Glory on Mars (4 page)

"But me and Emma..." Here he turned to her.

"We're in it for the glory. The pure, glorious idiocy
of the challenge."

Emma smiled into the room's cameras, ignoring the
tension in her body.

"Yeah - my walkabout bots are so unconventional - I
couldn't find anyone else willing to pilot them on Mars."

That got a laugh, as always. But it was a relief when
the conference ended.

They walked straight down the carpeted hall to a
large ballroom. Emma paused at the door to look around. There were
spaceport officials and Colony Mars executives glad-handing
significant donors. The ground-support team members were milling
around quietly, easy to pick out in shirts striped with two shades
of blue instead of the settlers' blue and red.

A Colony Mars official gestured the crew to join him,
grabbed a microphone, and the crowd quieted. After a short eulogy
to Ingra, he called for a minute of silence.

When the minute passed, he raised his fist
defiantly.

"Ingra's sacrifice is not in vain. On to Mars."

"On to Mars!" The crowd shouted back to him and the
party began.

Someone pushed a flute of champagne into Emma's hand.
She abandoned her usual restraint, had a second glass of champagne,
and switched to tangy margaritas when waiters brought out platters
of cheese-stuffed jalapenos.

"Settlers, we need you at the front of the room." The
climax of the evening was coming. An officious looking man in a
suit waved his hand solemnly and the crowd parted, letting Emma
walk to the front of the room with her crewmates.

"These are the final Colony Mars contracts," the man
said. For an oddly archaic effect he held long paper pages over his
head. Liz pushed forward to sign first and the rest of the crew
queued behind her. Emma scribbled her name awkwardly with a pen.
She understood there was no chance of returning from Mars,
understood her survival was not guaranteed, and relinquished her
right to sue Colony Mars for any reason.

"Okay everyone. Gather round." The support team lead
hopped up on a chair and swayed precariously. "It's time for the
electronics swap."

Unexpectedly, Emma felt a wave of panic battle the
tequila in her bloodstream. She'd had phones and tablets, games and
links for as long as she could remember. But batteries were a
luxury on Mars, used only for necessary applications. All her
earthly devices would be left behind.

One by one, with laughing and back-slapping, the crew
of Settler Three relinquished their devices. Contact lenses were
popped out and pads were dropped into a box.

"We don't leave our intrepid settlers out of touch,"
the support lead shouted over the crowd. He passed Emma a
hand-sized pad.

With a cord. An electric power cord. And then he
handed her an extension cord.

Emma stared at them. Of course, she used corded pads
in training, but the permanence of surrendering her own devices
left her hollow inside. She wandered towards the edge of the crowd,
to the ballroom wall, and plugged into an outlet.

Her pad powered up immediately and, already set to
Emma's account, popped open a message.

"Hey! I've got a message from Kamp," she called out.
People nearby turned towards her and the room quieted when they saw
her puzzled face.

"They want a cat."

"What?" The support lead tumbled off his chair in
confusion.

"They want us to bring them a cat." Emma held up the
pad, hitting the end of the power cord.

"You mean a pet-bot?" someone asked.

"No. A real, live cat. They say they've arranged for
a kitten to be delivered to our ship from Lunar Base."

Fuzzy with margaritas, Emma was perplexed. Maybe the
settlers on Mars were going crazy. But a cat would be more life on
Mats and, somewhere in the crowd, she was sure Liz was smiling.

***

Emma slipped out of the party and wandered down the
hall to a hotel coffee shop. Real coffee with real cream was
something she'd miss and she didn't trust the stuff they'd brew at
the launch facility. This could be her last chance.

She chose a small table in the far corner of the
room. As she nursed her cup, Claude Krueger came in. She wasn't
sure she wanted any company and certainly not another settler. But
he spotted her, carried his coffee with exaggerated care, and sat
at her table.

"Hi, Claude." Emma forced a smile. "Enjoying your
last night?"

"They're all so damn happy in there." He gestured
vaguely down the hall.

"They're not going to Mars. You and me. James and
Liz. We're going. I don't even know most of those people."

"The party's not really for us - it's a Colony Mars
event. Didn't you take your vacation last month with family?"

He didn't seem to hear her.

"Wanna see a picture of my wife?" He fumbled in his
pocket and laid out his pad, then swore. "I forgot. This thing
needs to be plugged in."

Emma leaned forward, realizing she'd been wrong - she
did want to talk.

"Do you ever have second thoughts? Regrets?"

"Second thoughts, no. Regrets..." He slurped at his
coffee and wiped a hand across his mouth. "I've had regrets since I
filled out my application. I had a good life." He fingered the
pad.

"So why did you apply?"

"For a chance to go to Mars!" He sat back in the
chair and spread his hands helplessly.

"How could anyone ignore the opportunity? I've taught
classes on Martian lithology, designed experiments to determine its
mineralogy. If I had the chance and passed it up, how could I live
with myself?"

"I helped develop the rovers and walkabouts we're
taking," Emma said. "That's what gives our mission its name - the
Explorers. That's what I'm going for."

Claude waved his hand dismissively.

"Tools. Just fancy versions of my rock hammer. It's
the rocks. The damn, blasted rocks, that are important."

"Claude, you're drunk. You should go to bed."

Without another word, he snapped the lid on his cup,
pocketed the pad, and tottered out of the shop.

He's right, Emma thought. Who could pass up the
chance to go to Mars? She felt a tingle in her gut, maybe thrill or
maybe fear.

I've got grit, she thought as she watched the barista
serving another late-night customer. It's my best feature. When I
say I'm gonna do something, I do it. I got top grades in school
because I've got grit and that made Mom and Dad proud of me. I got
my PhD because I've got grit, and my advisor was impressed. Now I'm
going to Mars for the rest of my life because I've got grit. It's
the opportunity of a lifetime.

She stared at the coffee counter. Next to the pad
where people tapped their links to pay was a jar with a few
coins.

Whenever she dithered over a decision, her mother
told her to flip a coin. You'll be relieved at the result or
disappointed, she'd say, and either way that tells you how you
really feel.

"I'm borrowing a coin," she said to the barista.
"Just for a minute."

She tipped the jar, fished out the largest coin, set
its edge against the counter, and gave it a spin. As the spin
turned to a wobble, she whispered.

"Heads for Mars, tails for Earth."

The coin fell and she knew. The tightness inside her
vanished. Emma was going to Mars.

Chapter Five: Mass
Driver

The next morning, slightly nauseous and heads
aching, Emma boarded a spaceport sand coach with James and Claude,
leaving Liz behind for a day of intensive veterinarian training.
The coach set out eastward across a broad desert valley. After a
while, Emma looked up, then over her shoulder. The spaceport was
hidden by a colorless slope behind them.

"Have you followed the cat debate?" James asked.
"They've been at it all night."

He used the coach's link to play some messages out
loud. It seemed the colonists had been talking to Lunar Base for
weeks, ever since the Loonies announced a litter of kittens was on
the way - kittens to be born on the Moon and raised at the Collins
Space Dock. Emma roused herself enough to wonder why they'd kept it
a secret from MEX.

Colony Mars engineers, quite reasonably, balked at
adding an element to their mission at the last minute, especially a
live animal. But Lunar Base had a complete proposal ready. They'd
provide everything, including a plan for feeding a cat long-term on
Mars. After Ingra's extraordinary suicide, the psychologists were
inclined to approve whatever the colonists requested. The added
mass of the cat's supplies was well within the transport ship's
margin of error for fuel, so the engineers didn't object. So a cat
was formally added to their mission.

The coach bounced and Emma squinted out a wide
window.

"Where are we?" she asked the driver.

The coach ran on autodrive, so the driver wasn't
actually driving. Spaceport never left clients without a real live
human escort and he rode with his seat swiveled to face the
crew.

"
Jornada del Muerto,
" he called out
cheerfully. "Named by the Spanish who first explored this desert.
The Journey of Death."

"Hopefully not prophetic." Claude roused himself to
grumble.

"It's a long ride," Emma said with a sigh.

"We're this far from the terminal so the space ramp
could be built up onto the mountains, to take advantage of the
angle for launch," the driver said. "The spaceplane launches over a
restricted area - the White Sands military base - so if you crash
on take-off, you won't kill anyone."

"I'd feel terrible if I crashed on someone," James
said. He was recovering and sounded chipper.

"We'll go under the launch track in a little bit,"
the driver said. "Do you know how many loops you'll make before
they shoot you up the ramp? Never tried it myself. I'm told the
ship builds up a lot of g-force."

Emma shuttered at the thought, settled back into her
seat, and closed her eyes. James chattered with the driver but she
was silently grateful the road was smooth the rest of the way.

She opened her eyes again when the coach stopped.
Sloping concrete walls supported a heavy metal track ahead of them,
above a narrow shadowed tunnel.

"See the electromagnets mounted on the sides?" The
driver said, pointing. "They accelerate the spaceplane."

On the other side of the tunnel, the track stretched
into the distance around them. The center of the huge circle was
filled with heliostatic tracking mirrors focused on a central
receiver tower - power for the mass driver magnets. On the loop's
opposite side, towards the mountains and the space ramp, was the
launch building - an entirely utilitarian, squat, flat-roofed
structure of unpainted concrete. They'd be isolated in the east
wing along with the medical staff. A separate building on the west
side, equally ugly, housed the ground team on duty. They'd had
their own, non-alcoholic party last night and were back at work.
The relief team would arrive in a few days.

Filip from MEX greeted them.

"I wondered why I didn't see you at the party," James
said as he hopped down.

"I'm not much for parties - especially when there's a
control room to see instead."

"Your control room's in Holland," Claude said with a
frown.

"My team has preparations well in hand, and Lunar
Base handles the transport ship while it's in Collins Dock. MEX
doesn't take over until you're ready to break orbit, so I'll be
back at MEX in plenty of time.

"This is my last chance to shake hands with each of
you." He was suddenly solemn.

Emma straightened up, sensing a ceremony not listed
in Colony Mars' media kit.

"It's been an honor working with you. Good luck -
from me, the team, and posterity." He clasped each of their hands
tightly before holding open the door and waving them towards the
isolation wing.

***

The crew started final launch preparations
immediately. Emma's first appointment was for her pre-flight
physical. The doctor was a tiny, birdlike woman.

"Take off your shirt, please," she said after
introductions, and looked slightly over Emma's shoulder, reading
from her contact lens link.

"Your contraceptive chip is in your upper left
arm."

It didn't sound like a question, but Emma answered,
fingering the spot.

"You have your personal device to deactivate the chip
when you choose." Again, not a question, but the device was in her
personal duffle bag. "Colony Mars has the code on file for you,
should you lose your device."

The doctor now looked at her and - somewhat abruptly
- smiled.

"If you would stand here, and place your arm in the
gauntlet tray..." The doctor closed the lid and Emma felt pressure
build along her forearm.

"Stand still, please. This will take a moment. A
little more..." The doctor looked over Emma's shoulder again.

"Party last night, I see. But you're cleared for
launch." The gauntlet popped open and Emma rubbed her arm. It was
covered with hundreds of barely-visible red dots.

"If that redness isn't gone by morning, call me. I'm
right here in quarantine with you. This is the last readout you'll
receive until the Settler Four mission delivers full hospital
diagnostics to the colony."

Emma nodded.

"That's only two years away and there's no reason for
a healthy young adult to have a full diagnostic more often than
every five years." She took a plastic case out of the drawer next
to her.

"This is your lacertossum medichip, which will tweak
your own hormone production to improve bone density and muscle
tone. Emma Winters, correct?" She turned the case towards Emma to
display her name across the top.

"Your upper right arm this time, I think. I'll just
deaden the area..." She used a thin needle to inject analgesic at a
half-dozen points- enough drug to visibly swell a spot on Emma's
arm.