what he would offer as a toast next. Feodor watched the glasses fill, then raised his glass.

“To our friends on the Meridiani Expedition. For five and a half months they’ve dug, pushed, and blasted a dirt trail down erosion channels, across Aram Chaos, over crater rims, up broken cliffs, through dune fields, and across desolate stonefields. In the process they’ve made accessible eight gold fields. They’ve installed six oases, all of which can receive microwave power from Phobos. We now have 5,000 kilometers of the finest road on the planet. Robotic vehicles can now get here from Aurorae in half a week, rather than a week. When they improve the road to Cassini over the next two months, we’ll be able to get there in a sol and a half. Furthermore, vehicles will no longer need nuclear reactors to supply their fuel, freeing the nukes for other uses. It’s a great, historic sol in Dawes because of them.”

“Here here,” exclaimed someone. They all raised their glasses and drank.

Then Lal rose. “Thank you, Feodor, for your kind words. We are all immensely grateful for your hospitality. We’re staying here in your beautiful tropical home for a week to rest and do some routine maintenance, then we’re off to widen Cassini-Dawes and install two oases. This experience has been historic for all of Mars; we’ve learned how to upgrade the planet’s trail system fairly cheaply. Some of us will be back here in a few months to do further work on Dawes’s physical plant, too. So we’re honored to offer you this toast.” He reached down to pick up his glass. “To the hard-working, generous people of Dawes. May they build a beautiful outpost with a great future and bring this world the resources it needs to prosper.”

“Here, here!” And they drank.

Johnny Lind rose. “To gold, and the new trail of gold!” They drank to that as well. Helmut was irritated by that proposal, though, and stood with his glass in hand. “To exploration!” He said, and everyone drank to it as well.

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

Will looked at the clock nervously. He had sent his videotaped report about the condition of the Mars Commission eight hours earlier. The first meeting of the national representatives to occur in a year and a quarter was nearing an end. The agenda included many important topics: the size and composition of Columbus 9, the continued use of the Venus route for cargo and even people, involvement in Project Odyssey, the American requests for “reservations” at the south pole and on Phobos, reconstruction of the Commission’s headquarters in Houston, moving the headquarters to Paris—which contradicted the other topic—involvement in the Hermes-model shuttle, continued development of the annex for interplanetary transportation, and the small matter of who would serve as Commissioner.

For the last year, Will had been the main force in all of them. Now he was forced to sit on the sidelines, and would soon have to pass the torch to someone else. His eight hours of inaction made him realize how much he had loved the job of Commissioner. Of course, there was still a lot to do on Mars itself, and as Vice Commissioner he would still have a lot of weight. He thought of all the tasks that still needed to be done on Mars, especially around Aurorae. The outpost was now large enough to have an auditorium and theatre. The Dacha needed expansion. The system of oases needed to be expanded so that more of Mars was accessible without a reactor. They had found two geothermal fields on Mars; both needed to be exploited, with the energy fed into a global system via a microwave transceiver on Phobos.

He checked the status of the Venus Mission one more time. An hour earlier an ITV with six crewmembers and a Lifter bound for Venus, a Hermes shuttle and an ITV bound for Mercury, an ion tug bound for Mercury, and a Lifter with four twenty-tonne automated cargo vehicles bound for Mars, had fired their engines and headed for Venus. It had gone well. The cargo would reach Mars in thirteen months.

His attaché beeped with a video message from Earth. It was Pierre Messier. He eagerly pressed play.

“Good afternoon, Will, here as well as there. The national representatives ended their meeting here about half an hour ago and I just got a call from Victoria Colville, the French representative. She said she regretted that you had not been invited and wished me to convey her greetings as well as the following summary. Louisa, by the way, is speaking to the Canadian representative at this very instant and will come join me when she finishes.

“Victoria said they began their meeting by thanking Douglas Morgan, who was present. He’s legally blind, gets around with an assistant, and uses a cane as well; his health will never recover. There was a short video tribute to him and everyone rose to speak of his important contributions. He thanked everyone for a marvelous eight years of service and for the kind offer that he continue serving as Commissioner—that came as a surprise to most of the reps present—and he declined.

“After he left, the agenda turned to simple items that had been approved without a meeting over the last year. Everything was approved unanimously: the extra money for Houston employees so that they could recover from the nuclear explosion, the last-minute changes to Columbus 8 because American nuclear engines weren’t available, the Venus cargo mission, the Hermes shuttle, the new year-long family leave policy, the free return to Mars after nine columbiads, the plans for Columbus 9, the further development of the annex.

“They had a very long and friendly lunch, partly to build the good will to tackle harder subjects. They quickly agreed to postpone discussion of Project Odyssey when it became clear the U.S. had no allies in its push for land on Mars or Phobos. The question of who to appoint as Commissioner proceeded as if there had been no negotiations at all for the last year. The Europeans insisted on Karl Fischer, the candidate they’ve had in mind all along; his experience running LeMonnier Station for the last decade makes him a strong candidate. But comments he made about the Americans last summer were extremely negative, so the Americans refuse to consider him. They countered with Jerry McCord, another strong candidate, but he’s been in retirement since Columbus 3 and has become pretty conservative politically, which means anti-international. The Europeans reminded the Americans they had agreed the next Commissioner would be a European, to which the Americans replied that if they were going to invest a lot of money in repairing the Houston headquarters, they should get another term running the show.

“At that point the Canadians nominated Pete Theodoulos as a compromise candidate; he’s been to Mars, he’s a North American, though from the wrong side of the border, and with his acquisition of Greek citizenship last year, he’s now European as well. But no one bought that argument, claiming he was too young. The French then proposed David Alaoui, the second human to walk on Mars; I doubt they asked David first, by the way, because he loves running the Venus-Mercury Commission. The Americans said no, probably because he’s French, Arab, and a Muslim, though they would never say that. I think the suggestion was made both for French pride and to embarrass the Americans. So Victoria replied by nominating you; she said you were an American in whom the Europeans had confidence and you had an excellent record as well as the trust of everyone ‘up there.’ The Americans replied that you were not under consideration. The Chinese, Indians, and Brazilians all gave speeches about being inclusive and international and how they had increased their support for Mars; indeed, their share of Columbus 8 was higher than any other mission, while the number of Americans on board was the smallest percentage ever.

“By then it was almost 5 p.m. Most likely there will be a vote tomorrow, after which the differences will be papered over. It sounds like the Europeans plan to lobby all night.”

Louisa had arrived near the end. She nodded about the last point. “The Canadians want to push Theodoulos hard, but will probably support an American in the end. I told them to support you, Will! They are concerned about Project Odyssey; if the Americans get the Commissionership, they probably won’t get the reservations on Mars and Phobos that they want, and vice-versa.”

“That’s our report from this end,” said Pierre. “Let us know what you think. Bye.”

Will immediately hit reply. “Thanks to both of you. I know both Fischer and McCord and as far as I know, we can work with both of them reasonably well. So I see no reason why we should inject ourselves into the question of who becomes Commissioner. I just hope the matter is settled soon. As for the American request for reservations around a South Polar station and a Phobos station, we must uphold the Mars Treaty, which says that all facilities on Mars or in Mars space are under the Commission’s jurisdiction. The residents up here feel strongly about that point, too. I could see a partial exception made if we were talking about the issue of security around a facility with special technology, such as a uranium separation facility or a nuclear reactor. Otherwise, I can’t see a way to make the American request work. Bye.”

Will sent the message and wondered about the situation. The thought of allowing a national station on Mars, separate from the existing outposts, was anathema; it might destroy the dream, so strong among Mars’s tiny population, that they were the founders of a new nation that would embrace an entire planet. They were Marsians, not Aureans or Dawseans or Cassinians.

Fortunately it was now 5:30 p.m. at the Outpost and he could stop his work a bit early. He went to find the kids, who usually were at home or in either Riviera or Yalta playing. He spent some time with them, then went to supper. After supper they all hurried to Kim and Ananda’s flat for a Bahá'í meeting. Tomas had been bringing a series of acquaintances to hear about the Faith; that night Robert Wairimu, a Kenyan repair specialist, asked questions about the relationship of the Faith to Christianity. The steady stream of inquirers over the last few months had been quite exciting, and the meeting continued until almost midnight.

Will slept poorly that night, worrying about what would happen in Paris. As soon as he rose he activated his attaché. It had a message waiting for him from Kerns.

“Good sol, Dr. Elliott. As you may have heard, the debate about the new Commissioner continues, and you are under consideration. We may be in the position to support your candidacy, also, but we need some clarification of your positions. Is there any possibility you might support our request for a reservation on Phobos and at the Martian south pole? The treaty is not necessarily as absolute as some have argued. Please let us know what your thoughts on this matter are. Thank you, and good luck. Good bye.”

Ethel bolted upright in bed as the last words came from his mouth. “The political snake!”

“They all are,” agreed Will. “They’d sell their mother for short-term gain, I think. It’s quite sad.”

“Are you going to tell him off?”

Will thought. “No. I wish there were an easy way to compromise on non-essentials and remain absolutely faithful to ethical and moral—and legal!—principles. It’s hard to know what to do.”

“So are you going to compromise?” She sounded horrified.

“No. I’m going to think about it a bit.”

He went in to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and shaved. He climbed into the shower and felt the warm water flow over his naked body, relaxing him, helping him think simply and clearly. Ideas began to come together and they gradually took shape into a logical pattern. He dried himself off, dressed, put on a tie and sprayed cologne on him.

“They won’t smell that over the video!” said Ethel, surprised.

“I know. This is my last sol as Commissioner and I plan to look the part. And enjoy it, also.”

“Sounds like you plan to tell him off. My Scottish Presbyterian grandmother would not approve.”

“Nor would `Abdu'l-Bahá; nor would it be professional of the Commissioner, either.” He sat in front of the attaché and pulled up Kerns’s message, which he listened to one more time. Then he hit reply. “Good sol, Mr. Kerns, Acting Commissioner Elliott here. Thank you for your message, which suggests that perhaps we have not communicated as clearly as we could. Over the last year I have striven to accomplish my work based on several principles: fairness to all; forgiveness of others when they have tried to hurt me; inclusiveness, leaving no one out of this great enterprise of exploring and settling Mars who has been willing to participate according to the rules; and fidelity to the unity of this planet, which is both a principle of the Mars Commission Treaty and an element of faith to our population here. Regardless of the role I play in the Commission tomorrow, those are the principles I will follow.

“The principle of unity of the planet completely precludes the possibility of an American station at the south pole. Such a station, as I understand it, would be established for objectives that are scientific and engineering in nature. No national security would be involved. Therefore, there is no justification for a separate facility.

“The proposal for a facility on Phobos is considerably more ambiguous because its purpose has never been stated. National security could justify a small security jurisdiction around a station engaged in certain activities, such as running a reactor to make plutonium and other isotopes for sale to the moon or for use in deep space vehicles. I have stated that to you on previous occasions and reiterate it again. The purpose of such a station must be clearly stated if a security zone around it is to be justified.

“But I favor another solution to your apparent need for a secure facility, one that offers you a lot of advantages and maximizes the cooperation and understanding of the Marsian population. It is this: a small secure facility near Aurorae Outpost and within Aurorae Borough. Phobos has no gravity and there is still no easy way to build a gravitied rotating facility on the moon. Embarcadero is too far away. A rotating station orbiting the moon will expose inhabitants to a lot of radiation over time, and they will be isolated. The solution is to put your facility five or ten kilometers from Aurorae Outpost. Your people will have the benefit of living in Mars’s largest settlement. They will know the local people and vice versa. We will be in the position to give you the maximum amount of assistance in terms of construction and emergency backup. If you have your own shuttle, it can use our spaceport; or if you have your own pilots, they can lease our shuttles. Your people will vote in our elections and eat our steak. If your facility makes surplus power, it will have the largest power market on Mars readily available to it. But security should not be hard to maintain; anyone approaching your facility will be in a spacesuit or a vehicle.

“So what is the problem? Isolation is not to your advantage and does not really increase your security significantly. Rather, it breeds mistrust. Let’s maximize trust, keep the Mars Treaty intact, and foster exploration of the solar system. That’s what I offer you. Good bye.”

Will sent the message. Ethel was beaming. “I’m proud of you.” She leaned over and kissed him. He kissed her back.

“Thank you, because in the real world, principle rarely wins.”

“No, it doesn’t, I’m afraid.” She pointed to the door. “Meanwhile, your children have gone to the Patio by themselves for breakfast.”

“I’m on my way.”

Will went to the Patio and had breakfast, everyone complimenting him on his dashing appearance; ties were worn on Mars for weddings and funerals, and sometimes for church services. He took the kids to school, then went to his office, where there were reports to read and instructions to give. He stopped in Ruhullah’s office to get a briefing from him about the situation on Mars; after that sol, he would be back to running Mars itself, and Ruhullah’s duties would diminish considerably.

He was about to go to lunch when he suddenly got a call from Louisa. “The European representatives just came out of the meeting and they’re aghast that you offered the Americans a security reservation! Apparently the vote was going against the Americans 15 to 1 on everything and they proposed a compromise based on your offer to them. Everyone’s taking a break for lunch to think about it! Let me know what you said and what to do, if anything. Bye.”

Will searched his videomail outbox and found the message he had sent to Kerns. He forwarded it to Louisa Turner and added a post script. “Louisa, here’s exactly what I said to Kerns this morning. The Mars Treaty specifies that sovereignty over Mars and Mars space—that is, a sphere defined by the Mars-solar Lagrange 1 and 2 points—does not belong to any terrestrial nation, but is possessed in common and administered through the Mars Commission and any arrangements it makes. The chapter is vague because there was already an effort by us to establish an outpost government, and it acknowledged the possibility that some day there would be a civil government over much if not all of Mars. But this means a loophole exists for other arrangements. If someone wanted to give Mars a special, high-tech, low-mass nuclear reactor we would be grateful, but naturally we would be sensitive to concerns that the design was a national secret.

“Consequently, I would favor granting the Americans or anyone else a security zone around any special facility engaged in activities that benefit Mars and require special security. I would not favor such a zone if it did not benefit Mars or if the work is not of the sort requiring security. Hence I reject the call for an American south polar station. And I advised that any secure facility should not be on Phobos, but right outside Aurorae, within the Borough boundaries, where the workers can participate in Martian civil activities.

“My guess is that the Americans want to build a uranium processing facility to extract U-235 and U-234. Possibly they want to build a reactor to convert the uranium into plutonium and other isotopes. Perhaps they want to revive Star Wars and obtain the uranium for it from Mars. If that is the case, I would advise everyone to fight the Star Wars project; it is a waste of money in a world moving toward integration. But don’t fight nuclear power on Mars, please. I don’t want us to become an all-nuclear world, but remember we don’t have coal and petroleum up here, solar energy is less than half as strong as at Earth, wind power is diffuse, and we have not yet exploited any geothermal power. We need reactors for mobile exploration and for polar facilities in particular, but they provide an essential minimum level of power for dust storms as well. Put the nuclear power where it is needed—at the outposts.

“Let me know if you need further information. Bye.”

And the message went to Earth at the speed of light while Will went to the Patio for lunch with his family. He wasn’t going to worry about terrestrial greens and their fear on behalf of Mars’s population of nuclear power, or paranoia over laser beams in earth orbit. Mars had a bit over 200 human beings and was planning for its growth to over 300. It was building toward a great future.

After lunch he went back to his office and worked. Lal called and explained the various possibilities for dividing up the gold-bearing zones. The Meridiani Trail stretched over a thousand kilometers through gold-bearing areas; a typical borough was 15 degrees of latitude by 15 degrees of longitude, or 875 kilometers wide at the equator. One could lay out two boroughs or one; indeed, since some of the gold was north of the equator and some south, one could lay out four boroughs. Or one could project four future boroughs and for now create fewer. One could also extend the jurisdiction of Dawes or Aurorae over all or part of the area. Finally, even if one defined one borough, one could define more than one outpost within the borough.

Will never turned down a chance to define the future. He called the heads of all three of the mining company operations and asked them to serve on a committee to resolve the matter, along with himself, Lal Shankaraman, and Érico Lopes. Feodor Velikovsky volunteered that they meet at Dawes and possibly travel together to some of the sites to make decisions. It took all afternoon, but in the end they had a timetable to make a decision about the Meridiani gold fields, which meant they had a date for starting the gold recovery effort as well.

The sun was dropping low over the outpost and it was almost time to go have supper when the message light on Will’s attaché began to blink urgently. It was an important transmission. With a sigh, he pushed the activate icon to hear the news from Pierre and Louisa.

“Will, they picked you!” Pierre exclaimed. “The meeting just broke up five minutes ago! Apparently it was a pretty fierce, bruising fight. The Americans were going to lose it all, but they showed a willingness to compromise and some humility in their looming defeat, and they nominated you themselves. The French came around first, and that was the beginning of the momentum. There is one catch: from now on the position of Commissioner will be for a five-year term, renewable once.

“They’ve agreed to no facility on Phobos or the Martian south pole, but they do want a facility near Aurorae, Cassini, or Dawes; that was their compromise. They have disclosed that the purpose of the facility will indeed be to separate uranium isotopes by centrifuge and to make isotopes in a special breeder reactor. The use of the fuel will be non-military. That’s been approved by the national representatives, too.”

“There’s a press conference scheduled for five minutes,” added Louisa. “They plan to announce their choice as Commissioner. You need to prepare a statement right away.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Commissioner!” added Pierre.

Will stared at the screen, stunned with surprise and tingling with excitement. He reached to touch the reply icon, then paused to compose himself. Finally, ready, he hit reply. “I don’t know what to say right now; I’m in shock. I better go find Ethel and make sure this is reality! I’ll listen for the press conference, then have a statement ready. Bye.”

He sent the message, then grabbed his attaché, clipped it to his belt, and headed for Yalta. Ethel would soon be there to meet him and the children. As usual, he got there a bit before she—she tended to stay at work as long as possible—but she appeared a minute after he arrived. He hurried over. “Ethel, the national representatives have appointed me to a five-year term as Commissioner!”

“Five years? That’s new. But congratulations, I’m thrilled!”

“So am I, of course!”

“Of course!” she hugged and kissed him.

“What is it, daddy?” asked Marshall, who heard some of what Will had said.

“I just heard that I’m going to be appointed head of the Mars Commission. But it’s a secret until they make an announcement in Paris.”

“And that’s it right there!” added Ethel, pointing to the big screen behind the stage, where they usually had a news channel playing during meals. The scene had shifted to a press conference where 15 national representatives were filing onto a stage.

Victoria Colville, representing the host nation, stepped forward and made the announcement. The Patio fell completely silent as she spoke, and when she announced Will Elliott’s name everyone erupted in applause.

They looked around and saw him with his family as well. “Come on, Will!” shouted Roger Anderson. “Let’s hear from you! Speech! Speech!”

“I think you’ll be making your acceptance sooner than expected,” commented Ethel.

“I guess so, but this is the best place to do it.” Will walked forward to the stage. Behind him, the news conference was still going on, but no one could hear it. “I hope the people in Mars Control see this and transmit it to Earth,” Will said. “I’m sure they will. My first reaction when I heard the news was shock that I had been selected to be Commissioner for the next five years. My second reaction, when I saw all of you smiling and applauding, was deep humility and a sense of calling to give this position my best. It will not be easy to run a two-planet operation from the smaller, more isolated side. But it is also the more important side; the Mars Commission exists for the sake of Mars, after all. With patience and by keeping our eyes on the ultimate goal—exploring and settling Mars—we can make a two-planet operation function as one.

“The next five years will see some pivotal developments. Every five-year period has been important, but we are on the threshold of some particularly important opportunities. The outcome will determine a very important variable: the speed at which Mars is settled. Columbus 9 will have one hundred passengers. If we want to see Columbus 10 grow by a further quarter or even a third, we will need to institute new technology to make transportation both more efficient and cheaper. We also need to create an economic revolution whereby Mars can profitably employ an ever-growing workforce. These are not trivial challenges. They will require costly investments and the dedicated effort of governments, friends, consultants, and employees. The result will be the emergence of a two-planet civilization, a major step forward for humanity. It is that goal to which I dedicate myself.”

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