1

Settlers

The wall screen in Mars Control showed a schematic of the automated cargo vehicle or ACV heading toward a large circle representing Mars. But more important that the simple diagram was the lengthy readout next to the schematic. The solar panels were still stuck.

“Can we try again?” asked Will.

Rostam hesitated. “Maybe one more time. We have twenty minutes before encountering the atmosphere. But the mechanism’s not reliable, and that means we could get a partial retraction only. That would be worse.”

Will considered. “You’d recommend jettisoning the panels?”

Rostam nodded. “We have a shuttle in place to rescue the ACV before its fuel cells die.”

“We can’t afford to lose that ACV, and aerobraking with the panels is problematic.” Will bowed to the inevitable. “Jettison them.”

Rostam nodded. That was the recommended procedure. He and the two others in the control room initiated the procedure. A few minutes later the screen showed separation. “They’re jettisoned.”

“Let’s check the video.”

Rostam nodded. They switched on the ACV’s camera system, even though it used precious power. They could see the solar panels spinning away.

“It’s a shame, but what can you do,” said Will. He glanced at the screen; atmospheric encounter was sixteen minutes. “I’m going to the conference room to make a call or two. Shout if there’s trouble.”

Rostam nodded. Will walked across the hall with his attaché. The ACV otherwise was oriented and ready for aerobraking; the solar panels had been the sole problem. It was the first major glitch they had had with the ACVs in six years. No doubt they could find the smashed and burned pieces of array scattered across the desert north of the Outpost if they bothered to go look. They could now make solar panels, so they could build a functioning substitute.

Will sat at the conference table and checked his electronic mail. He was expecting a message from Louisa Turner, Director of the Mars Commission’s Public Relations. Sure enough, she had sent a videomail with an attached schedule of publicity themes: a series of related themes delivering a consistent message helped keep Mars in the public eye. They often weren’t able to follow the plan, but in normal situations it helped enormously.

He approved the schedule for the next two months and then spotted a videomail from his friend Sebastian Langlais. There was still time to listen, so he hit play.

“Good sol, Will. I hope all is well with you. I’m still at Shackleton, but will be returning to Houston next week. We’re finally recovering from the depression; tourism is almost back to the same level it was two years ago. The painful restructuring has also cut costs in half, so people can make a two-week trip to the moon for 2.5 million new dollars. It helps having Hilton and Marriott here to compete for business, and competition between United Spacelines and Lufthansa Space Express providing transport from Earth orbit. You would not recognize the flight to the moon any more, Will. It’s amazing how much progress has happened in twenty years.

“So I think I can now leave the Lunar Commission in good hands, whatever hands they will be. I’ll be announcing my retirement in Houston; maybe you’ve already heard the rumor. My plan is to retire to where my family is, and that’s Aurorae Outpost. Maybe you’ve heard that Helmut and Clara are expecting a child in six months. My other son, Kristoff, is in low Earth orbit right now and has applied to work for the Mars Commission, with the goal of coming to Mars eventually as well. I thought I’d tell you of my plans and I was wondering what you think; I used to run the place, after all, and I’m concerned that my presence might be difficult in some way. I’m not planning to run for office or anything; I’ll probably be a grandfather. Who knows how long I’ll stay; maybe the boys will both go farther out and leave me behind with the grandchildren; or maybe they’ll take the kids along and I’ll fly back to Earth!

“Hope all is well with you and the family. Looking forward to hearing from you. Bye.”

Will glanced at his watch; no time to reply. The selection process was run by an independent task force over which he had no direct influence. There was a very good chance Sebastian would be selected, also, because of his experience and tenure in spaceflight, both of which were given a weight. Will forwarded the message to David Wright, who was in charge of the selection process, then headed across the hall.

The ACV was just seconds above the atmosphere. There was even an image of it from the Outpost’s telescopic camera. Will sat silently next to the others and watched. Rostam was watching and occasionally making a small adjustment, but the ACV’s computer was doing all the work.

The heat shield began to glow, then within seconds the ACV was enveloped in plasma. It fell like a rock across and through the Martian atmosphere, leaving a spark-filled plume behind it that glowed faintly for a few seconds. Will watched the numbers, as they told the story that the camera could only suggest: velocity, 6,300 meters per second and dropping; deceleration, 5 meters per second and rising as the vehicle bit deeper and deeper into the atmosphere; altitude, 44,050 meters and dropping fast.

The ACV flashed into the atmosphere, dropping to an altitude of twenty kilometers, then shot out the other side in less than six minutes. But it came out moving at 5,200 meters per second, which put it in the same orbit as Embarcadero. “Aerocapture complete,” said Rostam. “No problems.”

“Twelve point three hours to the periapsis burn?” asked Will.

Rostam glanced at his screen again. “Well, the delta-v was 1.3 meters per second too small; we’ll adjust that in a half hour or so once we have all the GPS data processed.”

“Okay, I’ll be across the hall.” Will went back to the conference room. He hit reply to Sebastian’s videomail. “Thanks for the message, Sebastian. It’ll be good to see you again after fifteen years, assuming you’re here in 2040, that is. You’ve done an incredible job with the Lunar Commission. I don’t think anyone would have imagined that the moon would have five permanent facilities, 200 personnel, and 300 tourists per year in just two decades. It’ll be good to have all that talent, experience, and energy here; I’m sure we can use it somehow when you’re not babysitting! I’m delighted you’re coming back and have no reservations.

“We’re fine up here. As you may know, Marshall turned twelve about three months ago. He has started to develop the funny, unpredictable voice of an adolescent, though thank God he’s a good kid; well, most of the time. Lizzie’s growing fast, too; she’s now nine and a half and is very good in math and ballet. Her ballet teacher says she dances very differently because of the gravity and it’s hard to teach her as a result. Ethel’s managing our carbonyl separation facility; in fact, we just aerobraked an ACV and part of its cargo is an upgrade to the plant. So we’re fine. I heard about Helmut and Clara and already have expressed my congratulations to them. Clara’s quite a presence here, always pushing for something to be done differently, and generally her ideas are good. Maybe you should encourage her to go into politics!

“Anyway, have a safe trip back to Houston. Let’s keep in touch. Bye.”

He sent the message, then sat and thought. He was upset about Sebastian’s plans, though he would never say so. Sebastian was a presence, persuasive and influential, very concerned about details, and he was nine years older; 61. It was difficult to think what job they could give Sebastian that wouldn’t bore him, and a job big enough for him would incite jealousy among the other senior staff.

He was pondering the problem when Wright replied. It would be a welcome distraction, so he played the video.

“Hi Will. Yes, I heard from Sebastian about a month ago; he was asking about the application procedure, so I was expecting him to apply. It’ll be good to have him part of the team, assuming his health isn’t an issue.

“Say, I received a very strange call about five weeks ago, and I haven’t been sure what to say about it. I was planning to ask a few people here, but since you called, I’ll forward it to you with this message. It’s from one Dr. Forest Rivers, a strange name, but that really is his name; I checked. He’s the head of the Green Earth Community in southern British Columbia, and he wants to send people to Mars. The message is self-explanatory and I’m just not sure how to say thank you, but no thank you. Let me know what you think. Bye.”

Wright’s face faded from the screen, leaving an icon at the bottom. Will pushed it and the face of a blond-haired man in his mid forties appeared.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wright. You don’t know me, though we have a mutual friend, Tina Walker, who gave me your address. My name is Dr. Forest Rivers. I have a doctorate in ecology from the University of British Columbia and am the head of a group of people—some call us a commune—titled the Green Earth Community. We’re located on two hundred hectares of beautiful forest and farm land on an island about sixty kilometers north of Vancouver. There are 150 of us and we practice a communal lifestyle that aims to be Earth-friendly; we use solar and wind power, grow all our own food in the open and in greenhouses, and support the community through our sales of preserves and crafts; we make elegant and solid furniture as well.

“We have long been strong supporters of the settlement of Mars. The community even owns land on Mars. Six years ago a wealthy patron willed us one hundred million Canadian dollars, money we invested in the companies mining Martian gold. As you know, the events of the last three years have caused the value of those companies to increase about twenty-fold. Consequently, our community has been discussing seriously the idea of relocating to Mars. We are inquiring how we would purchase four to six berths on Columbus 10 so that we can send an advance team to Mars to do preliminary work to move most of our community. I’m sure this conversation will be a lengthy one and this is just the preliminary phase, so I look forward to your reply. Good bye.”

Will watched the image of Dr. Rivers fade and puzzled about the request. Then he hit reply. “Dave, don’t say yes or no. This is strange, but if they have two billion bucks, it’s worth considering. I’m not sure we want a bunch of ideologically driven people here; but then again, North America was settled by religious refugees and Australia by convicts, so I suppose we could accommodate them. Find out if they’re serious.”

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It was a week before Dave Wright was able to get back to Will about the commune. When the reply arrived, Will scheduled a quick meeting of his senior staff to discuss the matter. Attending were Ruhullah Islami, Commander of Aurorae Outpost; Alexandra Lescov, director of construction and fabrication; Yevgeny Lescov, director of exports; Lisa Kok, director of environmental management; and Roger Anderson, Director of Exploration. Louisa Turner attended via teleconference link from Houston.

“Listen to this,” Will said, by way of introduction, and he pushed the play icon. Dave Wright’s face appeared on the wall screen.

“Here’s the update. I’ve spoken to Dr. Rivers three times in the last three days. I’m afraid I didn’t reply immediately after Will asked me to, but Dr. Rivers didn’t respond immediately either. I think he was assembling information. When he did reply, it came with a barrage of background that took two assistants two sols to review.

“The Green Earth Community is fifteen years old and has 154 members, though at the moment only about 100 of them are willing to make a commitment to come to Mars. On the other hand, the community has a lot of friends and part-time members and when the word gets out, many may wish to join the emigration. According to a professor of commune studies we spoke to, and some websites we visited, they have some strange beliefs. They believe that Mother Earth is a real being and that the Earth is alive. They seem to view nature as an expression of God. The Community allows no private property. Children live in dormitories and see their parents at meals and on weekends. Forest and two assistants organize the labor of the Community very efficiently. Theoretically, they are elected annually to perform this task. The Community has its own religious services every Sunday, which are not Christian or from any other religion, but of their own invention. One professor who has studied the Community told me that it could be seen as a religious sect as well as a commune. Apparently a few anti-cult websites include them, but not many.

“Forest is their second leader; the founder died eight years ago and left him in charge. It seems that Forest is an organizer and he has not added to their philosophy very much. We checked with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and they told us that there are no criminal charges against the Community or its leaders.

“In the now six weeks since Rivers first contacted me, he has contacted both United Spacelines and Lufthansa Space Express about private transport to Mars. Both companies use interplanetary habitats on their lunar flights; they’d need to upgrade the life support systems for a Mars flight, but that’s a matter of money. Interplanetary Transit Vehicles and their associated transit annexes have gotten reasonably cheap lately; one can buy one for two hundred million new dollars or lease one for a third of that. One can also buy a Mars shuttle or a Hermes class shuttle; they are publicly available. Mars domes made by Ad Astra in Canada can be purchased on the open market. Even rangers, conestogas, and mobilhabs can be purchased. There are four governments and five companies providing Swift Shuttle service to low earth orbit. In short, if Rivers has the will, he can actually buy everything his Community needs to come here and arrange their own transportation. They already own Martian land; last month they sold scattered holdings and bought 2,000 square kilometers in Aram Crater, right on the Meridiani Trail a thousand kilometers east of Aurorae. All the Green Earth Community lacks is our permission, which they would need to enter Mars space, land, and set up a borough government.

“So I see a real dilemma here, and don’t know what our next step should be. Do we want to encourage them, or try to stop them? Bye.”

Will looked at the others around the table. Then he noted that Louisa had already replied; she had seen Wright’s report previously. Will activated it.

“My two cents, for what they’re worth, is that this could be hard to handle in terms of public relations. There are bigots on Earth who are already concerned that their own group’s role on Mars is too small, or another group’s is too large. We haven’t had much trouble dealing with that, but if 100 or 200 members of a commune and what some may call a cult land on Mars, we could have some serious public relations and image problems. Of course, it is exciting that the private sector is finally getting involved with immigration, but something that is way beyond the mainstream will be controversial, and I don’t know that we could deal with that effectively. It may be impossible to keep on message; reacting to controversy could become the long-term message, especially if River Forest or Forest River or whatever his name is likes to make outrageous statements and get in the limelight. Certainly, if this commune does this, everyone on Earth will hear of them; it’ll be one of the greatest public relations acts a group like that could pull off. So we are almost guaranteed to have trouble.”

Everyone looked at each other worriedly. “I suppose the good news is easy to find,” said Yevgeny. “This would be great for exports. We would be selling stuff to people right here on Mars; no terrestrial transportation costs. It’d also increase land sales.”

“And we’ll be importing competition,” noted Alexandra. “Is that so good?”

“We need labor, especially people lacking doctorates,” noted Lisa. “It’s devilishly hard to fill certain positions. The people who arrive to do them want to get out in the field as soon as possible, and seek a promotion to something more glamorous within a year.”

“It sounds like they’re good in agriculture, Lisa,” noted Alexandra. “So how would you like it if they decided to go into farming and undercut your prices?”

That shut Lisa up. No one said anything for a minute. “If the Green Earth Community can do it, so can the Mormons, or a Saudi Prince could send 100 fundamentalist Wahhabi Muslims,” noted Ruhullah. “Think what that would do to our culture and community here.”

“It would make consensus and understanding much more difficult,” agreed Will. “I’m not sure which would be worse for Mars: creating scattered communities with radically different cultures all over this planet, or forcing them all to add their biomes to Aurorae so that we all have to mix together on a daily basis.” Will paused to see if anyone else had comments; no one did. “But consider this. Let’s say you were a man with 100 million dollars and you wanted to come to Mars with your family to live in two mobilhabs on a piece of land you bought that is located ten kilometers from here. Let’s say we said no and you proceeded to lease your own ITV and arranged to lease a lifter to push your ITV to Mars. What legal ground could we deny you the right to come to your own land?”

There was silence. “There’s safety,” noted Yevgeny.

“Is that a ground for denial, or a ground for insisting on maintaining standards of safety?” replied Will. “Couldn’t someone sue us in a court and say that we had to set reasonable safety standards, and if so, we were obligated to cooperate?”

“We’d have to ask Silvio about that,” replied Ruhullah. “But I see your point. It would be difficult to refuse them the right to come here if they are serious about it.”

“Even if we were legally in the right, we could get a black eye in public opinion,” said Yevgeny. “That might be hard to manage.”

“That’s what I’m beginning to think,” said Will. “This isn’t 2021, when Columbus 1 arrived here with six people; this is 2038, after Columbus 9 has arrived and Mars has 350 people. In the eighteen intervening years, the cost of reaching low earth orbit has dropped eight fold, the cost of equipment to fly people to Mars has dropped five fold, the reliability of the equipment has improved drastically, and the cost of flying a person to Mars has gone from half a billion old dollars to ten million old dollars. The situation is radically different. If the Green Earth Community isn’t the first private group to arrive, someone else will be, and pretty soon.”

“But they’ll be pretty strange!” said Alexandra.

“Who else would come?” said Ruhullah.

“Groups like the sects that opened North America to settlement,” noted Will. “Maybe history will repeat itself.”

“In that case, a Marsian will be defined in terms of the Fundamental Law of Mars, just like the American Constitution defines that country legally,” said Ruhullah. “That’s what we’ll have in common.”

“Do you realize you’re talking about dismantling a lot of what we have built, though?” exclaimed Alexandra. “We’ve created a culture here, inclusive, supportive, pluralistic, and family-oriented. A bunch of strangers will be hard to assimilate; we may assimilate to them as much as they to us.”

“And there’s the issue of competition,” added Lisa. “We work hard here, but usually we aren’t under intense time pressure. I’d hate to see our work become a grind and real income drop. It’s too low already, from the point of view of consumer goods.”

“It occurs to me that we will be the larger population,” noted Will. “The Green Earth community won’t be sending 100 people here on Columbus 10; we have 120 berths and will fill 100 of them ourselves. If we sold them four berths and they leased two ITVs accommodating four people each, they could only fly twelve people here. Mars will have almost 500 at that point. Columbus 11 could include 100 of them, but there would be 200 of us on that flight as well, so we’d outnumber them on Mars about 750 to 100.”

“There will be a dilution factor, especially if Mormons and Wahhabis dilute Green Earthers and vice versa,” added Ruhullah, nodding.

“I think our next step is to talk to the lawyers,” said Will. “We need to know what our rights are as well as our legal obligations to land owners. Mars changes every two years, and we don’t always like the changes. But if our goal is to grow this place, we can’t overlook an opportunity like this.”

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