4

Changes of Heart

Anna Racan had always been one to rise at dawn, and the new baby had not changed the habit, even if two-month old John didn’t sleep well at night. Having just fed him, and noting that the sky was suddenly brightening—a sure sign the sun was nearing the horizon—she left the baby sleeping on top of Greg, pulled on a stylish nightgown, and walked to the Patio in Yalta to get breakfast for both of them.

The Patio was almost deserted, as it always was when dawn rays stretched across the biome and bounced off the silvery insulating blanket stretched over its western side. That morning the Bahá'ís were gathered around two tables pushed together, and having finished their breakfast just before sunrise, they were praying, an activity that did not seem to offend the other early risers. Anna barely noticed them; they had been there every morning for the last ten days. But then she spotted Tomas seated with them, and that startled her. She stopped to look more closely and could see that he, too, had eaten breakfast before dawn.

She slipped into the cafeteria and quickly filled a plate with breakfast items, then scanned the tray to pay for it and hurried back home to tell Greg, who shrugged.

She worried much more at lunchtime, however, when Tomas didn’t show up to eat. She and Greg were finished with their supper and were about to leave, at sunset, when Tomas arrived.

“Where have you been? We were looking for you,” she said when he reached their table with food, just as the sun was disappearing.

“Oh, I was working late, that’s all.” Tomas sighed. “The new robots can pick only ripe beans; the image recognition software is just not estimating ripeness very well. So I was picking all sol.”

“A major waste of your time,” said Greg.

“Were you fasting this sol?” Anna asked point blank.

“What?” Tomas was surprised and looked a bit guilty as well. “Why do you ask that? Sometimes work forces a change in eating habits.”

“Sometimes it does, but when I arrived here to get breakfast this morning I saw you seated with the Bahá'ís.”

“So? They’re very nice people with a good religion. I decided to try fasting this sol after having breakfast before dawn with them.”

“Why? That’s not a natural thing to do, fasting’s not healthy, and it’s not a Christian custom anyway.”

“It’s perfectly healthy, Anna. I did fine with it, actually. And it isn’t that different from Lent.”

“Except we eat and drink something,” replied Greg.

“I’m just worried,” said Anna. “I don’t want you. . . swayed.”

“Swayed?” Tomas was irritated by that. “It’s my choice what I believe, right?”

“Well, yes, of course, but I’m concerned anyway. Are you interested in Bahá'í?”

“Maybe some.” He was non-committal. Then, after a pause, he decided to speak more boldly. “I’ll put it this way, cousin. How would you compare the two religions. One teaches that Jesus is a member of the trinity, that he saved us from sins, that he created a way of salvation through the church, that his mother was a virgin. The other teaches equality of races and sexes, spiritual solutions to economic questions, a plan for world peace, a world governing system, the importance of education, the need to struggle against racial and other biases. . . which set of teachings do you think is more relevant?”

“Tomas, that’s not a fair comparison!”

“Besides, Bahá'ís can’t offer salvation, and Christians can believe in all the things you list,” said Greg.

“Then why don’t they?”

“And you think the Bahá'ís are perfect?” retorted Greg.

“No, but at least they aren’t a church struggling with some ideas that are five hundred years out of date, pretending everything is fine while the number of priests plummets and the whole institution rots from within.”

“They weren’t around five hundred years ago, and may not be five hundred years from now either.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Greg. They’re growing fast on Earth right now.”

“It’s a temporary growth spurt.”

“Tomas, are you thinking about leaving the church?” asked Anna, upset.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Anna looked at Greg, worried. He looked back at her. “Well, this is a free place, and we’ll love you either way,” Greg finally said. “You’re our only family up here.”

Tomas smiled. “Thank you. Both of you are very important to me and I love you both. I’m sorry if my remarks hurt you.”

“That’s alright,” replied Anna. She leaned over and kissed her cousin, though she still seemed distant and worried.

“How was your sol?” he said to both of them.

Greg shrugged. “Reasonably good. It’s the busy time; usually the hard-core problems adjusting to Mars emerge about four or five months after people arrive. So I have a stream of people seeking help because their marriage is under strain, or their girlfriend just left them, or they’ve realized they can’t make ends meet here with an income of 400,000 euros or a million dollars per year.”

“But at least John’s sleeping better at night,” added Anna, looking at her baby. “That helps.”

“Both of us,” added Greg. He looked at Tomas. “Did you hear the latest news?”

“What?”

“It looks like the House of Representatives will impeach President White.”

Tomas looked delighted. “Good; the U.S. would be better off without the idiot.”

“I agree, but it doesn’t look good when the legislature tries to impeach three of the last six Presidents. Besides, it weakens the government at a time when it has to be strong. That’ll slow economic recovery.”

“They say unemployment in the US has now hit twenty-six percent, and in Europe it’s eighteen,” added Anna. “Not to mention what the depression has does to Latin and African economies, which are so much weaker.”

Their conversation trailed off at that point. Tomas started to wolf down his food; clearly, a sol of fasting had made him hungry. Anna looked at Greg, then rose. “We’ve got to get home and prepare the baby for the night,” she said.

“Okay, see you at breakfast tomorrow,” replied Tomas.

“Bye,” added Greg, standing up. He took John from Anna, and the two of them headed across the patio toward home.

“I’m afraid the church will lose him,” Anna finally said to Greg, once they were out of earshot.

Greg sighed. “Maybe. But remember, it is his choice.”

“Yes, but it would embarrassing to have the cousin of the only Catholic priest on Mars convert to Bahá'í.”

Greg shrugged. “It’s a free world, dear. Let’s have no inquisitions on Mars. It’ll be harder to associate with him, though, since we talk about the church so much.”

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

Will was rubbing his right cheek and jaw delicately when he walked into Ruhullah’s office. The local anesthetic was beginning to wear off and the tooth was beginning to hurt. “Anything new?”

Ruhullah Islami looked up from his desk. “No. Lal called because he was trying to reach you. How was the appointment?”

“This was the worst dental experience I’ve had in twenty years. The cavity was very small, but was in an awkward spot below the gum line and Elsa couldn’t numb it up. She had to give me five shots! And we had to wait between each one to see whether it was working.”

“You were gone a long time.”

“Two hours! Now the morning’s shot! And I’m in a foul mood. Dental visits usually do that. They remind me of my mortality.”

Ruhullah laughed. “Oh, come on, Will. It was just a little cavity.”

Will smiled. “I suppose that’s true. I guess I can catch up this afternoon.”

“Sure. Alexandra was here to give you a report about Dakota Biome, so she gave it to me. They plan to inflate the enclosure next week.”

“Wow! This new simplified approach is working, then.”

“Yes. She seems pleased and Dimitri clearly is happy. I checked the food production schedule; Lisa’s already revising the numbers upward. So we will have better food production.”

“What did Lal want?”

“He didn’t say.” Ruhullah was now in charge of sol-to-sol operations at Aurorae; it freed Will to manage the entire Commission. But the Meridiani Expedition was not his responsibility.

“I’ll call him, then.” Will waved and headed up the stairs to his office on the top floor. He kept rubbing his cheek; it still felt funny from the anesthetic. But at least his mood was improving.

He entered his office and sat. His attaché, as he feared, had half a dozen messages. All of them had to do with the “stretched Shuttle” or “Hermes Model” as they were calling the new design. Engineers at both the Venus-Mercury Commission and the Mars Commission were recommending updates to the engine; they’d cost half a billion euros to make, but the equipment would be easier to maintain and the design margins would be better. Will read to the summary and fired back a few questions. It seemed like an important improvement to make. Another message detailed the advantages of the new six-meter height of the cargo hold. And two companies had completed proposals for an aeroshield that gave better performance and maneuverability. It was hard to believe the first model would be ready for Columbus 9.

Then a flashing icon appeared; a high priority message. He opened it and it was a news flash from one of the media companies Louisa Turner used. A group of six moderate Republicans in the U.S. Senate had struck a deal with President White; they would not support impeachment if he agreed to radical changes in policy and personnel, including replacement of the Secretaries of Defense, State, and Treasury, and the Attorney-General, who were widely viewed as reactionary. Will stared at the screen, surprised. It meant that the conservatives running the government had suffered a severe blow. Just then a videomail from Louisa arrived.

“Will, did you see the news that just came out! President White has decided that survival is more important than principle. Six moderate Republicans in the Senate said they’d vote with the Democrats for impeachment unless he made certain changes, and would vote with the Democrats for the rest of the President’s term if he reneged. One of my sources said there’s a similar group inside the House of Representatives as well, but they hadn’t had the guts of these guys. The polls support them, too; the President’s popularity has fallen to 28%, which means the only folks who like him are his fundamentalist base. Everyone in big business is ready to revolt because of his economic policies and isolationism. As a result, the Republicans risk losing much of their support in the Northeast and Midwest and some in border states, with a Presidential election coming up in a few months. We’re beginning to call our contacts to see whether it’ll make any difference. I’ll call Brian Stark next; he’s very good, as I’m sure you know. He’s had plenty of time floating through space on his way to Venus and has talked to everyone involved in space policy. Let me know if you have specific recommendations. Bye.”

Will immediately hit reply. “Louisa, yes, I just saw the news. Very interesting. I’ll follow it up here. Let’s remind everyone we want cooperation in space. The price of gold won’t stay high forever; we need United States involvement and financial support in the Commission. The Europeans are getting so old they don’t have any money for space; they have to spend it all on pensions and health care! Thank God the Indian and Chinese economies have done relatively well throughout this crisis, but that means the U.S. isn’t balancing their interests in the Commission either. We need the U.S., but without compromising our essential concerns. I’d emphasize that. Bye.”

Will pondered the political change for a moment, wondering whether America would learn anything from electing a political extremist; perhaps people would realize that their democracy wasn’t so infallible after all, and that they needed the rest of the world to prosper. At least he hoped they’d learn.

He sighed and called Lal. The Indian answered right away. “Governor, thanks for returning my call! How are you this sol?”

“Not bad, for someone who just had his tooth drilled without proper anesthetic. You guys are where? Meridiani Oasis?”

“Correct. We stopped last night to set up Meridiani Oasis; we’ll be here two sols to rest, then we’ll clear the trail to the Opportunity landing site, then on to Dawes. We just set up the microwave transceiver this morning so that we can beam our surplus power to Dawes, where they need it right now.”

“So, all is well?”

“Yes. We have a budding romance and I’m afraid it became more public than expected, but they’re dealing with the embarrassment pretty well. I just called to give you a report. In the last three weeks we’ve cleared 1,000 kilometers of trail, a great relief after pushing our way through Aram Chaos so incredibly slowly. We should reach Dawes in 2 months, and in another month after that we’ll have the remaining two oases set up between Dawes and Cassini. But the real excitement is the gold; we now have seven gold finds scattered across Margaritifer and Meridiani, and the quantities aren’t bad.”

“Yes, I’ve been following the reports closely. Your work is going to pay the bills, Lal. I just got another estimate for the Hermes model shuttle, too; expenses are going to be more than we’d like. We’ll open up the entire area to bids in May or June. If there’s enough gold in one spot to support a permanent settlement, we’ll name one, but otherwise the plan is to go after the gold using mobilhabs or temporary surface housing.”

“We’re talking about 1 or 2 million square kilometers of area; that’s worth a lot of money!”

“We hope in the billions! The Meridiani Trail opens up a lot of choice territory. We could stick five or six boroughs in there eventually, all of which will have access to Aurorae Spaceport via the trail. So keep up the good work. It’s proving more important than we had thought. Now, what happened with the couple?”

“Oh. Well, they sneaked into the ranger last night for. . . perhaps we shouldn’t speculate why? They needed. . . privacy. But unfortunately for them the pressure alarm for the connection between the ranger and the conestoga went off. One could speculate that a lot of movement in the ranger jiggled the pressure sleeve loose, but that might be unfair.”

Will laughed. “So much for privacy! And I suppose the alarm woke up everyone?”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh, my. I don’t need to know who they are, but please extend my condolences if they will be comforted by it.”

Lal laughed. “I’m not sure they want it! Have a good sol, Will.”

“You too, Lal. Bye.” Will chuckled as he closed the circuit. They had come a long way from Columbus 1, when a romance between the Commander and Vice Commander had become blown up into a personnel crisis.

He turned back to routine work, reviewing the argument that Cassini needed a third biome, considering the schedule of the next borough meeting and the Mars general election, and approving the text of a proclamation making Equinox—the northern spring equinox, to be exact—a paid holiday. He was wading through the fourth draft of a new policy allowing Martian residents a round trip flight to Earth every ten columbiads—22 years—when his attaché beeped with a videomail from Earth. He was surprised to see it was a call from the Administrator of NASA, Charles Kerns.

“Good sol, Dr. Elliott,” he began, carefully avoiding such titles as “Governor” and “Acting Commissioner” that NASA had rejected in the past. “As you may have heard, we have been reviewing NASA’s ten year plan in the last two months. Argo 1 has been an immense success; they’re closing in on their third near-earth asteroid right now and will land in a few weeks. They’ll be back at Earth in seven months and Argo 2 departs in three months, with a LANTR engine, a bigger supply of fuel, and a more capable fuel manufacturing system. If it manages greater speed and a larger fuel supply, as expected, it should be able to visit four near earth asteroids in thirty months.

“But at that point it makes sense for NASA to turn over exploration of Earth-crossers to others; there are two commercial outfits interested and both the Brazilians and Indians want to mount asteroid missions. So we want to look outward farther, to the asteroid belt and beyond it to Jupiter. A staffed outpost on Callisto could accomplish a hundred times more science in Jovian space than robots controlled from Earth. To get ready for an expedition like that by, say, 2050—only fourteen years away—we have to improve our propulsion systems considerably, increase the lifetime and efficiency of life support systems, and acquire experience in ultra-cold conditions. The Martian poles and the asteroids are key to both of the latter two issues, while nuclear-powered variable specific impulse electric propulsion will solve the first.

“Mars is, therefore, a natural player in the effort. Expeditions to the asteroid belts should be launched from Mars; the delta-vee is much better and the fuel supply at Phobos and Deimos is abundant and relatively inexpensive. We therefore are interested in beginning a negotiation with the Mars Commission about collaboration, with Ceres or Vesta the likely first mission target. I’m sending you an informal videomail first before beginning an exchange of details and actual negotiation about who will do what. We suspect there should be other partners in this effort as well, possibly India or Brazil, maybe even Europe and Russia if the breach with our former allies can be repaired. The cost of the project will be in the tens of billions of dollars and we’d prefer to spread it out.

“I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest possible convenience about this plan. Goodbye.”

Will stared, stunned. Was this the same NASA that had tried to block the Hermes shuttle and collaboration with the Mercury-Venus Commission on everything? That had insisted on a hand-picked American head of the Mars Commission who was unacceptable to everyone else? That had tried to take over Mars operations and install a uranium separation facility that would provide bomb-grade U-235 to American military facilities in Earth orbit? Clearly, major changes were happening in Washington.

Will forwarded the message to Louisa Turner and Pierre Messier, his trusted aide and the acting head of the Commission’s terrestrial operations respectively, and sent the message to Ruhullah as well. Curious, he turned to Astrolabe, their interplanetary navigation system. From Embarcadero, Ceres required a delta-v of 4 kilometers per second, though the Hohmann minimum-energy trajectory required 1.3 years. At Ceres, landing required a delta-v of 2.7 kilometers per second; thus the one-way delta-v was 6.7 kilometers per second, less than from the Martian surface to Earth. A launch opportunity came along every three years; the next one was late 2038, as they had just missed one. Ceres was carbonaceous chondrite, like Phobos and Deimos, and thus would have abundant carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen for life support and propellant; with only thirteen percent as much sunlight as earth, however, nuclear power would probably be essential, even for agriculture.

Ruhullah knocked on his door. “Either they’re trying to trick us, or their position has collapsed.”

“Haven’t you heard the news? Six moderate Republican Senators went to White and said they’d vote for impeachment unless he changed his policies. And he has no choice; they’ll lose the midterm elections big time otherwise. I think Kerns’s activating plans he’s proposed for some time that he thinks will now be approved.”

“Hum. He isn’t one of the extremists. I wouldn’t give them anything unless they stop trying to block us.”

“I agree! They have to cooperate fully or they’re out. We could always work with the Chinese; they consider themselves the world’s second superpower. How does ‘Mars-Asteroid Commission’ sound to you?”

Ruhullah laughed. “Or even Mars-Jupiter Commission!”

“We won’t do that, of course, but I have no intention of being forgetful. It’s still not clear there’s anything profitable in the asteroid belt that isn’t easier to obtain from Earth-crossing asteroids. There’s plenty of good science there, but we don’t have the resources to do good science there.”

“We can barely afford it here!”

“Exactly. But the technologies that are needed for asteroid belt operations would be helpful for us, such as larger habs and five to ten-megawatt deep space reactors with variable specific impulse electric propulsion, and Mars is the obvious port of call for all asteroid missions.”

“How long would asteroidal missions be?”

“Probably three to five years. That means married crew members and maybe eventually children. Another reason to be involved; the technology will help the settlement of Mars.”

Ruhullah nodded. Just then Will’s videophone beeped. “Ah, here’s Pierre’s reaction,” said Will. He pushed the play icon.

Pierre Messier sat behind his desk in his Paris office, and Louisa Turner sat next to him. “Louisa just dashed into my office, interrupting a very important meeting—well, it was with my teenage daughter—to tell me to listen to your call from Kerns,” he said. “We’re flabbergasted.”

“It’s hard to say what to make of it,” added Louisa. “They’re probably serious, at least to the extent that they can get good press from the effort in order to prove to the world that they really aren’t a bunch of closed-minded bigots who have never had a passport and never left the beloved U. S. of A.”

“In other words, she counsels caution,” replied Pierre. “I suggest that we be positive but noncommittal. Send Soderblom; he’s the vice commissioner for government relations. It’s his job.”

“But no publicity; they have to earn it,” said Louisa. “And I’d link this cooperation with a bunch of other matters, like the Hermes shuttle and immediate resolution of the question of who will be Commissioner. Otherwise this can wait.”

“And we have to see the money!” exclaimed Pierre.

The two of them paused. “That’s all we can think of,” Pierre finally said. “Let us know your decision.”

Will turned to Ruhullah. “Sounds like good advice. Soderblom can handle Kerns.”

Ruhullah nodded. “We need more details and a face-to-face negotiation would give us that.”

“Okay.” Will sat at his desk and pulled up the message again. He listened one more time and jotted a few notes. Then he recorded a response to Kerns and blind-copied Messier, Turner, and Soderblom. “Good morning, Administrator Kerns,” he began. “It’s good to hear from you. I think we haven’t spoken in person since 2017 or so, at the Mars Science Conference we both attended. A lot of things have happened in nineteen years, haven’t they? The world has changed dramatically.

“I’ve listened to your videomail very carefully. I’m delighted that cooperation may finally prove possible between our two agencies. As you know, we have always maintained that we welcome everyone to participate in the exploration and settlement of Mars, within the framework of the international treaty that the United States and everyone else has signed. We regret the United States has been unable to participate more fully. One result is that all of us have missed opportunities for exploration and new technology.

“We would love to be involved in exploration of the asteroid belt and can make an important contribution even with our meager resources. We’d also like to see the United States encourage cooperation in many other areas of space exploration, such as the exploration of Mercury and Venus, the Hermes Shuttle, and the very functioning of the Mars Commission. We’d like to hear from you about these matters as well. Krister Soderblom, our Vice Director for Governmental Relations, will contact you. You are free to contact me directly as well. Goodbye.”

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