The Man Who Sold Mars (22 page)

I laughed.  “What about you?”

“I’m just your garden variety
polygamist.  There’s nothing special about me.  But you my friend.  Stephen,
men will hate you.”

I laughed again.

And Mike continued, “I don’t know if
we’re doing the right thing, each of us marrying two women.  Every now and then
men pass laws to protect men.  You’re out voted when you have just one wife. 
Two has got to be something unnatural.  But I’m going to love it.”

“Me too.”

“Oh Stephen!  I don’t want to be married
by the President of Mars.  I want it special.”

“How?”  I didn’t know what else to say.

“I want the emperor of Mars.”

I laughed.  “So I have to promote myself
after my wedding.”

We both exploded with laughter.

* * * * *

I became a dad.  I was in the operating
room the entre time via cam watching Selena beautiful and so very tired, with
Tatyana, beautiful and energized, who was with her during the entire delivery,
as she gave birth to our son.

It was the happiest and saddest day of my
life.  I should have been there. 
I will be for the next onessssss.

I was so far out that the delay between
transmitting and receipt was about sixteen minutes.  So talking was becoming
more difficult, but not communicating for love speaks volumes in silence.

Wiping away tears, I apologized.  “I am
so sorry.  I’m not there.  I will be for the next.  And, I’m sorry to tell you
ladies this, but you will spend a significant portion of your life pregnant. 
No is not an option.  That’s a promise.”

They were so happy.

* * * * *

His two moms had not picked a name for
him.  Before he was born I used up the only veto I knew I would ever be allowed
in our marriage and vetoed their first choice, Stephen Young, Jr.  Given all
that was connected with the name for better and for worse, I wanted him to have
his own identity and his own name.  And given that, we opted for the
traditional approach of naming the child a week after he was born to see what
name best fit him.

“You don’t like his name?”  Selena’s
sorrow was heart wrenching and the saddened look on Tot’s face mirrored hers.

I smiled.  “I couldn’t hear it.  There’s
a lot of static.  Solar flares.  Please say it again.”  This time the com delay
worked in my favor and the sixteen minute delay was a blessing, giving me time
to think.  It wasn’t that I didn’t like the baby’s name—names.  I was just
surprised.  Selena going to her Latin heritage decided he should have five
names and Tatyana going to her Russian heritage insured they would be looooooong. 
Our son would earn his Ph. D. before he learned to spell all his names.

“Oh.  That’s his name.  I love them. 
Come closer to the cam.”

They did and I kissed all three.

Their smiles and the distance brought
tears to my eyes.

* * * * *

His christening was beautiful and a
mixture of Roman Catholic and Russian Orthodox religions.  Again, I was missing
another important day and it made me sad.

Thinking of all the family things we
would do made me feel better and I thought how much he was going to love
Christmas season, with Catholic Christmas being December 25, the Spanish Three
Kings Day’s January 6, and the Russian Orthodox Christmas is January 7.

* * * * *

Stern, George glanced at me from the
monitor.  “I have some good news and bad news about my mission.  The first is
that with just a few minor design modifications we’ve made the engines of the Mars
Transit Vehicle infinitely more powerful.  Which means we may arrive as early
as four to six months before your scheduled departure date.  We’re still making
strides with the propulsion system.”

“Is that because of you?”

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no
lies.  Not so much that I wanted to beat the stolen Prometheus.  Which I will,
but you’ve been alone long enough.”

“Thank you.  What’s the bad news?”

“Once your fiancés found that out.  My
mission became theirs.”

We laughed.

“Are they really coming?”

“Yes.  Don’t tell them I told you.”

“I won’t.  What about the baby?”

“That’s complicated.  Some of the doctors
seem to think that given the buoyant state the child exists in for nine months,
it may be more suitable for space travel than we are.  Takeoff is another
story, but given a child’s muscular and structural systems at that age, there
should be no problem.  Plus with the artificial gravity in the nursery aka Crew
quarters, the child won’t be deprived of gravity.”

“George, are they sure?”

“I don’t know.”

“I need to research this more.  The baby
may have to stay behind with a nanny and uncle Hemmingson’s tribe unless they
can convince me its safe.”  I laughed.

“What?!”

“Funny.  We may end up being the “Earth
Family Young””

“Colonization will happen ultimately. 
But I don’t think that’s their plan.  Very early in the development of YSR we
played with the idea of sending an earlier unstaffed MTV to Mars to orbit her
and be available as a safe haven for a mission having difficulties with their
own.  We are going to launch two MTV’s as a part of our mission.”

“Wow.”

“Yes.  You will ride one back.  The
Patricia and Catherine Luce will be given a major overhaul, restocked with
food, water, oxygen, etcetera and left as a memorial and rescue ship for any in
need of it.”

“Selena—“

“No, that was my idea and gift to her and
my friends.”

“It made her happy.”

“Stephen, unbelievably.  They’re training
hard.  I think their plan is to descend on you like aliens on Roswell, New
Mexico; whisk you back to the mother ship; and take you back to the home world
as soon as they arrive.”

We laughed hard.

My friends made my voyage much easier
than it could have been.

In time, the launch and the applause
faded to a vivid memory masked by the visits of my friends on my journey to The
Red Planet and in the fire damaged exit bay, of Mars Lander 1, sitting on the
surface of Mars, glistening in the predawn light, a brass plaque immaculately
cleansed bore the inscription:

The Evelyn &
Robert Young

Mars Lander 1

I stood beside it, wearing my extra
vehicular planetary exploration suit, proudly displaying the flag with Earth at
its center and the flags of all nations surrounding it, and in my hands an even
larger one, mounted on a pole to be planted on Mars, with the hope that a
united people would utilize this world in peace for the benefit of all.

On my chest, from a harness, the blue
lapis urn filigreed with gold peeked out.

With extreme pride, I looked around and
grinned.

I keyed a button on my suit and the door
to the space ship opened exposing the panoramic beauty of Mars at dawn.

In awe, I stood there and could only say,
“Gorgeous.”

I glanced down at the urn and touched it
with great affection.  “Mom, Dad, I told you I would take you with me.  And,
here we are.”

I keyed another button to hear a
rhythmic, filtered, beeping indicating my radio was transmitting and receiving.

Ecstatic, grinning broader I announced to
the world, back home.  “Earth, Mars Lander Evelyn & Robert Young, here.  I
am on the porch.  This Eagle has landed.  By the time you receive this message,
twenty or so minutes would have elapsed since “This man from the Planet Earth”
would have first set foot upon Mars and came in peace for ALL mankind.  Selena,
Tot, I love you.  Get ready.  Today is our day.””

I started to take a step, but stopped as
a devious grin spread across, my face and I thought of that day in my yard
following Neil Armstrong’s landing on the moon, when I was eight and my father
was grilling and my mother was sheltering me while I played with my fleet of
starships and added.  ”Oh, and by the way . . . Gooooood luck Mr. Beacon!!!!!”

I laughed to myself, grinned, and stepped
out to meet the Martian dawn, to plant the flag of my home world, and marry my
friend to his princesses, after first exchanging my vows with my loves and
becoming man and wives.

The End.

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The Man Who Sold Mars
Is a Bedtime Reader™ & Cinema
Novella™.  Its chapters and structure are divided into manageable sections
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The Man Who Sold Mars
is a work of fiction.  Any similarity to individuals living
or dead is purely coincidental. 
Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

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The Man Who Sold Mars
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Copyright 2003-2012 by K. Anderson Yancy

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