Glory on Mars (7 page)

Liz meant well, but annoyance bubbled up. She liked
Malcolm, sure, everyone did. But she'd succeed on her own.

Emma looked down at Malcolm's text message.

I took your advice and talked to my mission
counselor. You shouldn't have told me to do that, because she never
liked me. All I did was show some concern for Ingra's death and she
flunked me out. It's so unfair. I registered a protest but the
mission leader's just as bad. It's all over for me - the dream of
Mars. They took it away.

But I can still take care of you. There's a
controller job open on the satellite team. As a failed settler I
have priority for a MEX job and I'm fully qualified. It's miserable
consolation, but took it. I'll be here.

She hesitated to show Liz the message. It gave her a
little shiver as she reread the words. He was upset so some
bitterness was understandable. He did care for her, Emma felt
certain.

"He says he's got a job as a MEX controller for the
Mars satellite systems."

"That's a big team. There must be fifty guys managing
the satellites between communications, GPS, weather, and the power
station. They don't talk to the settlers much, though."

"It's okay - really."

Liz gave Emma a hug and pushed off, drifting back
across the module.

Actually, it's fine, Emma admitted to herself.

Chapter Nine:
Onboard

James had no trouble filling his days. He was
finishing a PhD thesis, which occupied him for endless hours,
headphones on, sometimes typing, sometimes scrawling on his screen
with a stylus. He bolted a chair to the deck facing into his open
bunk to make a study carrel and running a fan so the carbon dioxide
he exhaled wouldn't build up around his head.

"What's your thesis topic again?" Emma asked at
lunch-time conversation.

"It's sort of abstract." He sounded apologetic. "It's
a theory of quantum cohomology. Kinda hard to explain without the
math equations."

"Actually, with my implants deactivated, it's hard
for me to follow, too."

"You have cerebral implants? Wow. But why are they
deactivated? I thought those were biologically powered." Emma
stopped, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I know enhancements are private."

"It's okay." James smiled, tight lipped. "We're going
to be closer than family. Batteries aren't the problem. It's a lack
of technical support - calibrations and periodic rebalancing of my
brain chemistry. None of the necessary equipment will be sent to
Mars until Settler Mission Fifteen at the earliest."

"That's, like, twenty-five years from now."

"Settling on Mars is like going backwards in time."
James sighed with resignation.

"Not that it matters. University's not the world I'm
competing in now." But he frowned.

Emma supposed losing a mental edge so suddenly would
hurt. Liz must have seen that, too, because she gave his arm a
pat.

"You're giving up a lot of technology in return for
the privilege of spreading life to a dead world."

"I get to keep my high-tech, my robotics," Emma said.
"Liz, you get the low tech, unless we need a medic."

Claude snorted.

"With the equipment Liz has, it's like being treated
by witchdoctors. No offense..."

Liz laughed. She was hard to offend.

"I like gardening. Manual labor is low tech, sure,
but it's a timeless connection to our ancestors. The high-tech is
in the seeds - we have the best biological stock."

"Hey, I'm learning to be a pilot." James' good humor
quickly rebounded. "This ship has a simulator."

"That sounds more like you than quantum whatevers,
anyway," Liz said.

"Kamp has two jumpships and two pilots, but they want
to train backups. It's not too hard - the AI does most of the
work." He grinned wickedly. "The simulator lets me nosedive into
some spectacular crashes."

"So that's what your shouting's been about," Emma
said. "Somehow, I doubt crashing will get you behind real controls
anytime soon."

"What are you up to, Claude?" Emma asked
politely.

"I set up a net site for geology students at my old
university." He transferred his pad image to the main screen.

"Have you got them submitting papers to you?" James
asked.

"I offered my services as editor. I like to keep
track of their research."

"What's this?" James pointed to a sidebar of
links.

"Proposals for deploying the prospecting drill we're
carrying. I'm considering their suggestions. Kamp Kans will need to
mine metals if we're going to survive."

James sniggered.

"It looks to me like you're assigning homework. You
can't be anyone's favorite professor."

Claude rapped his pad in irritation and the main
screen went blank.

"Just kidding, professor." James affected an innocent
expression that made Emma laugh despite herself.

Claude's brows knit together above a scowl.

"This is my technical outlet. I'm a Martian
lithologist, but I'll spend my first year on survival projects -
pulling cables and laying pipes in the new settlement bays."

"I think it's wonderful to stay in touch with past
students," Liz said with a thin lipped frown at James.

"I understand Claude's frustration," Emma said. "I
have to help Liz get the mealworms and gardens established before
I'm scheduled to deploy our exploration bots. When I got a degree
in robotic engineering, I didn't expect to become a subsistence
farmer."

"Farming's a great job. Panspermia in reverse," Liz
said with a smile. "Maybe life came to Earth from the stars, so
it's fair for Earth to spread life out to the stars."

"Mars isn't very far out," James said.

"It's a start."

"You never worry about contaminating Mars with Earth
life," Emma said. There were still groups agitating to stop
colonization of Mars for that very reason. "What if we kill off
Martian life?"

"If there's any life on Mars, it's dying today. If we
find it, we'll nurture it. Settlement will be good for Mars."

"Liz will set a heater on some patch of ice and have
red trees towering over us in no time." James meant it as a joke,
but he'd reminded them of Ingra hallucinating oak trees as she
stumbled out the airlock to her death.

The main screen suddenly activated, repeating the
last entertainment they'd watched.

"Ship, did you turn that on?" Claude asked.

"Yes, Claude."

"Why?"

"A settler requested the screen be turned on."

The kitten was clinging to the bottom of the frame,
batting at the screen with one paw.

"That's kinda scary," James said. "The ship takes
orders from a cat."

"Ship, don't open any airlocks for the cat,
understood?"

"Don't worry," the AI said. "I know that he is a cat.
I have modeled his access as 'human toddler'. Besides, airlock
operation is manual."

***

The kitten was a great distraction and MEX asked for
more vids of his antics. Liz found her pad would project a red dot
of laser light for him to chase. He found all the spots in the
habitat where he could get a grip with his claws, and would streak
wildly around the module or launch across the room, legs stretched
out and toes spread wide.

They took turns feeding him from small tubes of food
rehydrated to mush. He'd grip the hand holding a tube with his
front claws, and lick at a little blob as it squeezed out. They had
to be careful giving him water, which could crawl around in zero-g
like something alive. Feeding was a slow business, but the cat
liked the attention and purred lustily throughout. Soon everyone's
hands were laced with fine pink streaks from his claws.

One morning, James' shouts woke Emma. She hurriedly
squirmed into her clothes and unzipped her bunk.

Flakes of something floated in the habitat, like a
beige snow storm. She pulled the neck of her shirt over her nose to
avoid breathing in...

"What is this stuff?"

"It's just wheat bran," Liz said through the hands
she held over her face. "We have compressed sacks of it for
mealworm bedding. It's stowed at the ceiling." She pulled herself
towards the storage brackets.

An orange blur rocketed past. The cat.

"Looks like the cat tore open a sack."

Emma heaved a sigh. The tingle of fear in her stomach
subsided. There was nothing to worry about. Well, there was one
thing.

"This is going to plug the air filters."

"I'll take the filter off..." James said.

"No, wait. Then the bran will get sucked into the
compressors. I've got an idea." She swam up the ladder to life
support.

"Hey, Settler Three. What's going on?" Filip called
over the module link. The transmission lag was becoming
annoying.

"It's okay. Just a bag of wheat bran broke open,
that's all," Liz said.

Emma returned with some large squares of plush filter
medium in light frames.

"Brush off as much bran as you can, and then put a
clean filter in front. Like this." Emma slid the new filter up as
she brushed bran off the one installed in the hull. Airflow held it
in place as bran collected on the surface.

"We just keep changing the filters until we collect
all the bran. We'll need bags, and - where's that vacuum
cleaner?"

Liz floated over, passing out dust masks from the
medical kit. They drifted in the swirling bran storm, waiting for
the filters to collect enough to vacuum off. The cat clung with his
back claws to a fabric square on the hull, wildly swiping at flakes
floating by.

James pointed to the Earth Scan sphere, now
brightened to yellow.

"The little beggar is upstaging me."

They spent all day cleaning. Even though it got
tedious after a while, Emma welcomed the break in routine.

***

Holidays also broke the routine and brightened the
Earth Scan sphere. Oktoberfest was international, so everyone
enjoyed that. They celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving for Liz and
Halloween for James.

There weren't any candles on board, of course, but
Claude dimmed the module lights and looped a vid on the main screen
of children singing and carrying Martinmas lanterns through a
forest.

"Why lanterns?" Emma asked.

“Sunset is earlier as winter
comes, so children carry lanterns to the
neighbors."

"I prefer Halloween," James
said. "Then I get candy."

Emma expected Claude to grumble
at James, but he looked lost in thought.

"Let's eat," she said brightly.

While cylinders of macronutrients couldn't provide
much holiday cheer, even extruded into funny shapes by the food
printer, there were a few treats in the galley cabinets - dried
fruit, chocolate, textured cheese, and some squeeze tubes of wine
and beer.

"Beer loses something in a squeeze tube," Claude said
sadly. "I can't watch bubbles rise or smell the brew properly."

"I can't smell anything anyway," Emma said. "My
head's all stuffed up and achy. I feel like I'm hanging upside
down."

"As your medic," Liz said, "all I can suggest is grin
and bear it. You'll feel better when you get some gravity under
your feet."

"I know what you need," James said. He maneuvered up
to the ceiling and unfastened a few bungee cords.

"Hey," Claude said. "Those hold cargo in place."

"Oh, relax, Professor. The cargo's not going
anywhere." He pushed off from the ceiling and landed next to
Emma.

"I bungee myself against my bunk wall at night. Try
it. You can snuggle into the sleeping bag. You'll feel better after
a good sleep." He grinned at Claude. "It improves your mood, too.
Want to try, Professor?"

Claude scowled.

"Well, I'm going to," Emma said, taking the bungees.
"The closer we get to the course correction, the less patience I
have with this trip."

Chapter Ten:
Mid-Point

Shortly after American Thanksgiving the mid-point
engine burn approached. The ship was still in an enormously
elliptical orbit around Earth and had to increase velocity to
transfer to a Mars orbit. If the engines didn't fire, their ship
would start a long fall back to Earth. Malcolm reminded her of that
in another message.

"He said, this is my chance to return to Earth," she
whispered to Liz. "He wants me to tell MEX to call off the burn -
let the ship fall back to Earth."

"Does MEX know he's saying these things?" Liz asked.
"I bet they wouldn't appreciate Malcolm trying to sabotage the
mission.

"You don't want to go back, do you?" Liz spoke with a
cautiously neutral tone like psychologists used, but her eyes
narrowed.

Emma's back straightened and her shoulders squared.
The journey was going well and she was happy - there was no reason
to abort the orbital transfer.

"No - I'm going to Mars. I've told him so."

"Good," Liz said, relaxing into a smile. "I know how
to take your mind off Malcolm. I want to neuter the kitten now, so
he'll heal before the engine burn. You can help me set up the
surgical kit after lunch."

She told Claude and James over fake-pasta shaped like
stars.

"Guys, it's time for my big medical procedure. I need
to pull one of the downdraft panels from life support to use here
on the table."

"Okay," James said. "But I don't see why you have to
neuter the poor little fellow. He'll be the only cat in the world.
It's not like he'll make babies by himself."

"He'll be a better citizen. It'll keep him cuddly and
prevent any objectionable male behaviors."

"Don't look at me when you say that." James kicked
out of his chair and up to the ceiling in mock distress.

"Don't worry, James, you're safe. A colony wouldn't
make much sense without children, would it?"